‘What do you mean?’ Shelley smiled as she glanced down at one of the very glossy hotel brochures. ‘Has a new law come into being since I’ve been living in Italy? Don’t tell me! You’ve started offering free board and lodgings?’
‘Well, only sometimes!’ The blonde giggled, and then Shelley could have sworn that she almost winked.
Shelley frowned. There was something vaguely troubling about the other woman’s attitude towards her, something reminiscent of the way people used to treat her when she went to hotels with Marco. A kind of envy. She had understood why in those circumstances—he was a rich, eligible man and she was his partner. But not these. ‘I’m not sure that I understand,’ she said slowly.
The blonde had started to look worried now. ‘I shouldn’t have said anything. Honestly, it doesn’t matter!’
‘Oh, but I think it does,’ Shelley asserted. ‘Why on earth would I not have to pay for my own room?’
The blonde coloured. ‘Oh, heck! Look, I’m sorry. I certainly didn’t mean to cause offence. It’s just that—well, the boss made such a fuss before you arrived yesterday—he went around inspecting the place as if we were entering the Hotel of the Year competition!’
Shelley registered what the girl was saying, but one word alone stood out and blasted its way into her subconscious.
Boss.
Boss?
She stared very hard at the receptionist. ‘Who exactly is your boss?’ she asked, even though something told her she already knew the answer.
The blonde bit her lip. ‘Mr Glover. Drew Glover,’ she enlarged unnecessarily.
‘And he’s the manager of this hotel?’
‘The manager?’ The blonde blinked her lashes rapidly and nearly raised a smile at this. But not quite. ‘Oh, no-o-o, he’s not the manager! He owns the hotel. Well, a part share. The biggest share, actually,’ she confided, and this time she did wink.
‘He owns it?’ Shelley recited dully. ‘This hotel?’
‘Oh, yes!’
‘Anything else besides?’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, he hasn’t bought up the local golf-course while I’ve been away? Or the boatyard at Milmouth Waters?’
‘Oh, no!’ laughed the blonde. ‘But he’s got quite a few properties dotted around Milmouth. He has a reputation for being something of a wheeler-dealer in these parts.’
‘Oh, does he?’ questioned Shelley faintly.
The blonde had started to look really worried. ‘Only we weren’t supposed to say anything—not to you. That was the whole point. He told Dee—she does the opposite shift to me—’
‘The redhead?’
‘That’s right!’ The blonde nodded her head worriedly. ‘He told her that no one was to let on to you that he was anything other than an ordinary punter. That there was to be no fuss. I just thought that this morning…’
‘This morning what?’
‘I can’t!’ The blonde shook her head. ‘Mr Glover’ll kill me,’ she breathed.
‘Only if I tell him. I might decide not to.’
The blonde looked at her hopefully. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘In exchange for a little information.’
‘What kind of information?’
Shelley glanced down at the woman’s name-badge, then fixed her with a steady stare. ‘What were you expecting to happen this morning, Moira?’
The blonde blushed. ‘Well, I thought he might have told you about himself some time during the night.’
Some time during the night. The words reverberated round her head, heavy with implication. Shelley stared at the girl in horror. ‘Are you implying that Mr Glover and I spent the night together?’
The blonde looked as though she wished a trap-door would open up for her to disappear through. ‘I didn’t mean to cause any offence—honestly, I didn’t. It’s just that you didn’t come down for breakfast, and we haven’t seen him, and someone said you looked very close at dinner last night, and so I put two and two together—’
‘And came up with five hundred and forty-five?’ suggested Shelley drily.
‘Oh, heck!’ Moira moaned. ‘Why didn’t I just keep my big mouth shut?’
‘I’m very glad you didn’t.’ Shelley heaved out a long breath and the question which followed it was not one which should have been number one on her agenda. ‘He has women to stay here a lot like this, does he?’
‘Oh, no! He has a reputation for being picky,’ the girl revealed. ‘Women throw themselves at him all the time— I suppose that’s not very surprising when you think about it. But he’s ever so choosy.’