For a brief, unhelpful second, I thought she was pretty.
I cleared my throat. “Good afternoon.”
She straightened, professional instinct kicking in. “Welcome to the SnowDrop Inn. Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” I said. “I’m Ephram North. I live a few blocks away. My furnace is out and a pipe burst this morning. I was hoping to arrange a temporary stay.”
Her eyes widened slightly. “Of course. Yes. We can help with that. I’m Lydia Bennet.”
So this was Lydia Bennet.
“Let’s get you checked in. I have a room on the second floor with a nice view of the courtyard,” she offered.
“That’s good,” I replied, not really caring about the view.
“Do you have a credit card and identification?” she questioned.
I pulled out my wallet, giving her the necessary documents.
Behind her, a man hovered who radiated entitlement. Well-dressed, smug posture, he hovered behind her, watching her every movement.
I disliked him on sight.
“We are still mid-renovation,” Lydia mentioned typing information into the computer. “But we have heat and working bathrooms. Just the basics.”
“That is all I need,” I said. “It would be short term.”
She nodded, giving me a receipt and my cards back. “Here’s your room key. The room number is on it. Do you need any help with your bags?”
“Now, now, Lydia. He looks fully able to take his own bags upstairs. You can’t leave the desk unattended. It might reflect poorly on the inn should someone come to the lobby requiring something,” the man behind her said.
I wondered if this was her father, William Bennet, owner of the inn.
“It’s part of the service,” Lydia said in a clipped voice.
“I can grab my own bags, but thank you for asking,” I made a point of saying before giving the man a cool look. “I don’t believe we have been introduced.”
“Collin Bennet,” he replied without elaboration.
Not the owner then. I wondered exactly what Collin’s role was here. I returned my attention back to Lydia. “There is something else I wanted to speak to you about, if you have a moment. In private please.”
Her expression shifted, guarded but calm. “Of course.”
We stepped into a quieter corner of the hallway, leaving a disapproving Collin at the desk.
“I’m a sergeant with the Maple Ridge police department,” I identified myself, showing her my badge. “I have reviewed some files, one of them being the unresolved case of Gavin Wickham defrauding the SnowDrop Inn and your family.”
She stiffened.
“Yes,” she said. “I remember.”
“I wanted to clarify a few things,” I continued. “Just to understand how events unfolded.”
She nodded slowly. “All right.”
“Where did you meet?” I asked.
“At a party. He was the coordinator for all the staff. The party was at the place I worked at before I came home. We were celebrating getting a big client. Gavin was charming, he loved my social media profile, he asked for my number. We went out a few times. When planning the Christmas dance here, it was natural to call him and ask for his help and expertise,” Lydia answered.
