“Great,” I said. “You didn’t happen to see anyone strange wandering near the guest wing earlier, did you?”
He frowned. “Define strange.”
“Not wearing a uniform, maybe? Acting like they didn’t belong?”
He shrugged. “Half the guests act like they don’t belong until the champagne starts.”
I smiled weakly. “Right. Of course. Sorry, just being thorough.” He squinted at me. “Everything okay?” “Completely,” I lied. “Totally fine.”
I turned to leave just as one of the sous chefs yelled, “Brian, the blender’s possessed again!” Sparks flew, and I decided that was my cue to exit.
Back in the corridor, I inhaled slowly. The air was cooler here, almost tranquil, except for the faint banter still drifting from the suites. The world carried on, hair being curled, champagne being poured, photos uploaded to social media, while I was quietly losing my mind.
I stopped near the tall window at the end of the hall, trying to breathe normally. Outside, the vines stretched out like the world’s calmest wallpaper.
Somewhere near the terrace, I heard Izzy’s unmistakable bellow:
“No,notthat decanter, the clean one, for heaven’s sake! If you chip another glass, I’ll start serving the guests in paper cups!”
I couldn’t help smiling, just a little.
Izzy’s voice was pure comfort food when the world around me was, for now, blissfully unaware that I was one minor scandal away from entering witness protection under the nameLinda from Accounts.
I bit my lip, an unfortunate habit whenever I was out of my comfort zone.
Okay. The housekeepers hadn’t seen anything. The kitchen was a bust.
Fine. This was only step one. Rule things out. Stay methodical.
That’s what detectives did, right?
It felt like something they did.
The catering team were setting up trays in the back courtyard, a small army of calm efficiency. The sound of clinking glass and the low murmur of voices filled the space. Linen napkins were stacked in symmetry, plates gleamed, and a mild breeze carried the scent of rosemary and something citrusy.
If anyone had seen anything, maybe it would be them.
I plastered on my brightest, most non-desperate smile and approached a young man polishing cutlery.
“Morning,” I said sweetly. “Everything running smoothly?”
He nodded. “Like clockwork.”
“Wonderful,” I said. “And you’ve been here since…?”
He blinked. “Six, I think. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. Just making sure everything is in place.”
His brow creased. “You mean like food?”
“Yes! Food, plates… things.” I coughed. “Never mind. Forget I said that.”
From across the courtyard, Cleo gave me awhat are you doinglook and mouthed,subtle!I ignored her and turned to the next person, a middle-aged woman arranging flowers.
“Hi there,” I said. “You didn’t happen to see anyone wandering near the guest wing this morning, did you? Maybe someone unfamiliar?”
She thought for a second. “Just the usual. Delivery vans came through before breakfast. Oh, and Izzy was out near the vines, yelling at someone about a hose.”
