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Boyd looked at all three. ‘What’s going on?’

Mooney inhaled before speaking. ‘You know Ann Wilson is dead. She was murdered last night in a similar way to the other victims. There are new detectives working with me now and they’re privately saying it’s a serial killer and that?—’

‘Bryan is not a serial killer,’ Grace said, indignation lacing each word, ‘so you can put that in your pipe and smoke it.’

Mooney smiled at her use of the old adage. ‘I’m not saying any such?—’

‘And he was with me all last night.’

Boyd shook his head at Grace to keep quiet. He said to Mooney, ‘What do you want? This is your second visit today.’

‘I’m looking for Inspector Parker. She’s not at the hotel. I thought she might have come back here.’

‘Likely story,’ Bryan said.

‘You could’ve just phoned her,’ Boyd said.

‘Believe me, I’ve tried. No answer. It’s not switched off, just rings out.’

‘She may have it on silent,’ Boyd said, but his hand holding the mug shook. Lottie rarely had her phone on silent, especially when she was away from her family.

‘It’s possible.’ Mooney took a sip of his coffee. ‘I thought I’d find her here, seeing as you’re here. Saw your car arriving as I left earlier. Will you try ringing her? She might answer you quicker than she would me.’

Boyd doubted that, but he took out his phone and, though he wasn’t yet ready to talk to Lottie about their situation, tapped her number. It rang out. ‘No answer.’

‘When did any of you last see her?’ Mooney asked.

‘Yesterday,’ Grace said, ‘when I asked her to leave.’

‘I’m sure you’ve seen her since then,’ Boyd said pointedly to Mooney. ‘She seems to be very much taken with your investigation.’

‘I admit I wanted her input and experience at the beginning, but I warned her not to become involved.’

‘Did she listen to you?’ Boyd asked. ‘She sure as hell doesn’t listen to me any more.’ He blushed at his own words. He’d meant to think them, not speak them. Too late to retract.

Grace’s head bobbed furiously. ‘That’s just it. She keeps poking her nose in where it’s not wanted.’

‘It’s more my fault than anyone’s,’ Bryan said softly. ‘I asked her to find out something for me from my past. And it had nothing to do with Imelda Conroy.’

‘So what was it?’ Mooney asked.

‘That’s none of your business,’ Grace said, surprising the three men with her vehemence. ‘You need to find the killer before he comes here for Bryan.’

‘Why do you think he’d come here?’ Mooney put down his mug.

‘You keep turning up at our door. You could be leading him right to us. Did you stop to think of that?’

‘Papa?’ Sergio stood at the door. ‘I need the Wi-Fi code, please.’

‘Sure.’ Boyd followed his son and pulled the door shut behind him.

After he’d set the code on Sergio’s tablet, he ventured up to the room he’d shared with Lottie and felt a swell of sadness wash over him. Their relationship was floundering and he wasn’t sure he could rescue it. But hearing that Mooney was unable to get hold of her moved something in him. He’d never be over her. He had to talk to her, and to do that he had to find her.

He tapped Kirby’s number.

‘Did you get back okay?’ Kirby asked. ‘All set for the big day tomorrow?’

It took Boyd a moment to realise his colleague and friend was talking about Grace’s wedding.