“Could I ask you a couple of questions?”’ Heather leaned on the counter top, folding her arms.

“Of course,” the receptionist dialed down the smile from satisfied customer to query incoming.

“Do you know anything about the history of this place? Specifically about the commune that was on the site during the ’70s and ’80s?’

The woman nodded carefully and retrieved another pamphlet from a drawer on the desk. This one had a black and white photo of the House on the front. “There you go. Fiddler’s Mill was built in the late 1700s, and has had an interesting history since then. The main points are highlighted in the pamphlet there.”

“Interesting history.” Heather nodded slowly, looking at the leaflet. “What about the rumors that the Red Wolf used to live around here? Do you know anything about that? About Michael Reave?”

The smile vanished. “What?”

“I have it on good authority he was a part of the commune here from the ’70s onwards …”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Are you sure? Because —”

“No seriously, I don’t.” The woman leaned forward. “They tell us to play down the commune stuff, because of all the drug taking and that,” she glanced around briefly, as if her manager might be looming, “but I’ve never heard anything about the Red Wolf. Are you serious?”

“Is there much left on the grounds from that time? Could you tell me that?”

The woman grimaced and leaned back. Now, as she glanced around the reception, it was clear she was seeking someone else to deal with them. Heather lowered her voice. She could feel Nikki’s discomfort next to her.

“I just want to know about the stuff that dates from then. How many people do you have staying here at the moment? Not many, I suppose, but there are cars in the car park—do you think they’d want to know about the history of this house? That the Red Wolf spent time in these fields in between dismembering bodies? Now, there are people that would be over the moon to hear that, but I doubt it’s the same people who would pay eight hundred quid a night for peace and quiet and hot stone treatments. Especially not when a particular fan of the Red Wolf is apparently causing trouble again.”

The receptionist took a slow breath, then picked up another pamphlet off the desk. This one was the same as the one Nikki already had. She picked up a ballpoint pen and began to make hurried additions to the map.

“Look, there’s not much left on the grounds from that time, save for the House itself, and a few private properties in the northwest of the estate. A few old houses that are falling to pieces, a strip of land with a caravan on it—they are mostly still occupied.” She made a couple more marks and then handed the map over, her mouth pursed. “I only know about it because I was here when they were building the new roads—they had to get agreements from the residents still living on the larger properties.”