Val crossed the foyer to stand next to Slade. “I’m Valerie Renard,” she said, “and I’m going through a difficult time. I have no comment. Thank you.” With that she closed the door, locked it, and wondered how much of the aborted interview the cameraman, standing on the front porch, had caught. Not that it mattered. The bell rang again, but she ignored it. All of the guests had been issued room keys that unlocked the back door. For once she was grateful that there weren’t that many paying customers; at least she’d have a little more privacy.

Back to that.

She turned and faced Freya. “I take it Slade renting the Garden View Room was the reason you wanted to talk to me last night.”

Freya was nodding, standing near the window. “Yeah.” She sighed as she stared through the glass. “Now they’re taking shots of the house. Great. I guess we’ll chalk it up as free publicity.” She turned to Val. “Anything I can do?”

“No,” Val said, and with a glance at Slade said, “But the next time one of my ex-husbands calls to rent a room, hang up.”

“I’m not your ex yet,” Slade said.

“Soon, Cowboy.”

“We’ll see about that.” He grabbed his beat-up duffel in one big hand. “Why don’t you show me which room is mine?”

“Gladly,” she mocked, and found Freya already holding out the key. “Fabulous.” She snagged the key, then headed up the stairs with Slade one step behind in his dusty boots. A door on the first floor opened, and she heard a sharp bark, then the sound of scrambling paws on the marble floor of the foyer. A second later, Bo bounded up the stairs. “This is low, Slade, even for you,” she said as she followed the fading carpet runner to the second floor, then turned upward again. “Calling Freya behind my back.”

“Would you have seen me?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Then I guess I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“There are always choices,” she said on the top floor.

They reached the third-floor landing where Bo was waiting, bottom wiggling, tongue lolling from one side of his mouth. Black lips pulled back, he appeared to smile as she reached down and petted his head. “I have missed you, you miserable mutt,” she said with a chuckle, and the dog whined as if he understood. “Someone better be treating you right.”

“Spoiled rotten.”