She was relieved to see it was a very informal affair in the reception room. There were probably another seventy-five to one hundred travel-agency PR people and reporters, all standing around in small groups chatting amiably and all with a drink in their hand. Steph was approached by a waiter with a tray of champagne and she gladly took a glass before making her way over to the buffet table and filling up her plate with as much food as was polite. She was starving and knew just one glass of alcohol on an empty stomach would be enough to make her want to curl up and sleep this afternoon. She had to make sure she paced herself and was able to write a full report. She also wanted to keep her wits about her so she didn’t miss an opportunity to find out more about Elizabeth.

The clinking of a spoon against a glass brought the chatter of the room to an end and all the guests turned to the front, where three men and a woman were standing – the Sinclairs.

‘Hello and welcome to Conmere Resort Centre,’ began one of the men. ‘It’s great to see so many of you here. My name’s Dominic Sinclair and this is my mother, Pru, and my brothers, Harry and Owen.’

Dominic was a natural speaker and came across as professional and charming. Steph tried to concentrate on what he was saying, but her mind kept drifting back to Sonia Lomas and her quest to find justice for her daughter. Steph looked at the Sinclairs – could one of them be a murderer, as Sonia had implied? Which one looked as if they could be capable of killing Elizabeth?

A round of applause from the other guests brought Steph back from her thoughts as Dominic invited everyone to enjoy the buffet and feel free to ask any questions as they mingled. The Sinclairs smiled at the guests, although Harry Sinclair’s contribution was rather more lacklustre than the rest of his family’s.

Steph finished her drink and exchanged the champagne flute for a bottle of sparkling water, making a show of examining the label as she surreptitiously kept an eye on her hosts. Pru was already engaged in conversation with one of the guests, standing slightly to one side, but her eyes every now and then scanned the room.

Dominic was holding court with a group of reporters; with his hands in his pockets, he looked at ease in their company, smiling and being particularly engaging, looking at the scale model of the resort in the centre of the room, identifying various points of interest. He was clearly in his element.

Aware that she should probably be speaking to at least one of the Sinclairs, Steph let her gaze seek out the remaining brothers. Owen was talking earnestly with two older men.