‘Did you prepare the food, Christine?’ Alice asks, struggling to pull her eyes away from the couple.

‘Cameron did,’ Christine says through her tears. ‘But why would he kill them? Why would anyone kill them?’ She hiccups, wipes her tear-streaked cheeks. ‘Who the hell would make them look so bizarre? They barely said a word to anyone since they arrived, kept themselves to themselves. Who would do this?’

‘Let’s get out of here.’ Leon takes Alice’s hand, and pulls her to her feet. She’s thankful that he’s made her move, is getting her out of this room. ‘We can’t think straight in here,’ he goes on, assertive. ‘Let’s go back down to the bar.’

On the landing, Lori is struggling to breathe. ‘Who would do that?’ She wheezes, presses her hand against her chest. ‘I need my inhaler,’ she says, rooting around in her bag. ‘I can’t find my inhaler.’

‘Let me look,’ Christine says, taking the bag from Lori, and quickly finding the inhaler.

‘Well, I need a drink.’ Leon’s eyes are wide and fiery. He dashes towards the stairs, pulling Alice along with him. Christine and Lori follow, as though scared to be alone, the sound of their anxious sobs echoing throughout the building.

By the time they reach the bar, Lori’s gone into a kind of spasm, bending over making an awful strangled sound.

‘Deep breaths, Lori, love,’ Christine says, rubbing the woman’s back. ‘Take a couple more puffs.’

‘Is she going to be OK?’ Faith says, dashing over, followed by Gabriela. Lori takes a puff, then another, breathes in and out slow and steady, eventually straightening up, her face shiny, her eye make-up smudged.

Leon heads behind the bar, and pours brandy into several mismatched glasses. Everyone takes a glass, before heading across the room towards the table by the window they vacated earlier. Christine, in words that tumble out at speed, tells Faith and Gabriela about the Winslows. Though Gabriela doesn’t seem to understand, her face stony pale, her eyes dark.

Leon paces, taking large gulps of his drink. ‘Whoever did this is in the hotel,’ he says, eyes flicking from one guest to another. ‘Can we even trust each other?’

‘I think we need to find Cameron,’ Christine says as everyone else sits down, banging her empty glass down on the table.

‘Do we? Why?’ Leon’s tone is agitated, his voice trembling. ‘What if this mystery guy, who nobody seems to have seen, did this? Killed the Winslows? Or maybe he doesn’t exist at all?’

‘But, I’ve seen him,’ Faith says. ‘Admittedly not since I’ve been here, which I realise isn’t helpful at all. But he exists.’

Lori gets up and makes her way to the bar.

‘Bring the bottle over,’ Leon calls after her.

Faith’s eyes are focused on the window. ‘What the hell are we going to do?’