Each photo had a brief, scrawled message. One picture was of the late, great actor Humphrey Bogart, with his trademark cigarette in his mouth. He was standing in the hallway of this chateau, his arm around a suit of armour. ‘Great stay in this amazing place! Got a new buddy!’ Next to him was a black-and-white photograph of the late Vivien Leigh. ‘Such a great time here. Such history!’ A short distance away was a photo of Peter Sellers. ‘Much preferred it here to Balham!’

As Roy continued admiring the photographs, he noticed a face he recognized but could not immediately place. It was a man in his fifties, with close-cropped hair, standing with his arm around a wild-looking woman. ‘What a gem we’ve discovered!’

Roy looked at the signature but couldn’t read who it was. He looked at the face again, puzzled. He had an almost photographic memory, particularly for faces, which had always helped him in his career with the police. But, however hard he tried, he could not think who the man was.

Maybe he was tired from the long drive, or it was the booze – probably both, he decided. He went back into the dining room and sat back down next to Cleo. ‘Wow!’ he said. ‘I just took a look in the amazing drawing room. You have to go in there – there are photographs of dozens of major celebrities who’ve stayed here!’

‘Well, I hope they got a better greeting than we did!’ she retorted.

8

Half an hour later, Roy and Cleo went back to their room. Both were out of breath from the climb up the tower’s seventy-two steps. Roy gasped, ‘Happy holiday, my love!’

‘Some holiday! So far it feels more like we’re in some fly-on-the-wall film about the Holiday From Hell!’

Cleo knelt and unzipped her suitcase. ‘Poor Kaitlynn’s looking frantic. What are we going to do about Jack?’

‘If he’s not here by dinner time, I’ll nip down to the road in the car and hope to get a phone signal there. Jack’s a smart guy, I’m sure he’s OK. He’s probably stuck in a mighty traffic jam or broken down. Or he might have just got delayed in Paris with all that red tape the French police have. Don’t worry, he’ll rock up.’

‘If he can ever find this sodding place,’ she said.

‘True!’

‘Dinner – yuck – I wish I hadn’t stuffed myself with all that food – I’m full – need to do some exercise. Perhaps we could go for a walk?’

Roy peered out of the window at the falling rain, then gave her a naughty look. ‘Perhaps we could do some other form of exercise?’

She tilted her head and grinned back. ‘Oh, what did you have in mind exactly?’

He took a step towards her and put his arms around her, nuzzling her neck. ‘This sort,’ he murmured.