“Ah, I see you’ve found my calling card.”

The two women spun round, fear on their faces, as Les spoke.

“Uhm, don’t let him scare you,” I said, mentally cursing Les for his lack of protocol. I told him we should have knocked on the door first. “We’ve just come along because, Kristen, isn’t it?” The darker haired girl nodded. “We just need your help.”

Kristen looked at me warily. “Why did he have to give me a hickey on the back of my neck?”

I glared at Les, he wasn’t making this easy. He looked appropriately sheepish.

“He’s, uh, British. Eccentric like that.”

“British? I love a British accent,” Kristen’s sister purred.

“For someone as enchanting as you Madam, I would walk a million miles,” Les spoke in the most perfect British I’d heard.

“How, can I help?” Kristen asked, kicking her sister in the shins.

“We, ah, need you to persuade one of your friends to help too, her name’s Jenna.”

“But, she’s dead,” Kristen gasped.

“Ah, yeah. We’ll try to explain that en route.”