“Hello, Sun Paradise Hotel reception. How may I help you?”
“How often do you clean the rooms?”
“Twice a week, and—“
“Do you usually look under the beds?”
“Yes, of course sir!”
“I don’t think so. I don’t think so. Really, really do not think so.”
“Sorry, sir?”
“I don’t think so, because there is a bloody dead body under my bed!”
There was a silence, one James hoped was shocked and not disappointed, or anything else in the gamut of human emotions.
“WE’ll send someone over to clean it up. Is it anyone you know?”
“Thankfully, no. Not personally, at least.”
“Have a nice day, sir. I’ll send housekeeping over as soon as possible.”



“Help, a kid’s guide to surviving just about anything. Have you ever wondered what you should do if you are trapped by a shark? Or how about if you are attacked in a burning building? This doesn’t even make sense!”
“Perhaps,” Gregory commented archly, “it doesn’t make sense because you’ve mixed the two verbs up.”