The girl was young, her auburn hair arranged on the pillow. Wycliffe could almost believe she was asleep—that is, until he saw her face. She had been strangled, her face brutally smashed—but after death, not before. She lay in a seedy hotel room down by the docks, but her luggage, her clothes, and her make-up all suggested she had more class than her surroundings. Superintendent Wycliffe was officially on holiday, but the case fascinated him. Who was the girl? Why was she lying naked in a shabby hotel room? As Wycliffe begins to investigate, he finds there are too many suspects, too many motives—and too many lies.
