Settled in his chambers around the corner from Turin's courts of justice, with a stately grandfatherclock ticking in the background, Mr Grande Stevens appears every bit the establishment toff.
Check in: It's hard to shake the Agatha Christie vibe at the windswept inn, what with the grandfatherclock ominously stopped at 4:20, a house dog named Winston, and a Friday-night wine and cheese party where you meet the other suspects, ahem, guests.