‘He must have had a fit when he saw Benny.’

  ‘Your gorgeous trombonist?’ said Veronica. ‘I don’t imagine he was best pleased.’

  Skins shrugged. ‘Benny’s been dealing with idiots like your brother – no offence – ever since he came over to France from Antigua in the war. He was in the British West Indies Regiment. Volunteered to fight for king and country. I don’t reckon he should have to put up with it, but it never changes. Best trombone player on the circuit, but most of them look down their noses at him. I thought we were supposed to be better than that.’

  ‘Well, Gordon isn’t better than that, I’m afraid,’ said Howard, with a shrug of his own.

  The concealed door opened and the two kitchen maids entered bearing heavily laden platters, bowls and tureens, which they arranged on the sideboard. It took them several trips to carry everything in, with the last consignment being of silver pots of tea and coffee.

  Dunn thanked them and started pouring steaming hot drinks while Howard invited his musical guests to help themselves to food.

  ‘Maybe we should open a restaurant, you know,’ said Dunn as he sat down. ‘Did you know Mickey was a cook in the army? Quite a good one, as it happens. He could run the kitchen and we could play in our own place without having to scrape around for club dates.’

  ‘Oh, but you’d not be available for any more of our parties,’ said Howard.

  ‘That’s the beauty of it, though. If we had our own place, always ticking over, always taking money, we could book other bands to play the restaurant and we could play wherever we liked.’

  ‘What would we call this dream palace?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘Eleanora’s.’

  ‘That’s very flattering.’

  Dunn shrugged. ‘It’s only fair. You’d be putting up most of the money as soon as your inheritance comes through.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Oh,’ said Howard. ‘Inheritance. I’d completely forgotten about that. I wonder what the old codger left me.’

  ‘I’ve been wondering the same,’ said Veronica as she speared a sausage with her fork.

  ‘Did your father ever talk about his will?’ asked Ellie.

  ‘Not in any helpful detail,’ said Howard. ‘It was used more as a weapon than anything else.’ He slipped into a passable impersonation of his father. ‘“If you don’t sort your life out, you worthless idler, I’ll cut you out of my will. Don’t think I won’t.”’

  Veronica nodded. ‘Mine was always, “If you don’t give up these stupid dreams of independence, I’ll cut you out of my will. Why can’t you be more like your sister?”’

  ‘But he never revealed any details about the will,’ said Howard. ‘I expect Gordon knows. Elizabeth, perhaps?’

  ‘Was her fiancé his solicitor?’

  Howard laughed. ‘Good Lord, no. He never thought much of Peter, did he, Ronnie? Especially not his abilities as a lawyer. He used some old crony of his. Big firm with offices at Oxford and London. Bristol, too, I think. Again, Gordon will know. Gordon will contact them. Gordon will be executor. Gordon will get the lion’s share of the estate.’

  ‘Surely John wouldn’t let you both starve,’ said Ellie.

  ‘I think he’d have loved nothing more. He genuinely once said, “Eversion’s too good for you.”’

  Skins looked blank.

  ‘Turning inside out,’ explained Dunn. ‘Nice bloke, your dad.’

  ‘Well, quite,’ said Howard. ‘You can see why my expectations are low.’

  ‘He didn’t approve of your new job, I gather,’ said Dunn.

  ‘He didn’t, as a matter of fact. How did you—’

  ‘I told them last night,’ said Veronica. ‘I told them all about us.’

  Howard chuckled. ‘Did you, by crikey? Was there any family secret you didn’t blurt out to our guests?’

  ‘Well, the poor souls are being forced to endure our company for a good deal longer than they bargained for – I thought it only fair to warn them of the full potential horror of it. Forewarned is a four-poster bed or whatever the phrase is.’

  ‘It’s something like that, certainly.’

  Hetty arrived, yawning, at the door.

  ‘And here’s the divine Miss Hollis,’ said Howard. ‘Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Not at all badly, thank you, sweetheart. Is everyone well?’

  ‘As well as can be expected under the circumstances,’ said Veronica.

  Hetty was ambitiously filling a breakfast plate. ‘Yes. Quite. Once again, I’m so sorry about your father. Is there anything useful I can do today?’

  ‘Not a thing, old thing,’ said Howard. ‘We’re just stuck here waiting for the floodwaters to subside before life can resume and matters progress. What are you chaps doing?’

  ‘Us?’ said Ellie. ‘Well, I . . . I don’t really know. The band will probably play cards in the chapel and keep out of the way, I expect.’

  ‘That’s the plan,’ agreed Skins. ‘As far as I know.’

  Hetty’s sleepiness suddenly disappeared. ‘Will you be playing again? Would you mind awfully if I came down to join you?’

  ‘I say, old girl, steady on,’ said Howard. ‘It’s bad enough that the poor blighters are stuck here without you latching on to them.’

  Hetty seemed crestfallen. ‘Oh.’

  ‘We’d like nothing more,’ Dunn reassured her. ‘If anyone wants to come down they’ll be more than welcome. It’ll be either cards or jazz, and both of those are better with more people.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She beamed.

  She sat down next to Dunn and tucked into a heroic breakfast while chattering eagerly about the latest recordings from America.

  As predicted, the weather was still too miserable for anyone to want to be outside, and the family spread themselves around the house while the Dizzies retired to the chapel.

  Ellie, Skins and Dunn took up residence in the comfy chairs by the tea urn while the rest of the band attempted to organize a seven-handed poker game.

  Ellie had her notebook and Dunn, once more, was in charge of making the tea.

  ‘I need to run through the suspects again,’ said Ellie as she flicked to another page in the book. ‘I’ll make a list.’

  ‘All right,’ said Skins. ‘Gordon. He was angry with his old man for having it away with his missus. He’s got to be the odds-on favourite.’

  ‘Inheriting the business and the house wouldn’t hurt, either,’ said Dunn, handing them their cups of tea. ‘Keep going, I’ll just take these down to the others.’

  Ellie started making notes. ‘So a simple crime of passion, then. Revenge for the cuckolded eldest son.’

  ‘It’s a strong motive,’ said Skins. ‘And Veronica said he was a bully, so he’s clearly not a nice bloke.’

  ‘Did you meet him? I saw him at the party. I’m pretty sure he slapped his wife.’

  ‘Slapped her?’

  ‘They were arguing – presumably about her affair with John – and while I was discreetly looking away there was a slapping sound. When I turned back she was holding her cheek.’

  ‘Blimey. It takes a nasty bloke to do that. A nasty, arrogant bloke to do it in public.’

  ‘He’s top of my list, then. What about the widow, Marianne?’

  ‘She’s pretty much in the same position as Gordon. The avenging betrayed wife. And she’s bound to benefit from the will, too.’

  ‘OK, so quite high up then. What about Charlotte?’

  ‘Gordon’s adulterous wife? I can’t see it. Why would she kill him? From what you say she’s more likely to want to kill Gordon.’

  ‘I don’t know. Some sort of twisted guilt? Or maybe it wasn’t a two-way thing?’

  ‘John coerced her, you mean?’

  ‘It happens all the time.’

  ‘All right,’ said Skins. ‘We can include her, but I’ll not be convinced without more evidence.’

  ‘Sounds fair. What about Uncle Malcolm?’

  ‘Long-standing family feud? Resented his big brother for getting all the money?’

  Ellie chewed the end of her pencil for a moment. ‘That’s a thought. Family resentments run deep, after all.’

  Dunn had returned. ‘Where have we got to?’

  ‘Elizabeth,’ said Skins.

  Dunn shook his head. ‘Boring Elizabeth? She has it all.’

  ‘She hates Marianne, though,’ said Ellie. ‘Could you hear them talking in here yesterday? John was threatening to cut the spending on the wedding and reduce her allowance, and Elizabeth blames Marianne.’

  ‘That would make her want to kill Marianne, though,’ said Dunn. ‘Not her dad.’

  ‘There’s that business with her bloke, though – Peter,’ said Skins. ‘John did something to put the kibosh on something he was working on. Might have lost a lot of money.’

  ‘That’s certainly a motive for Peter,’ said Ellie. ‘But unless Elizabeth has a good deal more about her than people make out, I can’t see her shooting her father over the price of a few bouquets and a couple of new hats.’

  ‘But it would be helpful to know exactly what it was that John did to Peter,’ persisted Skins. ‘I think he’s a definite possibility. There’s something about him.’

  ‘I’ll write it down,’ said Ellie. ‘What about Veronica?’

  ‘Would she be helping us investigate if she were the murderer?’ asked Dunn.

  ‘It could be a double bluff. Or she could be getting close to us to find out how much we know, and then steer us in the wrong direction if we get too close. She’s not especially loyal to the family, either, is she? She couldn’t wait to dish the dirt.’

  ‘She doesn’t have much of a motive, though,’ said Skins. ‘Other than whatever objections she might have to the family because of her Bolshie tendencies, she doesn’t seem all that bothered by them or anything they do. She’s just getting on with her own life. Why would she want to kill him?’

  ‘Fair dos,’ agreed Ellie. ‘Howard?’

  ‘Too obvious,’ said Dunn. ‘The old man bullied him.’

  ‘I’m not sure the courts see “too obvious” as a line of defence.’

  ‘All right then, it’s too improbable. The happy-go-lucky life and soul of the party patiently devises a means of shooting his dad in a locked room and making it look like suicide. If he were going to kill him it would be part of a screaming row over John’s endless needling. Everyone would see it.’

  ‘If you’re going to use “improbable” to rule them out, mate,’ said Skins, ‘then none of them did it. The locked door makes everyone unlikely.’

  ‘But we agree someone did do it,’ said Ellie. ‘Don’t we?’

  ‘Wrong kind of bullet wound. Drugged Scotch,’ said Dunn. ‘So, yes, we agree.’

  ‘Then what about Hetty Hollis?’

  ‘She doesn’t even know the family, from what I can make out,’ said Skins. ‘She’s a friend of a friend. What possible motive could she have?’

  ‘John had an eye for the young ladies. Maybe he made a pass at her.’

  ‘No,’ said Dunn. ‘Even if he did, the murder took planning, didn’t it? We’re agreed on that. If he tried it on and she lost her temper and shot him . . . I mean, where did she get the gun? How did she lock the door from the inside? How did she get out while Ellie and the Bilverton sisters were outside?’

  ‘What if he had the gun out to clean it? She picked it up . . . Bang! Then she hides in the secret room.’

  ‘What secret room?’

  ‘The secret room Veronica’s looking for.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘Actually, yes,’ said Ellie. ‘Then what?’

  Even Skins was beginning to get a little puzzled. ‘Then what what?’

  ‘How did she get out of the room?’

  ‘She waited till . . . Oh, I don’t know.’

  ‘I mean, clearly something weird happened,’ said Dunn, ‘but she wouldn’t have been able to improvise it all on the spot.’

  ‘She’s a bright girl, mind you. Thinks on her feet. You saw her yesterday singing with Mickey – she was keeping up with him on songs they’d never sung together. Takes brains, that.’

  Dunn shook his head. ‘Maybe so. But even if she could come up with a brilliant plan like that on the hoof, how did she get there in the first place? Before the girls got to the study, I mean.’

  ‘She ran.’

  ‘All right, how did she run to the study while she was singing with us in the chapel?’

  ‘And what about the drugged Scotch?’ added Ellie. ‘Where does that fit in?’

  Skins looked crestfallen. ‘You’ve got me there. But it doesn’t really matter anyway. Barty’s right – how did any of them get into the study while they were all sitting with us? Everyone was here when you and the sisters left to get the picnic, Ells.’

  ‘And no one was wet when we got back,’ agreed Ellie. ‘We were soaked, but everyone else was dry. If one of them managed to sneak out before John left without us noticing, they also managed to stay completely dry while they made the return journey in the pouring rain.’

  ‘And sneak back in without any of us noticing,’ said Dunn.

  ‘And yet we still agree he didn’t shoot himself,’ said Ellie. She frowned. ‘So there’s someone else in the house, or there’s something we’re missing.’

  ‘We need to—’

  Dunn’s musings on whatever it was they might need to do were interrupted by the arrival of Malcolm Bilverton.

  Chapter Seven

  Malcolm seemed to be limping a little more than Ellie remembered as he walked into the chapel and sat down with them on one of the upright chairs near the urn. Dunn offered him a cup of tea, which he gratefully accepted.

  ‘How is everybody?’ he asked.

  ‘We’re fine,’ said Ellie. ‘But more importantly, how are you?’

  ‘Shocked. Saddened. Angry.’

  ‘Angry?’

  ‘Perhaps that’s the wrong word. Frustrated, perhaps? Guilty?’ He thought for a moment. ‘No, definitely angry. With myself, that is. He was my brother. I should have been able to see that he was getting desperate enough to . . . Well, you know.’

  ‘Ah, yes,’ said Ellie. ‘Of course.’

  ‘But enough about me. I came down here for a little diversion. I wondered if your chaps might be playing.’

  ‘No sign of it so far,’ said Dunn. ‘As you can see, there’s us having a chinwag up here, and there’s a dodgy-looking card school down the other end.’

  ‘If my time among musicians has taught me anything,’ said Malcolm, ‘it’s that they’re generous and friendly, that they’ll always help one out if one finds oneself in dire need, but that one should never, ever, under any circumstances, play cards with them.’

  Skins laughed. ‘Especially not this lot. They’ll rob you blind.’

  ‘I’m tempted to say that some of them cheat,’ began Dunn, ‘but that wouldn’t be true.’

  ‘No?’ said Malcolm.

  ‘No,’ said Skins. ‘It’s not just some of them who cheat – they all do. It’s like it’s part of the game.’

  ‘So if you’re not cheating along with them,’ said Dunn, ‘they’ll have your last farthing.’

  ‘It seems as though the original advice was sound,’ said Malcolm. ‘It’s still disappointing to find the studio free of music, though.’

  Skins nodded. ‘It has charms to soothe the savage beast, music. That’s your actual Shakespeare, that is.’

  ‘It’s William Congreve,’ said Dunn. ‘And it’s breast. “Music has charms to soothe a savage breast.” Although some Roman bloke said it moved savage beasts, so you might be on to something.’

  Skins made a face.

  ‘What?’ said Dunn. ‘I live alone. I—’

  ‘—read a lot. Yes, we know.’

  ‘If you want to play something yourself, someone might join in,’ said Ellie. ‘Look what happened to me yesterday. It’s your studio – there’s nothing to stop you.’

  ‘Only my lack of talent. I’d be terribly self-conscious playing in the presence of real musicians.’

  ‘We’re less judgemental than you think,’ said Skins. ‘But no one’s going to force you.’

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Dunn. ‘I wouldn’t mind learning a bit more about this studio of yours, if you want something to take your mind off things.’

  Malcolm smiled. ‘I could bore for Britain on the subject of my studio. Are you sure you want to know?’

  ‘Not half,’ said Skins. ‘You coming, Ells-Bells?’

  Ellie held up her cup of tea. ‘Thank you, but I think I’ll sit this one out and finish this.’

  ‘Can’t say I blame you,’ said Malcolm with a chuckle.

  ‘I might play the piano myself, in a bit,’ she said.

  The three men got up and left her to finish her tea.

  ‘You’ve seen what we do out here,’ said Malcolm as he led them down towards where the altar had once stood. ‘The microphone I spent so long setting up yesterday converts the sound into an electrical signal. It runs through this wire . . .’ – he picked up a cotton-wrapped length of flex – ‘. . . and into the gubbins in here.’

  They followed the wire into a side room full of arcane electronic boxes, a recording gramophone, two regular gramophones and a large loudspeaker.

  ‘This is very impressive,’ said Skins, as Malcolm described the function of the various pieces of equipment. ‘Can you play us back something we recorded yesterday?’

  ‘Of course. Give me a moment.’

  It took Malcolm a couple of minutes to retrieve one of the shellac discs from a rack against the wall and put it on to one of the playback gramophones. The boys smiled as they listened to the sound of their own band coming back at them from the loudspeaker.

  ‘We’re not half bad, you know,’ said Skins, when the number was over. ‘We should probably take up music professionally.’

  ‘It’s worth considering, certainly,’ said Dunn. ‘The others would like to hear this. Can this loudspeaker be moved outside?’

  ‘Sadly not,’ said Malcolm. ‘I’ve got the stand screwed down to try to minimize the vibration. I’ve got another pair on order so I can put them out in the main room for playback, but it’ll be a while before we get them.’