‘Oh my goodness, don’t talk to me about wills. That’s what got me so upset in the first place.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be silly. I was the one who asked. John had made a new will. He thought it was time the children all stood on their own two feet and he wasn’t shy about telling them so. Everyone suspects he changed the will to give them less of an inheritance. They all think it’s my fault but I had nothing to do with it. All I ever wanted was John. Even if I couldn’t have him all to myself, I’d rather have had whatever part of him he was prepared to share than have another penny of his money. But he wanted to give me the house and shares in the company.’

  ‘And that was a change to the will? Weren’t you getting all that anyway?’

  ‘Most of it was going to Gordon before whatever changes he made. The other children got a little, and I was to be assured of a roof over my head and a handsome income. But then John took it into his head to “shake the idle beggars up a bit”, as he put it, and suddenly I’m supposed to get the house, a big interest in the company, and Lord knows what else besides. I actually tried to talk him out of it, you know? I don’t need any of that and the children would be apoplectic. Gordon particularly. But he wouldn’t hear it.’

  ‘Have you not seen this new will, then?’

  ‘No, he said he wanted to finalize everything first.’

  ‘That makes sense. And how do you feel about it? Is it a good thing, or bad?’

  ‘I was wondering about it all while I sat here, as a matter of fact. I worked at Bilverton’s for nearly nine years before John married me so I’m sure I understand the business as well as Gordon, but I don’t know if I have any real interest in running it. I didn’t hate it, but I never had a passion for it. That boy lives and breathes biscuits. So I actually think I’d like to come to some sort of arrangement with Gordon where he gets the business and the house, and I get enough to buy myself a nice little flat in London and to provide a comfortable income. Start a new life, far away from them. I’ll pack my bags, and this sorry lot can bicker themselves to death for all I care.’

  ‘Why London?’

  ‘I’ve no family here – I lost both my parents to the flu in ’19. And London’s exciting. I want to live a little.’

  ‘It’s certainly a fun town. I like it there.’

  ‘I think I would, too. But listen to me blithering on. You ought to be getting back to your friends.’

  Ellie looked at the clock on the mantel. ‘Actually, I probably should. The boys were about to join a card game.’

  ‘Oh, I love cards. Do you play?’

  ‘No, I was just going to make sure Ivor hasn’t gambled away our house. Or the children. But you’re welcome to come along if you want.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer a few more moments with my thoughts. Some other time, perhaps?’

  ‘You’re always welcome in the chapel. They’re a friendly bunch.’

  ‘I’m sure they are. Thank you for listening to me. It all feels a little less oppressive now I’ve said it out loud.’

  Ellie stood. When she’d seen how upset Marianne had been she had been hesitant to mention the recent tragedy, but she decided now it would be worse to say nothing. ‘Look, I don’t want to worry you unduly – you’re already upset – but something else awful has happened.’

  ‘Oh, no. What?’

  ‘I didn’t know whether to say anything, but . . . you see . . . I’m afraid we just found poor Hetty – Howard’s friend – dead in her room.’

  Marianne put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my word. How awful. Why didn’t you say something sooner? I’ve been wittering on about my own petty problems and there’s a girl dead upstairs.’ She blanched. ‘How did she die?’

  ‘We’re not sure. Veronica was showing us round the house. We saw her door open, went inside, and there she was.’

  ‘Gracious. Have you told—’

  ‘We’ve just told Gordon. Veronica left him to get on with things.’

  Marianne stood. ‘But no one else? I should tell Howard – she was his friend.’

  ‘I think that’s a good idea. And I’d better get back to the band. Can I get to the chapel if I go out these doors?’

  ‘Of course. There’s a gate in the wall over there to the left – it’ll bring you out on the main path.’

  ‘Thank you. We’ll see you at dinner, I hope.’

  Ellie left through the double doors into the walled garden.

  Ellie opened the chapel door and was greeted by a discordant cacophony from the band, who were playing an out-of-tune, out-of-time rendition of ‘Twinkle Twinkle’. It was a genuinely unpleasant sound. The saxophones were honking, the trumpet squeaking. Skins’s drums sounded as though they were being played by a particularly uncoordinated gibbon.

  She hurried in, worried they might all have been drugged again, and wondering what on earth she might be able to do about it. As she skidded to a halt on the tiled floor, she saw at once the reason for the musical chaos – they were playing each other’s instruments. Even Katy had joined in, on her sister’s clarinet. The song ended to cheers and guffaws.

  ‘What the heck . . . ?’ she began, as the laughter died down.

  ‘Hello, love,’ said Skins, taking a saxophone from his lips. ‘They got bored of cards.’

  ‘So I see. But . . . I mean, did you even tell them about Hetty?’

  ‘He did, sweetie,’ said Puddle from behind Skins’s drum set. ‘But there’s nothing to be gained from us moping about, so we decided to lighten the mood. Can you play the flute?’

  Ellie shook her head. ‘Not even a little bit.’

  ‘Perfect. Grab mine and join us. It’s the small case under Skins’s chair.’

  ‘I don’t even know how to put it together.’

  ‘Even better. We’re trying “Frère Jacques” next.’

  Elk waved Eustace’s trumpet. ‘What key?’

  ‘If you can play it in any key I’ll give you a fiver,’ said Dunn.

  ‘It comes in three pieces,’ said Ellie.

  Skins looked over. ‘What does?’

  ‘This flute. Look.’ She held up the sections of the disassembled flute. ‘How the heck . . . ?’

  ‘Take the bit with the lump with the hole in it, and put it in the long bit . . . No, other end . . . That’s it. Now take the short bit with the keys on and put it in the other end of the long bit . . . No, other way round.’

  ‘How should it all line up?’

  ‘Don’t ask me – I’m just the drummer. It probably doesn’t matter. Can you get a note out of it?’

  Ellie had seen flutes being played and knew it was something like blowing across the top of a bottle. She knew how to do that. She tried it. The instrument emitted a mournful hoot.

  Puddle tapped the drumsticks together. ‘That’s it,’ she said, delightedly. ‘Everybody ready? After four. One, two, three, four.’

  Once again, the tuneless din began. It had vaguely the rhythm of the familiar French nursery rhyme, but none of the assembled – otherwise highly skilled – musicians was able to get anywhere close to the tune. Ellie tapped at the flute’s keys and managed to change the pitch of the hooting. She was beginning to imagine that she was approaching something vaguely like the melody, but hysterical giggling from the rest of the band brought it all to a premature end before she could claim fully to have mastered it.

  Katy was smiling, but was less amused than the musicians. ‘Can we do something else now? Something I’m good at. How about charades?’

  There were murmurs of agreement before Dunn played a perfect ‘Shave and a Haircut’ on the trombone. The others attempted the ‘five bob’ response, but it was as chaotic as before.

  ‘Cheat!’ said Puddle. ‘You never said you could play the trombone.’

  He stood and placed Benny’s instrument carefully on the chair. ‘You never asked.’

  ‘It was implicit, sweetie. The idea was that we pick an instrument we can’t play.’

  ‘I can get a tune out of all of them,’ he said with a smile. ‘It’s funny how many things you pick up if you live long enough.’

  ‘Ten bob says you can’t,’ said Mickey.

  ‘If you want to lose your money . . .’

  ‘Talk is cheap, mate. Let’s see the cash.’

  Dunn fished in his pocket and produced ten shillings. He placed it on the lid of the piano. Mickey put his own pile of coins next to it.

  ‘Mrs Maloney,’ said Dunn, ‘you’re an independent. Do you know the “Colonel Bogey March”?’

  ‘I do,’ said Ellie. ‘In D?’

  Dunn thought for a moment. ‘I think B flat would be easier on most of these idiot things. Any objections?’

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ said Mickey with a wicked grin. ‘You said you could get a tune out of all of them. As written, if you’d be so kind.’

  Dunn shrugged. ‘D major, then, please, dearest Eleanora.’

  ‘Your wish is my command,’ she said, and sat down.

  Dunn grabbed a saxophone. ‘Ready when you are.’

  Ellie played the two-bar introduction to the famous march, and then Dunn came in with the first phrase. He managed to swap to the clarinet for the second. Ellie slowed occasionally to allow him to rush from chair to chair, and by the end of the second verse he was sitting beside Ellie playing the tune as a duet on the piano. Ellie carried on playing while he hurried to the drum set and motioned politely for Puddle to vacate the stool. He sat down and rattled out a military-style accompaniment on the snare drum until Ellie reached a suitable stopping point.

  He took a bow as his colleagues applauded.

  Puddle was especially delighted. ‘Why have you never let on that you can do that?’

  ‘It’s never come up.’

  ‘I had no idea,’ she said. ‘Did you know he could do that, Skins?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Skins. ‘I thought everybody knew. I was surprised Mickey made the bet, to be honest. Although, of course, now I know nobody had any idea, I’m disappointed in you, Barty boy. You should have raised the stakes a bit. All that talent for ten bob . . . Doesn’t seem worth it.’

  ‘I couldn’t take all the poor lad’s money – it wouldn’t be fair,’ said Dunn. ‘I made a sacred vow only to use my powers for good.’

  ‘Big of you,’ said Mickey, handing over Dunn’s winnings.

  ‘Ta very much. Now, then – what are the teams for charades?’

  Before anyone could answer, the chapel door opened and two footmen appeared.

  ‘Hello, lads,’ said Skins. ‘Fancy a game of charades?’

  ‘That’s very kind of you, sir,’ said the elder of the two, ‘but we’ve been sent to speak to Mrs Cannon.’

  ‘Katy,’ called Skins. ‘Two gentlemen here to see you.’

  While Katy dealt with the footmen, Ellie took Skins and Dunn to one side. Quickly and concisely she recounted her conversation with Marianne.

  ‘I’m still in two minds about her,’ said Skins, when she had finished. ‘On the one hand she loved him too much to bump him off. Even the . . . “dalliance” with Charlotte didn’t put her off. But then again, if she really did love him, she’d have been broken by a betrayal like that. That sort of feeling can lead to murder.’

  ‘And she could be lying, anyway,’ said Dunn. ‘If the new will is signed, she’d have every reason to get rid of him, take the money and do a bunk to the bright lights of London Town.’

  ‘I didn’t get the impression she was lying,’ said Ellie. ‘She seemed very sincere. The tears were real.’

  ‘We really need to see this will everyone’s going on about,’ said Skins.

  Dunn nodded. ‘We need to get away later and search the study. Properly, this time.’

  ‘But we can’t all go,’ said Skins. ‘It’d be easier to keep it on the old QT if just one of us was in there.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Ellie. ‘Who?’

  ‘You’d probably have a better idea of what we’re looking for,’ said Dunn.

  ‘I don’t know about that. What do you think, Ivor?’

  ‘You’d certainly know a will from a wedding invitation.’

  ‘So would you, you idiot. Actually, why don’t one of you do it. I’d quite like to hang around the family some more – see what else they might reveal.’

  ‘You go, mate,’ said Dunn. ‘You like all that sneaking-about stuff.’

  ‘Can’t deny it. I’ll slip out after dinner.’

  ‘That’s settled, then,’ said Ellie. ‘But I think our presence is required in a game of charades for now. Come on.’

  Teams had been organized and the game had begun, but there was a brief interruption when Katy told the band that if they packed their bags, the footmen would take everything up to the house. They would be sleeping in the guest rooms that night.

  ‘Gamble?’

  ‘Sounds like “gamble”? It’s only one syllable, mate. How can it be “gamble”?’

  ‘Oh, right. How about . . . Oh, oh, “bet”. Sounds like “bet”?’

  ‘Looks like it.’

  ‘First syllable “ham”, second syllable sounds like “bet”? What sounds like “bet”, though? Wet? Set? Get? Met? Net? Fret?’

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Elk,’ said Dunn. ‘It’s Hamlet.’

  ‘Ohh,’ said Elk. ‘Of course. Wait, he said it was a play.’

  ‘It’s a play. Shakespeare.’

  ‘Oh, right. Point to us, though, eh?’

  ‘Point to us. Well done.’

  Puddle got up to mime for her team, but before she could begin, the door opened yet again.

  ‘Ah, good,’ said Howard. ‘Glad you’re all here. Saves me traipsing about the place trying to round everyone up.’

  ‘We’re all here,’ said Ellie. ‘Are you OK, honey?’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be?’

  ‘Has no one told you?’

  ‘About . . . ?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Ellie, going over to him. ‘There’s not an easy way to say it, I’m afraid. It might be best if you sit down. It’s your friend Hetty, Howard. She’s . . . Well, I’m sorry to have to tell you – we found her in her room a little while ago. Dead.’

  Howard gaped for a moment, looking round at the sympathetic faces of the Dizzy Heights. ‘Dead? How?’

  ‘I’m afraid we don’t know.’

  ‘Oh my word. I need to tell her family. And poor Kenneth. He’s an absolute ass, but he loved her.’

  ‘Is there any news on when we’ll be back in touch with the rest of the world?’

  ‘That was what I came to say. I’ve been out, and we’re still stuck – all the roads are completely impassable in every direction. The water levels have gone down since yesterday, but not by much. I fear we shan’t be able to get the car through to Partlow’s Ford until Tuesday—’

  There were groans all round.

  ‘It can’t be helped,’ said Ellie. ‘We’ll just have to make the best of it. Is the phone working yet?’

  ‘Afraid not, no. Sorry to say we’re completely cut off for at least another day, but more likely two.’ Howard sat for a moment, staring blankly towards the vaulted ceiling of the chapel. At length, he lifted himself wearily from the arm of the sofa and quietly said, ‘I ought to be getting back to the house,’ before walking slowly back towards the door.

  Once he had gone, Ellie pulled Skins and Dunn to one side.

  ‘Two murders,’ she said. ‘And unless we can work out what’s going on, the killer might have two more days to kill again.’

  ‘Steady on, Ells-Bells,’ said Skins. ‘There’s nothing to say they’ll kill again.’

  ‘No, but there’s nothing to say they won’t.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it, though,’ said Skins. ‘I mean, we reckon someone killed John over the will. Or some family thing at the very least. But Hetty was just a weekend guest. A friend of a friend. Why would anyone kill her?’

  ‘Remember what Lady H told us when we were trying to work out what was going on at Tipsy Harry’s?’ said Dunn. ‘She reckons there are only three motives for murder – passion, money and covering up another crime. So . . . Howard could have been in love with her and killed her out of jealousy because she was in love with his mate. Money . . . money . . . No, I’ve got nothing on money. But what if she saw something? What if she suspected one of them of killing John? Subtly covering up the first murder with the mysterious death of a dangerous witness would fit.’

  ‘It would,’ agreed Ellie. ‘And that means they might kill again. If anyone else saw something, they’d be next.’

  Dunn smiled. ‘If you’re looking at it like that, we could be next. If the killer gets wind of our suspicions, we might wake up dead.’

  ‘Then we need to be swift and circumspect. We need to figure out what the heck is going on and not let anyone know what we’re up to.’

  ‘Anyone else,’ Skins corrected her. ‘Veronica already knows.’

  ‘We’re all in trouble if it’s her,’ said Dunn.

  Ellie shook her head. ‘It’s not her. The double bluff just doesn’t fit. She’s being too helpful. She’d be steering us in the wrong direction if it were her. She’s just agreed with every request we’ve made.’

  ‘Until we make a request that’ll lead us to the truth. Then it’s good night, Dizzy Heights.’

  ‘You’re a Gloomy Gus, Barty Dunn. Didn’t you see how shaken she was when we found Hetty?’

  ‘That may be, but better a Gloomy Gus than a Murdered Marvin. We’ve got to get cracking. You’ve got to find that will this evening, mate.’

  Skins made a face. ‘What if I find it and it doesn’t tell us anything?’

  ‘That very fact will tell us something, surely?’ said Ellie. ‘It’ll help us rule some people out.’

  ‘I’ll find it,’ said Skins. ‘You just make sure no one comes looking for me.’

  ‘Don’t worry, honey, we’ll keep you safe. We’ll run interference back in the dining room.’

  Dunn looked blankly at her.

  ‘American “football” term, mate,’ said Skins. ‘You’ll be responsible for blocking the running whatsanames and . . . doing something to the quarterbloke. Or something. Just keep the Bilvertons out of the study.’