‘Thank you,’ said Katy. ‘We’ll try not to intrude.’

  ‘It can’t be helped. We’re going to move my father to the ice house for the time being, and then try to get by as best we can until the flood recedes.’

  With a forlorn shrug, he turned and left.

  While the rest of the band cleaned and packed away their instruments, Skins, Ellie and Dunn went down to the lounge area at the other end of the chapel.

  ‘What are we going to do?’ said Ellie.

  ‘I thought we could nip up to the house and get some pork pie and beer,’ said Skins. ‘Then wait to see what the arrangements are going to be for dinner.’

  ‘You know what I meant. What are we going to do about John Bilverton?’

  ‘There’s not much we can do, is there?’ said Dunn.

  ‘We said that about the missing diamonds and the Aristippus Club,’ she said. ‘But we stuck our noses in there and solved it. And I have to do something to distract me from worrying about the children. We told them we’d be back this evening.’

  ‘I doubt they’ll remember the exact time and date,’ said Skins. ‘And Nanny Nora will keep them happy and busy.’

  ‘But she’ll worry, too, if we can’t contact the house.’

  ‘I understand that,’ said Dunn, ‘but how will poking our noses in here actually help anyone? There’s plenty of other things we can do to distract ourselves.’

  Ellie frowned. ‘Don’t you think these people would prefer to know the truth?’

  ‘At least one of them wouldn’t,’ said Skins. ‘If he didn’t kill himself, then one of them did it. And they definitely wouldn’t want people to know that.’

  ‘None of the family can have done anything,’ said Dunn. ‘Everyone was here in the chapel when he copped it.’

  ‘Everyone except Elizabeth and Veronica,’ said Ellie.

  ‘But you were with them.’

  ‘Not the whole time. I was on my own when I heard the shot.’

  ‘And where were they?’

  ‘Down in the kitchens with the servants.’

  ‘QED,’ said Dunn. ‘You said they came up together, and they couldn’t have got out of the study and down the stairs after shooting him because you were outside the door when you heard the shot and you didn’t move until they reached you.’

  ‘So it must have been one of the others,’ said Ellie. ‘Or one of the servants.’

  ‘But the room was locked from the inside,’ said Dunn. ‘And they were all in the chapel with us, anyway.’

  ‘The killer could have jumped out of the window and run back. I bet you weren’t keeping tabs on all of them.’

  ‘I’d swear they were all there, but you can check with Katy. She was sitting with them. I’d have noticed that one of them was wet, though, even if I had lost track of them for a few minutes. I mean, look at the state of you. It’s impossible to get to the house and back in this weather without getting so much as a drip on you.’

  ‘Unless . . .’ said Skins.

  ‘Unless what, mate? Unless there’s a magic cabinet that made them disappear from the study and reappear in the chapel? Or they were hiding under the desk, and Ellie and the sisters didn’t notice them? Then when they all left, the killer sneaked out and raced back to the chapel by a covered pathway we don’t know about, and arrived just before they got here?’

  ‘No, I was going to say, “secret passageway”. You know what these old places are like.’

  ‘That’s entertainingly imaginative of you, but I tell you, they were all accounted for,’ said Dunn.

  ‘You were the one who said he didn’t shoot himself,’ said Ellie. ‘Now you’re doing all you can to argue that no one else could have done it, either.’

  ‘I’m not saying that. I’m saying it couldn’t be one of the family.’

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘A servant with a grudge? A party guest?’ suggested Dunn. ‘They hid themselves away when everyone was leaving. Then they came out when the old bloke went into his study, shot him—’

  ‘And then what? A servant would just melt back to their job, but where would this mystery party guest go?’

  ‘They went back to their hiding place, waited for you three to come back here and then scarpered out the front door.’

  ‘And how far will they get?’ said Ellie. ‘You heard Howard – the whole place is flooded.’

  ‘It’s a right old puzzle and no mistake,’ said Skins with a grin.

  Ellie shook her head. ‘We need to get some pork pie and beer into you.’

  ‘Hunger impairs the cognitive whatnots. It’s been proven.’

  ‘Then let’s go up to the house,’ she said. ‘We can see about searching that study while we’re up there.’

  They collected the others from their comfy chairs and set off.

  Back at the house, the members of the Bilverton family were scattered among the ground floor rooms, sitting quietly alone or in small groups. None of them had eaten, but someone had put the picnic tea out on the dining table.

  Veronica was on her own in the salon when the Dizzies arrived.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. ‘You remember where the dining room is?’ She indicated the door to her left. ‘Please help yourselves.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ellie. ‘If there’s anything any of us can do to help. Anything at all. You only have to say the word.’

  ‘You’re very kind. I think we just have to try to get through as best we can until civilization is restored and we can go through all the . . . all the formalities.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Ellie. ‘We’ll try to keep out of the way. Is there anywhere we can sit to eat where we won’t be disturbing anyone?’

  ‘For some reason no one likes the garden parlour, so that’ll probably be empty.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘The door in the hall next to Papa’s study.’ She stopped, and swallowed a small sob.

  Ellie held the young woman’s clasped hands for a moment but said nothing further. The others took this as their cue to slip quietly into the dining room.

  There were, as promised, pork pies and beer, as well as everything else they could imagine being served at a posh picnic. Not that many of the band had ever been on a posh picnic, but they’d read about them in books.

  Skins filled two plates and went out into the Grand Hall, then through the door to the garden parlour. If the sun had been shining it would have been a light, airy room. Double glass-paned doors sat between enormous windows, all of which looked out on to a walled formal garden. In better weather it must have been magnificent, and Skins was struggling to imagine why the family might dislike it.

  He sat on one of the comfortable chairs that lined the walls and tried to balance his plate on his lap. He was soon joined by Ellie and the remaining Dizzies.

  ‘It’s rather nice in here,’ said Katy. ‘I wonder why the family don’t like it.’

  ‘South-facing,’ said Elk. ‘It’ll be a suntrap in the summer. It’ll get really hot.’

  The rest of them goggled at him.

  ‘What?’ he said. ‘I might not be as well read as some of you lot, but I can tell north from south.’

  ‘How?’ said Vera.

  ‘I know it was cloudy when we arrived but you could still see where the sun was. This room faces south.’

  ‘You’re a source of constant amazement,’ said Dunn.

  ‘Well, I think it’s a charming room,’ said Katy. ‘I’m not sure about these dreary paintings, but the room itself is a delight.’

  ‘Hear, hear,’ said Puddle. ‘Now then, you lot . . .’

  ‘Which lot?’ said Skins.

  ‘You lot. You, and Ellie and Barty. What were you talking about back in the chapel? Were you planning one of your investigations?’

  ‘Investigations?’ said Vera. ‘Oh, like at the Aristippus Club. Was that an “investigation”? I thought you just stumbled into all that. Was it . . . you know . . . a proper thing?’

  ‘They were working for the rozzers,’ said Puddle.

  A piece of Scotch egg paused on its way to Vera’s mouth. ‘You never were. Well, I’ll be blowed.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Skins. ‘We know a detective from Scotland Yard. Well, sort of. And Ellie’s got a couple of pals down in Gloucestershire who do a bit of detecting on the side.’

  ‘On the side of what?’

  ‘Well, they’re ladies of leisure these days,’ said Ellie. ‘But they used to work for the Secret Service. And you’re right, Puddle, we were wondering what we should do.’

  ‘I think we should sit tight and wait for the doctor,’ said Katy. ‘I’m happy to book engagements, negotiate fees and try to get some champagne in the dressing room, but I didn’t sign up to be a detective.’

  ‘Oh, Katy, you stick-in-the-mud,’ said Puddle. ‘You’ve always been like this. Live a little.’

  Katy harrumphed.

  ‘Actually,’ said Ellie, ‘I think we ought to find out what’s been going on before the doctor gets here. If they get the family doctor in, they’ll make sure he tells the coroner it was suicide and no one will ever know the truth – the murderer will get away with it. We have to have incontrovertible evidence of foul play before he arrives.’

  ‘I say,’ said Puddle. ‘How exciting. What do you want us to do?’

  ‘Just keep your eyes and ears open when the Bilvertons are around, really – that would be tremendously helpful.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  ‘Well, there is one thing you can do right now. Would you be an absolute darling and pretend you have no idea where we are while we sneak next door and have a look round John Bilverton’s study?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Puddle. ‘I am the very soul of dissemblement. Is that a word? It is now.’

  ‘You’re going into the room where he shot himself?’ said Katy.

  ‘He didn’t shoot himself, sweetie,’ said Puddle. ‘You heard the boys.’

  Katy harrumphed again. ‘He still died in there. You’re all mad.’

  ‘We’ll keep you covered if anyone comes in here looking for you,’ said Elk.

  ‘But there’s not much we can do to make you invisible out in the hall,’ said Vera.

  ‘Or if one of them decides to take a look in the study themselves,’ said Puddle.

  Ellie frowned. ‘You’ve got a point. But I don’t think that’s very likely. They’re all in a bit of a state – they’re not going to want to go in there if they don’t have to.’

  ‘When are you planning to go?’ asked Puddle.

  Ellie looked at Skins and Dunn. ‘Now?’

  Skins nodded, his plates empty. ‘No time like the present.’

  ‘I’ll take a look and see if the coast is clear,’ said Dunn. ‘No point in us all barging out of here and barrelling straight into a Bilverton or one of the servants.’

  He went to the door and looked about as casually as he could manage.

  ‘There’s no one about,’ he said. ‘Let’s go.’

  Chapter Five

  Dunn led the way with Ellie close behind and Skins at the rear of the column, keeping an eye open to make certain they were unobserved.

  ‘We’re not on patrol in no-man’s-land, mate,’ said Dunn, when he saw the way Skins was prowling behind them. ‘No one wants to shoot you.’

  ‘I’d not be so sure about that,’ said Skins. ‘If we’re right, there’s definitely someone here who likes to shoot people. But that’s not the point. I don’t want to upset them, that’s all. We’re going to be nosing about in the room where their old man died. If we get caught we’re not going to be the most popular people in the place, are we?’

  ‘Fair dos. But you do look a bit of a nit, tiptoeing about like that.’

  Skins tried to relax. ‘Have you ever noticed how difficult it is to walk normally once you start thinking about it?’ he said. ‘I mean, you do it all day but as soon as someone says you look like a nit, controlling your legs is suddenly the hardest thing in the world. Imagine being a spider and having to deal with eight of them when your mate says you look like a nit.’

  Dunn shook his head and turned his attention to the study. The door and its burst lock had been pulled to, but he only had to push it open to gain entry. He did so gingerly, afraid it might creak, but the hinges were well oiled and it swung silently inwards.

  John Bilverton’s body had been taken away and there was little to show that anything horrible had happened. The books on the shelves were arranged alphabetically by author but some had been replaced unevenly, giving the impression they were regularly used. The fireplace was clean and stacked neatly with new logs. There were papers on the desk, as though he were still working on them, and his pen lay uncapped on the topmost document. There was a decanter and a glass of Scotch beside the blotter.

  The only things that looked in any way out of the ordinary were the splintered segment of door frame with the lock keeper still screwed securely to it lying on the floor, and a tasselled brocade cushion propped up on the windowsill.

  ‘That cushion isn’t from this room,’ said Ellie.

  ‘How can you tell?’ asked Skins.

  ‘Look at it. That pattern matches the chairs in the library. Everything in here is leather and mahogany. It’s a man’s room with a capital M. He wouldn’t have something so . . . so . . . oh, what’s the word?’ She looked at the boys, but they offered no help. ‘You’re useless. Well, whatever the word is, this cushion belongs somewhere else.’

  ‘He might have had piles.’

  ‘It would be on his chair, then,’ she said.

  ‘It might have fallen off when they moved the body,’ said Dunn.

  ‘Maybe. But make a note of it. It’s wrong.’

  Skins was looking at the gramophone.

  ‘This is a tasty bit of gear,’ he said admiringly. ‘You seen this, Barty? It’s all electric, like the studio. I didn’t even know they were out yet. I read about how they were starting to make them in America. Must have cost a fortune.’

  ‘It did,’ said a voice from behind them.

  The three friends looked round to see Veronica standing in the doorway.

  She came in. ‘Uncle Malcolm bought it when he equipped his studio. Actually, he bought two – the other one is in the drawing room. What are you doing in here?’

  Ellie thought for a moment. If they were serious about trying to solve this mystery, they’d need an ally in the household. Sneaking about undetected was clearly going to be tricky, and having a family member to vouch for them would help. She looked at the boys, but once again they offered her nothing. So she made a quick decision.

  ‘We’re investigating . . . recent events.’

  ‘Papa shooting himself?’ Veronica didn’t seem quite as upset as Ellie expected.

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Or, rather, no. We don’t believe he did shoot himself – we think he was murdered.’

  ‘What on earth makes you say that?’ exclaimed Veronica, looking suddenly alarmed. ‘He was alone in a locked room.’

  ‘The boys in the band can explain it better than I can, but it has to do with the nature of the wound.’

  Skins nodded. ‘The wound Ellie saw could only have been made by a bullet fired from more than a couple of feet away. It had to be someone else. Was your dad left-handed?’

  ‘He was, yes.’

  ‘Oh. Still, it just means the killer knew him well enough to remember.’

  ‘The whole household knew – he never stopped going on about how inconvenient everything was. “Whole bloody world’s designed for right-handers.” How could anyone have done it, though? The room was locked and no one was in the house except Ellie, Elizabeth and me.’

  ‘We don’t know that ourselves, yet,’ said Ellie gently, ‘but that’s what we want to find out for you. If we can establish how it happened, we might discover who did it.’

  ‘Well, if it was murder, you won’t be short of suspects,’ said Veronica. ‘He wasn’t . . . how best to put it? He wasn’t a “nice” man. Honourable, law-abiding, a pillar of the community – he was all of that and more. But at the core of it all was a cold, manipulative, dislikeable human being. And he raised a family of cold, manipulative, dislikeable children. Any of us could have killed him. Lord knows I wanted to many times.’

  ‘But you didn’t,’ said Dunn. ‘Did you?’

  ‘No. But if he didn’t kill himself, I’d like to know who did.’

  ‘Even though it might be one of your brothers?’ said Skins. ‘Or your sister?’

  ‘I didn’t like him, and I may have daydreamed about killing the old bastard, but he was my father and I loved him. Grudgingly, most of the time, through tears and gritted teeth, but one loves one’s parents no matter what. And he didn’t deserve to die. Justice needs to be done and all that.’ Veronica stood to her full height in her black evening dress, having changed out of her sodden things. Ellie admired her strength and composure.

  ‘We’ll do our best to see that it is,’ she said. ‘We’d rather keep our suspicions to ourselves for the time being, though, so it would help enormously if you could . . . “cover for us” isn’t quite the right phrase – it makes it sound like we’re up to no good – but if you could help keep what we’re up to away from the others, that would be swell.’

  ‘Whatever you need,’ said Veronica.

  Skins, meanwhile, had been examining the papers on the desk.

  ‘Is this as you found it earlier?’ he said. ‘Nothing’s been moved?’

  Veronica looked for a moment. ‘I can’t be sure, but it seems to be about the same. Why?’

  ‘When people commit suicide they usually leave a note. Explanation. Apology. Even accusation, sometimes. There’s nothing here.’

  ‘I confess that’s what I originally came in looking for,’ she said. ‘I never thought him the type to take his own life, so I very much wanted to read his explanation.’

  ‘Well, if he left one, I can’t see it.’

  ‘Another minor argument in the case against suicide,’ said Ellie.

  There were footsteps in the hall.

  Elizabeth called from outside. ‘Ronnie? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m in the study.’

  ‘Good Lord, what are you doing in there?’