The children moved on to jam tarts. Mrs. Ditchley abandoned her post at the cooker, wiped clear a spot at the pastry end of the table, and with a sigh sat down with her cup of tea.
“What was it you were asking, Miss Dalrymple,” she said, “when this noisy lot interrupted?”
“I wondered whether Katy heard what Dr. Pettigrew said just before the crash, and if she can remember.”
“Bet she’s forgotten,” jeered her nine-year-old brother.
“She can too remember, Billy. Give her a chance. Go on, Kate,” urged Jennifer, “what did he say?”
Katy swallowed a mouthful of sticky, flaky jam tart and announced importantly, “He said, ‘You think you’re so clever, but I know how it was done!’”
“That’s right,” Jennifer crowed. “That’s what she told me before, just those exact words. Told you so. There was another bit first, though, Katy, remember?”
“Not ’xackly.” A note of doubt entered Katy’s voice.
“She told me, Miss Dalrymple,” Jennifer persisted. “She told me when we were by the Megalosaurus waiting for Granny. She doesn’t remember ’cause she didn’t understand properly. Is it all right if I say it for her?”
Since Daisy was not bound by the rules of evidence regarding second-hand evidence, she eagerly assented, hoping the beginning would shed light on the cryptic end, perhaps even supply a name.
“‘You fossil-eyed fool.’ That’s what he said, wasn’t it, Katy?”
“Maybe.” Katy was still dubious.
“Was it ‘fossilized,’ Katy?” Daisy asked. “‘Fossilized fool’?” That was the sort of cheap insult Pettigrew liked to throw around.
“Maybe. I thought he said eyes. And fools.” Her lips trembled. “I don’t know for sure. Granny, I don’t know.”
“Told you so!” Billy triumphed.
“William Albert, that’s enough of that. Clear the table, and you can help me wash up. I don’t care if it’s not your turn. It doesn’t matter, duckie, there’s nothing to cry about. Come to Gran, then.”
“I’m sorry,” said Daisy. “It’s all right, Katy. Much better to say you don’t know than pretend you do. Will you tell me one more thing, if you know the answer?”
Katy raised her jammy face from Mrs. Ditchley’s yellow-flowered bosom and nodded dolefully.
“You too, Billy, and Mary as well. Give me an honest answer. Did any of you see anyone crossing the dinosaur gallery while your Granny was gone?”
Three heads shook in unison.
“I was looking at the dinosaur’s teeth,” said Billy regretfully. “Was it the murderer, miss? Cor, I wish I’d seen the murderer!”
“You get on with collecting up those plates sharpish, young man,” said his grandmother. “I’ve your mum and dad’s supper to cook yet.”
“I must be going,” said Daisy. “Thank you so much for the tea and the delicious tarts.”
Mrs. Ditchley set Katy on her feet, told Jennifer to wash her sister’s face, and accompanied Daisy to the front door.
“Are you working for the police?” she asked bluntly.
“Not exactly,” Daisy temporized. “I thought it might be easier for the children to talk to me rather than a police officer.”
“Very likely,” Mrs. Ditchley conceded.
“I can tell the police what they said, and maybe they won’t need to ask any more questions. You see, as a matter of fact, it turns out that the detective in charge of the case is my fiancé.”
“Well now,” said Mrs. Ditchley, her amused face lit by daylight as she opened the door, “what a coincidence!”
“Actually,” Daisy confessed, “I believe he was put in charge because I’m mixed up in it.”
