‘And we’re only hearing what people heard from this Judy person,’ said Liz.
‘Exactly,’ said Thelma. ‘That’s my pointexactly—’
A shrill cascade of trills broke into the moment and they all wordlessly looked at Thelma’s phone, sitting on the table next to her iced mango juice.
‘Jax Hilton,’ said Thelma.
‘Jax Shally,’ said Pat. ‘Ringing for the third time. Turn it off.’
‘It might be important,’ said Liz.
‘Or,’ said Pat, ‘it might be “Hi. How are you getting on with solving my ex-husband’s death? Shall I leave it with you?”’ Her mimicry was spot on and the other two smiled.
‘I can’t turn it off,’ said Thelma. ‘Teddy’s going to let me know when he’s likely to be finishing his Sunday deliveries. We’re planning an expedition to the pick-your-own.’
‘Rather you than me in this heat,’ said Pat.
‘Anyway,’ said Liz. ‘Go on with what you were saying.’
She eyed Thelma’s drink. How many sugar cubes were in a glass of mango juice? A lot, she guessed gloomily. They’d had a rather nice mango drink at home but following Jacob’s blitzkrieg it had been summarily replaced with bottles of sparkling water.
‘Well,’ said Thelma. ‘There’s a couple things that strike me about this altercation. First of all, there’s the question ofwhereit took place.’
‘In the garden,’ said Pat.
‘But no one saw it in the garden,’ said Thelma. ‘Judy Bestall only heard it. She was in the back field, remember – she couldn’t have actually seen anything much through that hedge. But remember, too, it was the first of the hot days so in all likelihood the windows would have been open.’
‘So, this row was happening inside?’ said Liz. ‘That would make more sense.’
‘You wouldn’t row with your wife outside,’ agreed Pat. ‘You’d get them inside the house then give them a roasting.’
‘No,’ said Thelma. ‘Not in the house. The Old Barn is set back from the field. If they’d been in the house, Judy might have heard raised voices but not made out the words.’
‘The Snuggery!’ said Liz.
Thelma nodded. ‘It’s right next to the back hedge – and one of the living room windows directly faces it.’
‘And it’s where Neville was found dead,’ agreed Pat. ‘Okay, so let’s say Neville was arguing with Ffion inside the holiday flat.’
‘But why were Neville and Ffion in the Snuggery and not the house?’ said Liz, fumbling for a tissue.
Thelma gave them a look they knew well – her ‘denouement look’ as Pat termed it.
‘If it was Ffion,’ said Thelma.
There was a pause as these words sunk in.
‘But surely this Judy said she’d heard Ffion?’ said Liz.
‘She heard a woman and assumed it was Nev’s wife. But she didn’t see her. And Ffion had gone off to Carlisle on some horse event, remember.’
‘So she told the police,’ said Liz darkly, remembering the stony-faced figure on the horse.
‘People didn’t seem to think so,’ said Pat.
‘She could’ve lied,’ said Liz. Both a liar and a murderer? She shivered.
‘But did anyone actually see Ffion?’ said Thelma. ‘That’s the question. Everyone’s saying she lied to the police, but the police would’ve checked her story. And there was an event in Carlisle that Friday. I looked it up – it started at eight thirty so Ffion would have had to leave Hollinby at six thirty at the latest.’
