‘For a start,’ said Thelma, ‘you saw Neville Hilton later on.’
‘My client has already said, she left the property at around four p.m.,’ interjected Sarah Botha smoothly.
‘Maybe she did.’ It was Liz’s turn to speak, a distinctly frosty edge to her voice. ‘But she came back later. She parked up behind the house, by the playing fields and entered through the back way.’
‘When Neville returned home from Rotary,’ said Thelma. ‘You called him into the Snuggery. You confronted him about his actions regarding Pity Me school. You shouted the name of the school in his face.’
‘When my client last saw Mr Hilton, he was alive and well—’
‘Hardly well,’ interjected Pat, ‘if he was on the verge of a massive heart attack.’
‘You were there when Neville Hilton died,’ continued Thelma. ‘You confronted him, he had a heart attack and he died.’
There was a pause – brief and yet at the same time infinite. When Bun spoke again there was a distinctly nervous quickness to her voice. ‘Even if that was the case’ – she gave Sarah a quick glance – ‘which it wasn’t. But even if it was,so what? The guy died of natural causes. I’ve really got nothing to hide.’
‘So why didn’t you tell the police before that you were staying at the Snuggery in the week leading up to Neville’s death?’ asked Pat.
‘Because I wanted to avoid exactly this type of ridiculous Miss Marple pantomime,’ snapped Bun. ‘It was all a coincidence. And coincidences do happen.’
‘So, you’re saying you didn’t know the property belonged to him?’ asked Liz flintily.
‘Funnily enough,’ said Bun, voice heavy with sarcasm, ‘it wasn’t mentioned on the White Rose Country Cottage website. I wanted a bit of a break, so I hired the cottage – as I had a few months previously. I liked the place; I was able to shuttle betweenRobin Hood’s Bay and there in a couple of hours. I could still keep up with the Zoom calls – I’m all set up at home – but then I could zip across here and have a complete break.’ She gave a simple smile and held out her hands in a ‘there you have it’ type gesture. ‘I know it sounds convoluted – but hey! It worked.’ She nodded at Sarah, who obediently stirred and again the pair seemed on the point of leaving.
The three women looked at her. It was Liz who spoke this time.
‘So why do that to the wall?’ she said.
‘Dowhatto the wall?’ The simple smile became puzzled.
‘Paint a yellow stripe down it,’ said Pat.
Bun shook her head. ‘I feel like I’ve walked into some bonkers episode ofMurder, She Wrote,’ she said, standing up. ‘Good day, ladies.’
‘You painted a stripe down the wall,’ said Thelma. ‘So you could hang your drapes in front of it and pretend you were at home in Robin Hood’s Bay when you did your Zoom calls. You hung your red and orange drapes – there are visible holes at the top of the wall where you fixed the hooks – and painted a small strip of yellow paint where they don’t quite meet. So, to anyone on a Zoom call with you would automatically think you were in your studio back home.’
‘Bun,’ said Sarah. ‘We really need to go.’ But there was less conviction in her voice, and she made no effort to stand up.
‘Now I’ve heard everything,’ said Bun, sinking back down. ‘Why on God’s green earth would I carry out such a ridiculous conjuring trick?’
‘So people would think you were at home in Robin Hood’s Bay,’ said Liz. ‘Like you’d told us you had been for the past four months.’
‘Giving yourself a cast-iron alibi,’ added Pat.
‘Analibi?’ Bun’s voice was soprano with incredulity. ‘Why on earth would I need to give myself an alibi?’
Thelma fixed a sorrowful, steady gaze on the woman. ‘Nevillemight have died of natural causes,’ she said. ‘But you intended to kill him.’
There was another pause. Pat was struck by the sudden thought that to the other clientele of the garden centre café they must look like ladies of a certain age passing the time of day over coffee and cake.
Bun’s voice was low and firm. ‘I absolutely refute that one hundred per cent.’
‘Bun.’ Sarah’s voice was urgent. ‘Bun, as your legal representative I’m advising you to leave now.’
But again, it was as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘What on earthmakes you think for one moment I planned to kill a man I barely knew?’ Bun tried to laugh incredulously and very nearly succeeded.
‘This is what I think must have happened,’ said Thelma. ‘You left the property as you say about four p.m., making sure Sidrah across the road saw you go. Then later on, you came back. ‘You’d left the wall set up with your drapes to look like your wall at home – so when the time came for Davey Fletcher’s memorial service you were able to log in with everyone believing you were taking part from your house in Robin Hood’s Bay. Then you phoned Neville – I’m not sure what you said exactly – at a guess I’d imagine you pretended to be one of his neighbours saying something like smoke was coming from the house, to ensure that he came back at the right time. As he got out of his car you called him over to the house.’ Thelma drew breath and the three friends fixed Bun with a steady, remorseless gaze.
‘Once inside – you confronted him. Told him exactly the damage he’d caused at Pity Me school. And how he was responsible for Davey Fletcher’s death.’
