“You know, something like this happened in a book I read Esi,” Arthur said. “Only in that one, the assassin ended up falling in love with the woman he was meant to kill and then—”
“For the hundredth time, Michael doesn’t have a lover,” Phyllis said, cutting him off mid-flow. “Cynthiais the one having the affair.”
“Okay, let’s just think about this calmly for a moment,” Nova said, although her heart was racing in a not particularly calm way. “If we think Cynthia might have hired a private investigator then maybe it was perfectly innocent? People sometimes use them when they’re getting divorced, especially if they think their ex is hiding money from them.”
“You’re not looking at the facts,” Phyllis said. “There’s been a theft, a murder and a missing person, and now we find out an ex-spy is involved too. There’s nothing innocent about any of this!”
“I think we should take this information to the police,” Arthur said.
“Absolutely not,” Phyllis snapped.
“But if you think Cynthia might be behind Eve’s death, not Michael, then you have to tell them.”
“I am not going to the police, and that’s final,” Phyllis said, crossing her arms.
“But—”
“They won’t listen to me.” Phyllis was staring at her feet. “In fact, if I tell them it was Cynthia, then they’ll actively dismiss it.”
“But why?” Nova asked.
The older lady paused before she answered, and Nova wasn’t sure she’d ever seen her look so uncomfortable. “The police and I have a bit of a history, as a result of which they’ve made it clear that they’re no longer open to my assistance…”
She trailed off, but she didn’t need to say anything else; Nova understood perfectly. Phyllis had obviously taken her amateur investigations to the police one too many times.
“But it’s different this time,” Arthur said gently. “There’s been an actual murder, and you have important information that could help them.”
Phyllis let out a long sigh. “Six months.”
“What?”
“That’s the maximum prison sentence you can get for wasting police time. And the North Cornish constabulary have made it clear they’d press charges if I ever got involved in one of their investigations again.”
“Ah, I see,” Arthur said, catching Nova’s eye behind Phyllis’s back and raising his eyebrows.
“So, what do we do now?” Nova asked. “We can’t just go barging into this Graham Pierce’s office asking questions about Cynthia, he’d get suspicious straightaway.”
“No, we need a cover story,” Arthur said. “We have to pretend we need his services to get a meeting, and while we’re there we do some digging.”
“Fine, well I’ll call and get an appointment, then.” Phyllis pointed at Ash. “Give me the phone number and I’ll call now.”
“I don’t think you should do it, Phyllis,” Arthur said.
“Why not?”
“For one, Cynthia might be onto you, especially if you’ve been sniffing round the funeral and wake. What if she’s already told this PI about you, and he recognizes you? What if she reports you to the police?”
Phyllis opened her mouth to argue, then obviously thought better of it. “Who’ll go, then?” She looked at Nova.
“No way, I can’t risk it. Honestly, I’m in enough trouble as it is, without getting involved with some dodgy private investigator.”
“I don’t mind going,” Arthur said. “No one will suspect an old Cornish farmer so I can probably ask a few questions without him getting suspicious.”
“I can go too,” Ash said, and they all looked at him in surprise. He blushed but carried on. “I know I’m not very good at talking, but people often don’t notice me, which might be helpful?”
“It’s true, I didn’t spot you when I came in here,” Phyllis said, then frowned. “Are you sure I shouldn’t come too? I’ve spent a lifetime studying one of the best detectives in the world. I’m sure Miss Marple would get all the information she needed and have time for a cup of tea.”
Arthur smiled at her. “We’ll still need your help, Phyllis. If this plan is going to work, you’ve a vital role to play.”
