“Miss Marple never walked away from a case, especially not so close to the end,” Phyllis protested, but Arthur and Ash were already standing up. The older woman looked like she was about to complain again, but then she let out a grunt and stood up too.
Nova led them back through to the hallway and opened the door.
“I hope you have a wonderful time at your wedding tomorrow,” Arthur said as he stepped outside.
“Yeah, good luck,” Ash said, following the older man out.
Nova waited for Phyllis to step outside, too, but there was no sign of the woman. She turned round to see her standing by the stairs, rummaging through a box on the floor.
“What are you doing?”
“Is this the stuff you got in that charity shop last week?”
“Yes, why?”
Phyllis didn’t answer. She was holding the framed painting Nova had bought, the one of a pretty cottage against an azure-blue sea. Phyllis was staring at the painting through narrow, critical eyes.
“Come on, we should head to the bus stop,” Arthur called from outside.
Phyllis put the picture down, opened her handbag and pulled out a smaller frame. “Here, look.”
She thrust it at Nova, who stifled a sigh as she took it and lookedat the picture inside. It was an old black-and-white photograph, a holiday snap by the looks of things, showing a woman and a young boy.
“What am I looking at, Phyllis? I don’t recognize either of these people.”
“That’s Michael and his mother.”
“What?” Nova looked at her in horror. “Where the hell did you get this from?Pleasetell me you didn’t steal it?”
“Of course I didn’t steal it,” Phyllis said, sounding insulted at the accusation. “I just happened to be holding it when I heard Cynthia coming upstairs and so I jumped into the wardrobe to hide, and then put it into my handbag without realizing. It was a high-pressure situation.”
“If Cynthia realizes it’s missing, she could report you to the police for theft,” Nova said, thrusting the photo back at Phyllis; the last thing she needed was her fingerprints on stolen goods.
“What’s going on?” Arthur said, stepping back inside.
“Phyllis has stolen—”
“It is not stolen! And anyway, you’re missing the point. Look at the photo again.”
She held it back out and both Nova and Arthur leaned forward to study it.
“Who’s the lady?” Arthur asked.
“Ignore the lady.Look.”
Phyllis grabbed Nova’s framed painting and held it up next to the photo. Nova’s eyes flicked between the two, and then she let out a gasp.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Nova
“The first time I saw this photo, I knew there was something vaguely familiar about the cottage,” Phyllis said. “But it wasn’t until just now I realized where I’d seen it before. It’s the same one as in this horrible painting of yours.”
“It’s not horrible, Esi quite likes this sort of thing,” Arthur said. “But I’m sorry, I’m not sure I understand the relevance of it.”
“Remember the first time we spoke to Cynthia, the day after Michael disappeared?” Phyllis said. “She complained about how much Michael had left her to deal with, including sorting out all of Eve’s things. And when I went to the wake, I saw boxes of books and bags of old clothes in Eve’s bedroom.”
“What, so you think this painting belonged to Michael’s mum?”
