They included the report of a girl who had died two years ago after crashing a sports car, but the article, naturally, had made no mention of where the unfortunate young woman had bought the MG in the first place. And since Oxford’s Cowley area was known as a motor city, the chances of it having been bought at Terry Parker’s showroom had to be remote. But Trudy had said that she wanted him to make a note of anything that might even remotely be of interest or related to their case. And although there had been other motor car deaths since the murder victim had come to live in Oxford, this one was the only one he could find that involved a sports car of the kind that Terry Parker specialised in selling.

Mrs Millicent Vander had been honoured by some local arts council for her support of the arts, and had been photographed holding some sort of cut-glass vase.

And Mr Philip Prescott had won a generous prize on the Premium Bonds that he was going to invest sensibly. The accountant had been more than happy to give the reporter covering the story – and thus the newspaper’s readers – a long list of very sound advice indeed. Especially on how you should deal with unexpected windfalls in order to ease the financial burden of your old-age pension years.

Gloomy at having wasted his time, and with nothing worthwhile to show for it, he returned to his father’s house, delighted to find that Clement and Trudy were back in residence and in the study.

He knew they had gone back to Millicent Vander’s house, hoping to get something more from their main witness – and suspect? – but one look at their faces told him they hadn’t met with much success. They quickly admitted that Millie had been pleasant, but uninformative.

‘The lady was definitely nervous about something though, I thought,’ Trudy insisted.

‘Yes,’ Clement confirmed laconically. ‘She did seem to have something weighing on her mind, apart from us. Which, when you think of it, is rather odd in itself. You’d think being questioned repeatedly over the death of one your party guests – and almost fiancé – would be a top priority with most people. But, like you, I had the feeling she was only half-listening to us.’

‘She looked pale and tired, too, I thought, under all her make-up,’ Trudy mused. ‘I don’t think she could be sleeping all that …’ But before she could continue, the telephone rang.

Clement answered it, then, with an amused smile, handed the receiver over to Trudy. ‘It’s for you, Constable,’ he said wryly. It wasn’t often he answered his own telephone and was asked to play secretary. ‘The police station.’

Trudy went a little pale. ‘Oh no! Don’t say Sergeant O’Grady wants me back in already!’