“Then we will just have to ensure that doesn’t happen. Come now, Mr. Dobble, you must admit that the situation is in the most capable of hands. Mine.” Phyllida stood. “I shall have to have a conversation with Inspector Cork about this and insist he release Mr. Billdop. In the meanwhile, I believe it would be prudent to discover who else had cakes in their possession, and from where or how the second bottle of Monteleone’s Special Bitters was obtained. I believe once we determine that, we will have identified our murderer.”

“Digby was certain Mr. Whittlesby was going to win the contest,” Mr. Dobble went on, likely unaware that he was referring to the vicar by his familiar name. “Everyone was.”

“I’ve been unable to find any evidence of the scoring sheets or calculations by Father Tooley,” she told him. “It seems to be missing.”

“What could that mean?”

“It means that someone didn’t want the winner to be made public, of course,” Phyllida told him. “Everyone is so very certain it is Alastair Whittlesby. Perhaps it isn’t. Or perhaps it is. But that’s another thing I’m determined to find out. But first, I must speak with Inspector Cork.”

* * *

It didn’t take long for Phyllida to learn that the inspector had left St. Wendreda’s to take Mr. Billdop to the small jail in the village, and so she decided to confront him there at the constable’s office.

It was still raining, however, and her umbrella was not going to keep her dry shoes dry. She loathed having cold, wet feet. She stood at the entrance to the rectory, frowning at the streams of water ruining her plans.

“Going somewhere, Mrs. Bright?” said a deep voice behind her.

“I should very much appreciate a ride to the constable’s office,” she told Bradford, for once grateful to see him. “It’s a bit wet out there.”

“Of course,” he replied with only a hint of the ironic tone she’d become used to—and without demanding why she wanted to go to the police station. “I’ll bring the Daimler up to the entrance. Wait here.”

As she waited, Phyllida caught sight of Molly, who was talking to a young woman Phyllida didn’t recognize but suspected was another servant. Generally, servants knew servants and limited their interactions to others of their working class. Phyllida, of course, considered herself an exception to this generality.

She walked over to Molly and the other young woman. Servants were incredible gossips, and, of course, they knew everything that went on in their houses.