There was only one shirt hanging over a chair in the corner, and a single pair of shoes lined up next to the wardrobe, although there were several other pairs inside. Phyllida found receipts from antique dealers with items Mr. Eugene had acquired for Rengate Pictures, his employer: a silver tea set, a beveled mirror, a table gas lamp from 1900, a coat rack, and more.

One of the receipts caught her attention, for it was from a small shop in Belgravia. The proprietor’s name was printed across the top: LOUIS GENEVAN.

She pursed her lips. So Mr. Genevan had done business with both Whittlesby brothers: one had purchased an expensive table—but not its chairs—and the other had purchased an American spittoon dating from the middle of last century. Hardly comparable in cost and size, but very interesting nonetheless.

“What about Mr. Genevan?” asked Phyllida. “When he was here on Wednesday, did he speak to Mr. Eugene?”

“I don’t recall,” replied Drewson. “Possibly. I was busy bringing in tea for Miss Crowley, for she doesn’t touch spirits. I had to bring in an entire service just for her! She even complained that the cinnamon buns had nuts on them, and why didn’t I cut the lemon bars into smaller sizes. Everyone else was happy with the sherry and cocktails.”

“And on Thursday, it appears Mrs. Whittlesby drove to Wenville Heath to pick up her hat,” Phyllida said. “Did Mr. Eugene go with her?”

“Thursday . . . let me think about Thursday,” replied Drewson distractedly. He was looking pointedly from the entrance to the bedroom to the windows overlooking the front drive. Clearly, he was ready for Phyllida to leave the bedroom. “Ah, yes, when Mr. and Mrs. Alastair returned from their trip into town that morning, she took the MG and went over to Wenville Heath to get her hats, and I believe she did some shopping. Mr. Eugene was not at home at the time; I don’t know where he was. He took his bicycle and went off, as he does.”

Phyllida mulled over this information as she started down the stairs. “What were Mr. and Mrs. Alastair doing in Listleigh? Did Mrs. Alastair get up unusually early?” she asked.

“She was up unusually early that day, but it was because she was bringing flowers to St. Wendreda’s. She does that once every month—makes us run about all morning getting them together—and decorates the altar or something. It’s part of her donation and service to the church—that and the money Mr. Alastair gives. When she goes, it has to be after morning mass but before the midday prayer service, so she has to rise early.”