The inspector turned to him with such overt appreciation and relief that Phyllida could hardly keep from being offended. “What’s that you say?” asked Cork, adopting a completely different tone than the snide one he used with Phyllida. “You’ve examined the motorcar?”

“I have,” said Bradford firmly. “And you see how steep and curving that hill is. It would be a miracle for a motorcar to make it down safely without the ability to brake. I expect it would crash at any speed.”

“Mr. Bradford is a fine mechanic, and if he says so, I believe him,” said Phyllida, wresting the detective’s attention back to herself. She was aware that the other servants were watching with great fascination. “Obviously, whoever cut those brake hoses anticipated that the driver would lose control coming down Marlake Hill—which is precisely what happened. This is a second attempt at murdering Mr. Whittlesby. And Mrs. Whittlesby was once again nearly the victim.” She lifted an eyebrow. “She is either a very lucky woman . . . or a very unlucky one. I haven’t quite decided which.”

“Right, then, Mrs. Bright, thank you,” said Cork. His body was still angled more in Bradford’s direction than hers.

“Now, Inspector,” Phyllida said. “I hope that since I’ve given you some extremely relevant information you will reciprocate and share the results of the testing on Father Tooley. I understand your man from London has been using Dr. Bhatt’s laboratory, and that the work is being done here in Listleigh. I must compliment you on such forethought and competence.”

Cork looked at her as if attempting to determine what to make of this compliment. “That’s confidential information,” he said finally.

“Oh, pish, Inspector. It’s perfectly within your realm of legality to share the cause of death—it will be at the inquest, you know,” she said.

Cork sighed, then capitulated. “Father Tooley had high levels of both nicotine and arsenic in his system. It’s anyone’s guess as to which actually killed him—it could have been either or both of them.”

“As I suspected,” Phyllida replied, ignoring Bradford, who simply could not keep his sardonic noises to himself. “And Saint Aloysius—presumably the cat had high levels of arsenic as well.”

“Yes,” said Cork.

Phyllida nodded, then looked at him in speculation. “One must assume since you weren’t aware of the foul play of the Whittlesbys’ motorcar, and you weren’t here to disclose the cause of death of Father Tooley—such secrecy, as I’ve indicated, is quite unnecessary—that you’ve come here to the cottage for a different reason. Presumably to help determine where and how the poisoner obtained the Monteleone’s Special Bitters. And possibly to interview the servants about who might want to kill their employer.”

“Yes, among other things,” replied Cork in a more subdued manner. At least he seemed to be taking that element of the investigation seriously.