“Was there any sign of recent use?” Phyllida asked. “Traces of brake fluid? I suppose you didn’t bother to look,” she added.

“No sign of recent use,” he said firmly. “I did look.”

“Right, then, Bradford. You might make a competent detective someday after all.”

He looked at her, his eyes wide and mocking. “Is it possible I’ve received two compliments from Mrs. Bright in one day? No, in one hour? How can that be?”

She scoffed and rolled her own eyes, then instantly regretted the display of emotion. It was her policy not to allow Bradford—or anyone, for that matter—to know when they’d gotten her goat or irritated or annoyed her.

“Mrs. Puffley appears to have an admirer,” he said a few minutes later, causing Phyllida to once again wonder what had happened to the surly and sulky chauffeur who previously couldn’t be bothered to carry on a conversation.

“Indeed?” she replied, curious nonetheless.

“Did you not notice the way Constable Greensticks was acting in her presence?” he went on. “How he blushed when he sat down next to her? He nearly overset her teacup.”

“The constable? And Mrs. Puffley?” Phyllida couldn’t hold back her surprise.

“You didn’t notice? The great Inspector Bright didn’t notice the constable fumbling around and making cow eyes at her cook?”

“I was engaged in my conversation with Inspector Cork,” she told him in a lofty tone. But she did remember how eager the constable had been to visit the kitchen at Mallowan Hall this morning. “Bringing a murderer to justice is far more important than gossiping about a possible romance.”

But . . . Mrs. Puffley and Constable Greensticks? Why on earth would Mrs. Puffley be interested in that short, pompous, mustachioed policeman? Nonsense. She’d believe it when she saw it.

However . . .

Phyllida’s mood changed swiftly. If Mrs. Puffley and the constable developed a mutual tendre, then surely the cook could extract all sorts of valuable information from the policeman, should Phyllida need it.

She settled back into the seat and plotted about how to assist the constable in making his case with Mrs. Puffley. It would be an uphill battle, she was certain, but Phyllida Bright was undaunted.

If anyone could make such a strange match happen, it was she.

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

IMMEDIATELY UPON THEIR ARRIVAL IN LISTLEIGH, PHYLLIDA DIRECTED Bradford to drop her off near the Screaming Magpie.

“Fancy a pint, do you, Mrs. Bright? At least it’s well after noon,” he said.

“Of course not,” she replied primly, but declined to correct his assumption that her destination was the local pub.

In fact, she intended to visit Dr. Bhatt’s surgery, and saw no reason to advertise this fact to Bradford—for he’d surely attach himself to her once again and insist on poking his nose into her investigation.

“I shall walk back to St. Wendreda’s, so there’s no need for you to wait,” she told him.