“Indeed I did. That made me think—I ought to bring back Mrs. Oliver in a full book sometime,” Agatha replied. “Perhaps I’ll even do a story with a murder that happens at a Detection Club meeting. She would be a member, you know, being an international bestselling writer of sensational novels. And so they’d all be suspects, of course. The Detection Club members.”

“I should certainly like to know more about her, other than her penchant for apples,” Phyllida said, wondering how much of herself Agatha would put into the writer character of Ariadne Oliver.

“She has a detective named Sven or something like that—he’s Norwegian,” Agatha said, her eyes going cloudy with thought. “And everyone loves him, but she’s come to loathe him. No—perhaps he’ll be Finnish. Or Swedish. I’ll have to think on that. Either way, Mrs. Oliver is finished with him, but the public simply won’t let her kill him off.”

“I should hope not,” Phyllida said vehemently, thinking of her beloved Poirot. “It’s really not quite done for a writer to murder her own detectives. Look how it turned out for Mr. Conan Doyle—he had to bring back Holmes.”

“He’ll be simply impossible,” Agatha went on, trundling along on her train of thought. With a chuckle, Phyllida handed her a notebook and pencil. “This Sven or Gunnar or whoever he is. And perhaps even a bit ridiculous—like Hercule. But people will like him, so Mrs. Oliver simply can’t get away from him.” She sighed.

The sound of wild barking drew Phyllida’s attention. Sure enough, Myrtle came hurtling around from the back of the house, ears streaming out behind her, tail flying.

She automatically dodged the animated mop—which, as always, seemed to make a beeline for her—but Agatha bent to greet the slathering beast, thus encouraging its depravity. “You’re such a sweet thing, aren’t you? Saving our Phyllida like you did. You quite definitely deserve to be inducted into the Order of Faithful Dogs.”

Phyllida’s lips flattened into a straight line. “The beast didn’t actually save me, you know. I was perfectly fine and quite capable of freeing myself from the situation. It only hurried things on a bit.”

Agatha stood, laughing. “Yes, of course, dear Phyllida. You are the most competent, brilliant, efficient of women, and I am quite delighted to have you on my side, at least. I shudder to think what it would be like if you weren’t.”

Phyllida shook her head, giving her friend a wry smile even as she expertly dodged Myrtle’s attentions. “You’re only relieved everyone has gone off and you can return to your work.”