Miss Crowley leaned forward as if to impart some great secret. “They don’t like each other much. Eugene—the brother—has never been fond of Alastair. It has something to do with an old hound dog of theirs, I believe.”

“An old hound dog?” The inspector brushed crumbs from his mustache—or perhaps he was merely attempting to hide a smile or grimace; Phyllida wasn’t certain.

“Yes, although I’m not sure of the particulars. Something about how it died.”

“How did it die?” Phyllida said.

“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Miss Crowley said, as if it was absurd she should even be asked. “All I know is that it started the rift between the brothers and it’s not been any better since.”

“Does Mr. Eugene Whittlesby live here in Listleigh?” asked Cork.

“Yes, of course. He lives with his brother.”

“They live together but they don’t get along,” confirmed the detective.

“Not at all.” Miss Crowley shook her head definitely. “Their mother is an invalid and never leaves her bedchamber. They all live in the same house, which has been in their family for years, of course. They do have some money—but they don’t have as much money as that nasty, boastful Alastair would like everyone to think. Poor Lettice—to have to abide those boys and to have to help take care of their demanding, self-serving mother. If you want to know where Alastair learnt his behavior, it’s right up there in that bedroom his mother never leaves.”

The conversation went on like this for some time, with Miss Crowley offering no relevant information about the feud between the Whittlesby brothers while giving many laborious details about Filberto Fiero’s fictional adventures until Phyllida intervened by knocking over a coffee cup.

Phyllida disliked having to pretend such gauche clumsiness, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The beverage splashed everywhere, including on Miss Crowley’s stockings—which had not been intentional; Phyllida had been aiming for her shoes—and left many pieces of china to be picked up.

This provided an excuse for an overset Miss Crowley to gather up her handbag and take her leave, and for Phyllida to remain in the sitting room for the next interview, which turned out to be Louis Genevan, the well-dressed antiques dealer.

As if he’d learned his lesson from the previous meeting, Inspector Cork immediately took control of the conversation by asking about the gathering for tea at Mr. Whittlesby’s two days earlier.

Phyllida paused in her cleanup duties to pour Mr. Genevan a cup of coffee, then did her best to melt into the background while remaining quietly busy as the interview continued.