WHEN SHE HEARD A CRASH IN THE KITCHEN, PHYLLIDA WAS FORCED to leave the sitting room for a moment and thus missed the last bit of Mr. Genevan’s interview. Still, she felt that she’d heard a great deal that might be relevant.

Mr. Genevan, by his own admission, had been near the bar counter and could have placed the poisoned bitters. He also seemed to have nothing but disdain toward Mr. Whittlesby.

The crash in the kitchen turned out to be a chair somehow being knocked over by Rita. No harm done, except that she was sniffling and sobbing so much that Phyllida decided to protect the other furnishings and asked her to sit down.

“Do you live in here at the rectory, Rita?” she asked kindly. “If so, you could come back to Mallowan Hall tonight so you don’t have to stay here alone.”

“Oh, Mrs. Bright, that would be so very kind of you,” sobbed the maid. “Only I can’t be in here all by meself after all of this.”

“Very well. As soon as you and Molly have finished in here—and I see that you’re almost done—you can gather up your things.”

“Oh, thank you, Mrs. Bright,” she said. “But what about Saint Aloysius?”

Phyllida merely looked at her, waiting patiently for further information.

“Father Tooley’s cat,” Rita explained. “Only I hate to leave him all alone tonight.”

“Saint Aloysius will be fine on his own,” Phyllida said firmly. Stilton and Rye had very specific opinions about feline interlopers: they should not exist. “In fact, he will likely prefer to have the place to himself after all of this activity. Tomorrow will be soon enough to decide what to do with him.”

If no one wanted him, perhaps Saint Aloysius could live in the garage with Bradford and Myrtle and chase down any mice or rats that might lurk. As she filled the coffee pot and arranged another small helping of food on a tray, Phyllida meditated pleasantly on the idea of Myrtle having to contend with a condescending feline in her domain.

Thus having attended to the disruption in the kitchen, the priest’s sobbing maid, the cat’s overnight accommodations and potential future ones, Phyllida at last went back to the sitting room, where Inspector Cork was just finishing up with Dr. Bhatt.

“Good evening, Mrs. Bright,” said the doctor, giving her a smile as he left the room. She knew he would tell her about his interview later.

“More coffee, Inspector?” she asked, refilling his cup.

“Yes, thank you, Mrs. Bright,” he said, giving her a shrewd look. “Everything all right in the kitchen?”

“Everything is just fine,” she replied innocently. “But I have a few more things to attend to here and in the hallway. I’ll be as unobtrusive as possible.”

Before Cork could object, Vera Rollingbroke swept into the room.