“Of course, G. K. already has his own ideas of what happened, and obviously Dorothy as well,” Agatha went on. If her colleagues from the Detection Club took it upon themselves to try to solve the murder, Agatha would be caught in the middle of that as well—especially since Miss Sayers might use it as a publicity tactic. Miss Sayers was always looking for ways to grab the attention of the press. “I suppose that’s what one can expect when a death happens in front of a slew of murder writers. Everyone thought it was a joke at first,” Agatha said, shaking her head sadly. “Poor Father Tooley. And the poison wasn’t even meant for him!

“I do think you ought to go round to the Whittlesbys today before all of the fair gets started,” Agatha continued. “Have Puffley make up a basket of something for you to bring over as a gift from Max and me. It will give you an opportunity to talk to the servants.”

There was a glint in Agatha’s eyes that suggested she was becoming less overset and anxious about the events, now that she had turned the problem over to her capable housekeeper.

“I shall send Mrs. Puffley herself,” Phyllida told her, “as she is friendly with their cook and would be more inclined than I to receive confidences.”

“Excellent plan,” replied Agatha enthusiastically. “Now I must gird myself and go on into battle. I suspect it shall be an uphill one to keep G. K., Dorothy, and Anthony from pulling out their magnifying glasses and setting deerstalker hats on their heads! They’re still remembering that mock trial we did back in London.” She smiled and started off, then turned back suddenly.

There was an arrested expression on her face as she came close enough to speak so quietly only Phyllida could hear. “You don’t think any of the Detection Club could have had anything to do with it, do you?”

Phyllida didn’t hesitate. “No. No, I’m certain of it. What would be the motive? If Whittlesby knew any of them—or had even met one of them, or corresponded with them—we would have known about it. He would have announced it to all and sundry, and rubbed the noses of his Murder Club friends in it. And besides, how would any of them know about Mr. Whittlesby’s special bitters?”

Agatha’s expression relaxed and she nodded. “Yes, Max and I said the same thing to each other. Only, I wanted to talk to you about it as well. Just in case you noticed something that we hadn’t.”

Phyllida hesitated, then plunged on. “I did overhear something yesterday that might be relevant. I haven’t told Inspector Cork about it yet, but I will. He should be calling here soon.”

Phyllida recounted the hushed conversation she’d been privy to the day before.