‘You’re the author of a cookery book, I believe?’ he said.

She made no answer but handed him a paperback which she took down from a bookshelf. Cooking for Nothing, Dishes from Hedgerow and Pasture by Corinne Last. He looked through the index and found the recipe he wanted. Opposite it was a coloured photograph of six people eating what looked like brown soup. The recipe included carrots, onions, herbs, cream, and a number of other harmless ingredients. The last lines read: Stewed shaggy caps are best served piping hot with wholewheat bread. For drinkables, see page 171. He glanced at page 171, then handed the book to Burden.

‘This was the dish Mr Kingman made that night?’

‘Yes.’ She had a way of leaning back when she spoke and of half lowering her heavy glossy eyelids. It was serpentine and a little repellent. ‘I picked the shaggy caps myself out of this garden. I don’t understand how they could have made Hannah ill, but they must have done because she was fine when we first arrived. She hadn’t got any sort of gastric infection, that’s nonsense.’

Burden put the book aside. ‘But you were all served stew out of the same tureen.’

‘I didn’t see Axel actually serve Hannah. I was out of the room.’ The eyelids flickered and almost closed.

‘Was it usual for Mr Kingman to rinse plates as soon as they were removed?’

‘Don’t ask me.’ She moved her shoulders. ‘I don’t know. I do know that Hannah was very ill just after eating that stew. Axel doesn’t like doctors, of course, and perhaps it would have – well, embarrassed him to call Dr Castle in the circumstances. Hannah had black spots in front of her eyes, she was getting double vision. I was extremely concerned for her.’

‘But you didn’t take it on yourself to get a doctor, Miss Last? Or even support Mr Hood in his allegations?’

‘Whatever John Hood said, I knew it couldn’t be the shaggy caps.’ There was a note of scorn when she spoke Hood’s name. ‘And I was rather frightened. I couldn’t help thinking it would be terrible if Axel got into some sort of trouble, if there was an inquiry or something.’

‘There’s an inquiry now, Miss Last.’

‘Well, it’s different now, isn’t it? Hannah’s dead. I mean, it’s not just suspicion or conjecture any more.’

She saw them out and closed the front door before they had reached the garden gate. Farther along the roadside and under the hedges more shaggy caps could be seen as well as other kinds of fungi Wexford couldn’t identify – little mushroom-like things with pinkish gills, a cluster of small yellow umbrellas, and on the trunk of an oak tree, bulbous smoke-coloured swellings that Burden said were oyster mushrooms.

‘That woman,’ said Wexford, ‘is a mistress of the artless insinuation. She damned Kingman with almost every word, but she never came out with anything like an accusation.’ He shook his head. ‘I suppose Kingman’s brother-in-law will be at work?’