“So that he fell asleep and didn’t remember anything of that night and was convinced that he’d drunk himself into a stupor, thus having no alibi for the murder.”

“Mercy me,” she said and crossed herself. “Now I think of it the bowl of stew was sitting on the counter for quite a while. That Mickey person told me that Mr. Roach didn’t want to eat in the dining room but would have a tray by the fire in the study, so I could clear away the place I’d set for him. So I went in there and I polished the table a little as it was looking dusty. Then when I came back Mickey said I could go home. I don’t know why he thought he could give me orders, but he always did.”

“And did he know that bowl of stew was going to Lord Kilhenny?” I asked.

She thought then nodded. “He did. In fact he made some snide remark about it. Something about getting the scraps from the master’s table. I replied that I didn’t like to see good food going to waste and it was clear Mr. Roach wouldn’t eat the whole thing.”

“So you took the stew down to his lordship,” I continued.

“I did, and left it beside the stove for him to heat up when he felt like it. He was sitting in his chair with a glass of whiskey beside him and was not in the best of moods, I can tell you. He didn’t even thank me but told me to go away. So I did.”

“Then the whiskey and the drugs would have knocked him out for the night,” I said as we left Mrs. McNalley. “Only everything has been washed up long since and we’ve no way of proving anything. But it does suggest that Mickey was part of the plan, sending Mrs. McNalley into the dining room to get her out of the way.”

“Again we’ve no way of proving it,” Darcy said. “Oh no. I can see that Zou Zou has been shopping!”