“But you see, Veronica got her way,” Val pointed out.

“Yes, I see that.” Livingston walked to the railing of the porch and looked out over the formal country garden. Amazing, the amount of work that must go into those exquisitely laid-out beds. Frankly, gardening bored the hell out of him. “A labor of love, clearly,” Livingston commented.

“We have three blooms a year,” Philip said, coming to stand beside Livingston. “A great joy to work with one’s hands, to feel the earth in your f-f-fingers, to see seedlings sprout.”

Livingston glanced at him, then followed Philip Whit-comb’s gaze. He was not looking at the beds of flowers but over them to the left, where the woods began and from where there were faint sounds of construction. It was there that the skeletal remains of Athena Popolous had been uncovered.

Philip, seeming to sense Livingston’s calculating stare, turned restlessly. “I want a cup of tea,” he declared. “Inspector?”

It was not the most gracious invitation Livingston had ever received, but he quickly accepted and just as quickly noted the annoyed expression on Whitcomb’s face.

“I’ll ask Emma to pour it.” Val got up from the glider. Clearly she shared Philip’s resentment at Livingston’s continued presence.

When she left the porch, Livingston said, “Professor Whitcomb, there is something I must ask you and I prefer to do it in Miss Twyler’s absence. It has again been suggested that Athena Popolous had a schoolgirl attachment to you. I must ask you to be entirely frank with me. Did she ever in any way pursue you, perhaps try to use you as a confidant?”

Philip’s face flushed. “A-a-absolutely not. I simply would-would-wouldn’t have any part of her.”

“Then she did try to single you out,” Livingston said swiftly.

“She-she-she got in the habit of pedaling past here on Su-Su-Sunday afternoons when I was in the front gardens. It was most a-a-annoying.”

“How frequently did she pedal by and how often did she stop?”

“Several times. I tried to get r-r-rid of her immediately. I was sorry for her. She was so ob-obviously unhappy. I should have been stern with her.”

“Professor, please understand. My questions are simply directed to learning whether Athena Popolous may have confided or tried to confide in you about an unhappy love affair or any problem that might help lead us to her killer.”

Philip bit his lip nervously. “Whenever she ma-ma-managed to corner me, it was to say she couldn’t g-get over her aunt’s death. Naturally it was difficult not to listen to her. I told her she should g-get more involved with the other students . . . make friends she could confide in. When I stressed it was in-in-inappropriate to visit me outside Saint Polycarp’s, she simply showed up anyway. That ha-happened off and on five or six times when I was working in the front garden on Sunday afternoons.”