‘Anyway, I seem to have built up quite a respectable list of clients. Some over in Worthing, and as far away as Portsmouth to the West.’

Jude nodded. ‘That’s more or less my catchment area too.’

‘No lack of ailments on the Costa Geriatrica,’ said Jeremiah with a grin.

It was the first thing he’d said wrong. Nothing overt, but just a slight hint of callousness, as though the clients existed for his benefit more than because they were people needing help.

There was a silence, then Jeremiah said, ‘I heard in the Crown and Anchor that your neighbour was actually present at Shefford’s Garage when that awful accident happened.’

‘Yes. Carole Seddon. She was.’

‘Terrible business.’

‘Mm. Did you know Bill Shefford?’

Jeremiah shrugged. ‘I’d met him. Been in there to get petrol, that’s all. Did you?’

Jude shook her head. ‘Like you, I’d met him. You don’t have to be long in a place like Fethering before you know everyone. But I only knew Bill for a polite nod and a “Good morning”.’

‘Your friend Carole knew him better?’

‘A bit. She always went to Shefford’s when there was something wrong with her precious Renault. I don’t have a car.’

‘Ah.’ Another silence. ‘Needless to say, a lot of speculation about the death last time I was in the Crown and Anchor.’

‘You don’t surprise me. Everyone convinced it was murder – and the perpetrator identified as everyone from Cain the Killer of Abel to Russian undercover agents?’

‘That’s about right.’ He grinned. ‘Does your neighbour have a view?’

‘On whether Bill Shefford was murdered?’

‘Mm.’

‘What makes you think she might?’

‘The landlord at the Crown and Anchor …’

‘Ted Crisp.’

‘Ah. I didn’t get his name.’

‘He mentioned that you two had a bit of a reputation locally as amateur sleuths.’

‘Did he?’ said Jude drily. ‘Well, it is the view of my neighbourly Miss Marple that Bill Shefford’s death was an accident. Sorry to disappoint you.’

‘I’ll survive.’ Jeremiah’s smile suggested he wasn’t that disappointed. ‘Oh, incidentally …’

‘Mm?’

‘I wondered if you had been contacted by a woman called Natalie Kendrick …?’

‘Why?’ Jude was instantly and instinctively alert. If Jeremiah was going to ask her about her healing work, he would find her surprisingly circumspect. She had high standards about protecting the confidentiality of her clients.

‘Just that she consulted me about helping her son. Boy – well, man – called Tom. I wondered whether she might have contacted you too.’

‘Why should she have done?’ asked Jude, still cagey.

‘Because I was no bloody use to her. Or to him.’