‘Maybe. Of course, you realize, Carole, if this is a murder investigation we’ve embarked on …’

‘Please say it is.’

‘… and if anyone did know Bill Shefford’s intentions – you know, that he meant to leave the garage to Billy … well, it knocks the motives of a few of our suspects on the head, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it does. Anyway, do your best this afternoon and let me know what happens.’

‘Of course I will. And now,’ said Jude, still slightly aggrieved, ‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea and see if I can get a couple more hours’ sleep.’

‘You do that. Oh, and incidentally, how was your conference?’

‘Very enjoyable.’ She couldn’t keep a giggle out of her voice as she said, ‘I’m not sure it would have been your sort of thing.’

‘I’m absolutely certain it wouldn’t,’ said Carole, with some force. ‘And how were your … friends?’

‘In very good form.’

‘Good,’ said Carole icily.

‘Ah yes, and I almost forgot. I must tell you what they told me about Adrian and Gwyneth Greenford.’

Which is exactly what Jude did. Much to Carole’s amazement.

Rhona Hampton’s palliative care was not exclusively Jude’s responsibility. She was also under the watchful monitoring of her GP, which suited Jude very well. It had never been her view that what she did was in conflict with conventional medicine. Though she had achieved remarkable curative results by healing alone, she had always been happy to regard her skills as complementary to more traditional treatments.

As the old woman’s pain level mounted, the GP had slowly been increasing her morphine dosage. This was administered by Shannon. Her mother could still manage to take the medication orally, though in time a syringe pump might be required. There was no doubt that Rhona Hampton’s condition was worsening but, as her remaining time on earth dwindled, she still never mentioned death.

One effect of the medication was that Rhona slept more. She still welcomed Jude’s visits and managed to vent some spleen against her usual targets, particularly Malee, but the outbursts didn’t last so long. She was tiring, and the relaxation produced by the healing soon brought her the release of sleep.

This was very convenient for Jude. With her client out of it for the time being, it was quite logical for her to step into the Waggoners kitchen, where Shannon was preparing her children’s supper. The kitchen itself was functional rather than modern. No islands. It probably hadn’t changed much since the Sheffords moved into the house. Stuck to the fridge door was the usual gallery of children’s drawings.

Billy’s wife looked up anxiously from the pizza dough she was rolling out. ‘Getting weaker, isn’t she?’