“What time did they have this argument?” Daniel reached into his coat and withdrew the small notebook he never seemed to be without.

Awareness rippled around the table, a reminder that a detective sat amongst them and he was in search of a killer. Some showed disapproval, some keen interest. Juliette looked to Agatha, at the foot of the table, and at her father’s empty chair at the other end.

“Perhaps this is not the best time to discuss such matters,” Uncle Bertie interjected smoothly. “We must consider Miss Montgomery’s feelings.”

“I agree. It’s uncouth at best.” Lord Darby frowned at Daniel. “I don’t understand why you are here. You’re a policeman.” He said the word as if it tasted bad.

Daniel tucked his pencil into his notebook, red creeping up from his collar.

“He is here at my invitation,” Agatha said, her voice steady. “He did my father a great service only weeks ago, and my father thought highly of him. He did return a treasured painting that had been stolen, after all.”

“And,” Duke Heinrich said, “he captured a killer and rescued an entire cache of stolen artwork worth many thousands of pounds. The newspapers called it a nearly impossible feat.” He raised his glass and nodded toward Daniel.

Juliette carefully avoided looking at Uncle Bertie, whom she had helped to steal most of the artwork, and at Daniel, who had not only suspected them but at one point had tried to arrest them. Thankfully, no one else here knew how the true events unfolded.

The luncheon concluded with no more being said about either Daniel’s presence or the argument between Mr. Montgomery and Mr. Coombe.

Was Mr. Coombe now a suspect? Did the mill manager shoot his employer over something as trivial as a schedule for renovations? Had anyone investigated this line of inquiry?

Guests rose and began to depart, once again expressing their condolences and sorrow at Agatha’s loss but also looking relieved to escape the grieving household. Amongst the departures, Juliette managed to pass by Daniel close enough to slip the paper with Agatha’s responses into his pocket, as well as a few deductions of her own. She surreptitiously tapped his elbow as she went by but didn’t look at or acknowledge him.

Mr. Earnshaw bent over Agatha’s hand. “I am sorry for bringing up anything unpleasant. I should not have spoken about your father and Mr. Coombe in such a manner. They had their differences, but each had great respect for the other. I was most blessed to work for your father, and I hope that in the coming days I may be of service to you as well. When you are ready to go over your father’s financial papers, I will be happy to review them with you.”