“No.” Liza backed off at once, partly because she wanted to avoid a repeat of yesterday’s problems, and partly because if she’d kept track of people’s movements right it seemed very unlikely Lady Tabitha had been involved in any of the murders so far. Directly, at least. “But—well—I thought you might be able to help?”

That seemed to mollify her at least a little. Lady Tabitha settled back into her chair. “The poor woman was frantic,” she explained, only slightly pointedly. “Even before you made your—I maintain—ill-advised declaration about her guilt, she was quite convinced that we all thought she was guilty. She believed Belloc was after her, which I suspect he was, and thought that I might be able to use my influence to get her out of a bad situation.”

“Your influence?” asked Hanna.

“Dicky isn’t the only one with friends in law enforcement. I play bridge with some terribly interesting people.”

Something wasn’t adding up for Liza. “Any idea why she’d think that would work?”

“Yeah,” Hanna agreed. “You lot normally only help your own.”

Lady Tabitha gave Hanna a cool smile. “She is a firebrand, isn’t she? First against the wall come the revolution, I suppose? But you’re not wrong: one is rather more inclined to assist one’s peers than strangers one meets in a hotel.”

“And”—Liza could feel something snagging here, something worth pulling on—”she came to you anyway?”

“She made some rather vague threats.” Lady Tabitha’s tone was dismissive as only the aristocracy could be dismissive. “I think she thought she knew something. She didn’t.”

Hanna took over. She wasn’t quite playing bad cop; perhaps more class-conscious cop. “But she did try to threaten you?”

“Yes. And I, of course, responded to that threat by waiting less than a day, then running up a flight of spiral stairs to her bedroom, shooting her in the head, staging her body to make it look like a suicide, then running back down that same flight of spiral stairs, despite my advancing years and bad lungs, to arrive back in my room in time to be found by Mr Burgh on his rounds mere minutes later, not visibly disarrayed or out of breath. Truly, I am a criminal mastermind.”

“You could have hired somebody,” suggested Hanna, who seemed to be skewing harder into confrontation than either of them had intended.

Lady Tabitha remained indulgent, if slightly superior. “In a snowbound hotel with no telephone? I can be a persuasive woman, Mrs Blaine, but if you believe I could persuade a stranger with no criminal history to commit murder on my behalf at less than twenty-four hours’ notice, then you have an almost flattering faith in my powers.”