Fen’s hand flexed on Pat’s shoulder, the small palm giving her an unmistakable shove. She rose, marched over, and grabbed her brother in an awkward hug. They weren’t a family for casual embraces, but it was surely what Fen had meant, and it needed doing.

Bill was rigid for a second, and then his arms came round her. Pat didn’t think they’d held each other since the memorial service for Frank and Donald, and the memory made her grip tighter. She couldn’t lose another brother. She couldn’t lose quiet, solid, wonderful Bill.

“Oh Lord,” Bill said into her hair after a moment. His voice was just a little uneven. “It’s a bit ripe, my own sister thinking I’m covering up a murder.”

“Serves you right.”

“Did you imply you weren’t going to hand us over to the police even if we had done it?”

“Shut up.”

Bill’s arms tightened. It felt...comforting, in fact. Perhaps there was something to physical affection, freely given, that loosened the muscles. “Are we all square, old girl?” he asked, voice muffled. “I’m fond of you, you know.”

“Same.” And that was enough sentiment. Pat stepped back, wiping her irritating eyes, saw Jimmy’s rigid back, and said, “You’re a bigger idiot than Bill, Jimmy Yoxall. Do try to use what brains you have.”

Jimmy made a noise in his throat. Fen went up to him, putting a hand on his arm. “Don’t worry. It really is all right.”

“It isn’t,” Jimmy said violently. “If Pat of all people suspected I could have done this thing, what will the police think? What will everyone think? God knows my family has every reason to want him dead, and if nobody else could have done it, and I’ve made us look guilty with my idiotic efforts—and if the police find out—”

“Steady.” Bill went over, taking him by the shoulders. “Come on. It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is,” Jimmy said. “It’s exactly that bad.”

“Was Mr. Haworth blackmailing you?” Fen asked. “I don’t want to pry, of course,” she added as both men turned to look at her with identical expressions, “but you see, it makes quite a lot of difference. If he knew, he might have something written down, say, which we’d need to get rid of before the police arrive because there’s no point confusing them with irrelevant facts, is there? And more to the point, if he wasn’t blackmailing you, he was blackmailing someone else.”

Jimmy gave an exasperated sigh, but Bill’s expression sharpened. “That’s the nub of it, isn’t it? You’re sure of what you heard, Pat?”

“Absolutely.

“And Haworth didn’t speak to you about this, Jim?”

“I would have told you.”