While Cordelia was studying the pictures more closely, the door opened and Caroline burst in, shouting over her shoulder, “Not tonight, I’ve got too much work to do.” Cordelia started and almost dropped the pictures. Lindsay got to her feet as Caroline stopped in her tracks.

“Good Lord!” the girl exclaimed. “Murderers and burglars in the same week. Altogether too much for me.”

In spite of herself, Lindsay smiled broadly. “Not exactly, no,” she said. “We wanted to be sure of seeing you, and your door was open. I promise we haven’t been reading your letters and sifting through your worldly goods.”

“Didn’t for a minute think you had. Not that you’d find anything of interest if you did. I was just rather taken aback to find the super sleuths waiting to give me the third degree,” Caroline replied, throwing herself down on the bed.

Cordelia remarked to no one in particular. “Good to see the old school grapevine is as efficient as it was in my day.”

“Oh, everyone knows what it is you’re here for. Her Majesty anounced it at assembly. I suppose you want to ask me about that bloody woman. I must say, she caused enough trouble when she was alive without turning the world upside-down now she’s dead. Really and truly, I think whoever put a stop to her should be congratulated, not punished. Still, that’s a pretty antediluvian view, isn’t it? I must say, though, that I think it’s very dim of the police to have arrested The Boss. I mean, there are some pretty primitive people around who might think that killing people is some sort of answer, but really, she’s not that sort at all. Not at all, truly.” Caroline ground to a halt.

“The Boss?” queried Cordelia.

“Ooops! I mean Miss Callaghan,” Caroline replied, blushing furiously.

“Why The Boss?” Lindsay asked.

“Because she lets you know who’s in charge, I suppose. Hey, I hope you don’t imagine I might have had anything to do with the murder? I mean, everyone’s always telling me how hopelessly indiscreet I am, and I suppose I have rather been shooting the old mouth off about the ghastly woman’s death being rather a blessing in extremely thin disguise. But honestly, do I look like a murderer to you?”

Lindsay found herself laughing out loud at the idea. Caroline sprawled on her counterpane, the picture of injured innocence. “Caroline,” said Lindsay, “I can’t honestly say that I think you’re incapable of murder. But from what I’ve seen of you over the past week, I really have to say that if you had killed Lorna, you would have told the entire population of Derbyshire by now. If you’re ever going to commit murder, you really must get laryngitis first.”