She looked up. “Derek jumped off a roof when they were kids and he ended up in hospital. Bob stayed by his bedside every day for months. And that was just the start. Bob spent his life trying to help Derek, without a word of thanks.”

She muttered something under her breath. I thought she said “runt”. It was what Bob had called Derek that night in the Oak. At the time I’d thought the term was affectionate, but it didn’t sound that way when Amanda used it.

Her voice went up a notch. “And then he reports him? How dare he?”

“But I thought there were several complaints, a number of allegations being investigated.”

She reared up. “Where did you hear that?”

This time I didn’t respond. I had no idea if it was public knowledge or not.

She clicked her teeth. “Bob knew nothing about any of it, but he was still the one getting the blame. Not that Derek cared about that.”

“Bob knew nothing about what?” I asked.

“It was all a misunderstanding. It would have been sorted out. Bob would have been able to sort it out.”

I thought about the four airline tickets Mary had found in their room. Bob had no intention of “sorting” anything out. Had he been killed to stop him leaving?

I tried another tack. “So, you were angry with Bob, then?”

Her eyes flashed. “He should have cut Derek out, brother or no brother. But oh no, he insisted on continuing as if nothing had happened. Thought they could make it up. Bob was too loyal. He even let Derek be event coordinator for the cycle.”

I wondered about the row in the B & B, if it had been about Derek. But Amanda denied it even happened. She said that it was the second time she’d had to deny it, that the guard had asked her about it too. She said she’d never thrown anything at him in her life, she’d never thrown anything at anyone.

But I’d seen for myself that Amanda was capable of just the kind of meltdown that Mary had described. Before I could ask her anything else, she stood up.

“I need to go. Thank you for the coffee.” And with that she flounced out of the waiting room and was gone.

I picked up her mug, spying that there were documents on the carpet too. They must have fallen down the back of Amanda’s chair. I picked them up; they were bank documents. I knew I shouldn’t have, but I snuck a look. She’d filled out a withdrawal slip for five hundred euro for the Jameson Grace Charity account. Amanda Jameson had been trying to take money from the charity’s account, an account that was definitely frozen.

The door opened again. I quickly folded the forms and shoved them into my pocket, but I was relieved to see that it was Leah.