Jude’s smile faded. The hardening of his expression was such a contrast to when he was talking about his dog that it gave me a jolt, and I remembered his frosty exchange with Bob Jameson the night before.

“Not really.” His voice was flat as he returned his cup to its saucer. It looked surprisingly delicate in his large hands. I noticed he tapped it four times just as he’d done with his pint the night before.

“But he was the head of the charity you’re raising money for, wasn’t he?” Phyllis persisted.

I wondered where she had found this out. I wouldn’t have put it past her to be googling like mad as soon as she heard the news. Jude seemed surprised too. But he just nodded.

“There’s a piece about his death in the Independent this morning,” I said. “He seems to have been pretty well known.”

“You didn’t like him,” Phyllis said, eyeing Jude over her own teacup.

“No, I didn’t,” he said finally.

“Why not?”

His tone was cold. “Let’s just say Bob Jameson believed very much in the principle that charity begins at home.”

Phyllis’s eyes widened. “You mean corruption? Embezzlement?”

Jude shook his head. He didn’t want to say anything more. Phyllis sat quietly for a few seconds and I wondered if she’d pursue it. But she didn’t.

“Still, his wife and brother must be very shocked,” I said eventually. “It seems likely that his death wasn’t an accident.”

Jude bowed his head. “I’m sure they are, and I’m sorry for them. But I think if they’re looking for someone to blame, they’re going to have quite a list of people who would have been more than happy to see Bob Jameson dead.”

There was an uneasy pause, broken suddenly by a noise from downstairs, a kind of cracking, creaking noise, followed by the sound of something breaking, and running, gushing water. The three of us stood up simultaneously and made our way to the top of the stairs.

We stood there in shocked silence as dirty rainwater flooded into the shop. I felt Phyllis shudder at my shoulder, and I reached out to touch her hand. We’d been just in time. Fifteen minutes later and all her stock would have been destroyed. Everything from Jackie Collins paperbacks to P. G. Wodehouse first editions.

Chapter Ten

PHYLLIS LOANED ME some wellies which were both pink and huge, but they got me across her bookshop floor and the waterlogged square, and back to my car while I left Jude to finish his tea. He and Phyllis had moved on to an enthusiastic travel chat by the time I left. It turned out that Jude had toured quite a bit on his bike, and they’d visited many of the same places.