‘What made you think of asking Danny about Iqbal?’

Judith paused, trying to work it out for herself.

‘I don’t know. I think it’s all my years of setting crosswords. You get used to making connections. And once Danny had confirmed that she’d lied to us about knowing Stefan … Now, I think we need to find out a bit more about Liz Curtis, don’t you?’

‘And how can we do that?’

‘Well, I couldn’t help noticing that Danny told us that Liz was a regular churchgoer, in which case, there’s one person I can think of …’

‘Of course!’ Suzie said, realising. ‘Becks.’

Chapter 18

‘What are you doing here?’ Becks blurted as soon as she opened her front door and found Judith and Suzie outside.

‘Pleased to see you as well,’ Suzie said.

‘You can’t come here,’ Becks tried again, desperation in her eyes.

‘You don’t know why we’re here!’

‘I’ve got a very good idea, and you can’t bring your murders to the vicarage, what would Colin say?’

‘Firstly,’ Judith said, drawing herself up to her full but diminutive height, ‘these aren’t “our” murders. And secondly, if we can’t bring them to the vicarage, where can we bring them?’

‘Well, I’m sorry, but I can’t be seen talking about murder.’

‘Why not?’

Becks was affronted, but for reasons she couldn’t quite specify.

‘Why not?’ Judith asked again.

‘Who is it, darling?’ a male voice called out from inside the house.

‘No one,’ Becks called. ‘They’re just going.’

‘We want to know about Liz Curtis,’ Suzie said.

This caught Becks by surprise.

‘What do you want to know about Liz?’

‘Do you know her?’

‘Enough to say hello to after church on a Sunday. Why are you asking?’

‘Because as far as I can see, she could be our killer.’

Becks’ eyes widened in amazement.

‘That’s not possible, she does yoga!’

Judith wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly.

‘Are you saying people who do yoga can’t commit murder?’ she asked.

‘Yes!’

‘Then maybe,’ Judith said, deciding to go in for the kill, ‘you could tell us all about Liz Curtis over a nice cup of tea?’

Becks’ smile froze. As a true-born Englishwoman, she knew there were no circumstances under which she could ever refuse the request of a cup of tea.

‘What a lovely idea,’ she lied, and then invited the women in.

‘Bloody hell,’ Suzie said as she stepped into the house, ‘it’s like an advert!’

Suzie was referring to the tasteful wallpaper, pictures and furniture in the hallway.

‘An advert?’ Becks asked, confused.

‘You know, like you get in magazines. But it’s not real. No one actually lives like this.’

Becks smiled at what she mistook to be a compliment.