Controlling his irritation at their obvious need for firm instructions, he was about to say, “Just do what you think best,” when he heard Helena’s footsteps. She had come up quietly behind him. And now he heard her voice.

“Pea soup is an excellent idea, hot, nourishing and comforting. As you’ve got the stock, it could be quickly made. Let’s keep the food simple, shall we? We don’t want it to look like a parish harvest festival. Serve the soda bread warm and with plenty of butter. A cheese board would be a good addition to the cold meats—people should have some protein—but don’t overdo it. Make it look appetising, as you always do. No one will be hungry, but they’ll need to eat. And it would be a good idea to put out Kimberley’s excellent home-made lemon curd and apricot jam with the bread. People in shock often crave something sweet. And keep the coffee coming, plenty of coffee.”

Kimberley said, “Will we need to feed the police, Miss Cressett?”

“I shouldn’t think so. No doubt we’ll learn that in time. As you know, Chief Inspector Whetstone won’t be undertaking this investigation now. They’re sending a special squad from the Metropolitan Police. I imagine they’ll have fed on the road. You’re being splendid, both of you, as you always are. Life is likely to be disturbed for all of us for some time, but I know you’ll cope. If you have any questions, come to me.”

Reassured, the Bostocks murmured their thanks. Chandler-Powell and Helena moved out together. He said, trying but without success to inject his voice with warmth, “Thank you. I should have left the Bostocks to you. And what on earth is soda bread?”

“Made with wholemeal flour and without yeast. You’ve eaten it here often enough. You like it.”

“At least we’ve sorted out the next meal. I seem to have spent the morning on trivialities. I wish to God this Commander Dalgliesh and his squad would arrive and get on with the investigation. We’ve got a distinguished forensic pathologist lounging around until Dalgliesh deigns to arrive. Why can’t she get on with her job? And Whetstone’s got something better to do than kicking his heels here.”

Helena said, “And why the Met? The Dorset police are perfectly competent, so why can’t Chief Inspector Whetstone take on the investigation? It makes me wonder whether there might not be something secret and important about Rhoda Gradwyn, something we don’t know.”

“There’s always been something we don’t know about Rhoda Gradwyn.”

They had passed into the front hall. There was the firm closing of car doors, the sound of voices.

Helena said, “You best get to the front door. It sounds as if the squad from the Met has arrived.”

Chapter 6

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