“Yes, I did. There was no one there. The cottage was empty, with a For Sale board on the gate. I hoped the owners might have the address of someone I knew who used to live there. It was a small, private, unimportant matter. I want to send her a Christmas card—as simple as that. It’s got nothing to do with the murder. Mog was cycling past, no doubt to visit his girlfriend for a bit of anything on offer, and I suppose he handed you that titbit of gossip. Some people in this bloody village can’t keep their mouths shut. I’m telling you, it had nothing to do with Rhoda.”

“We’re not suggesting it had, Mr. Boyton. But you were asked for an account of what you did since arriving here. Why leave that out?”

“Because I’d forgotten it. It wasn’t important. Okay, I went to the village pub for lunch and drove around for part of the afternoon. I hadn’t told you but I had to eat. I saw nobody, and nothing happened. I can’t remember every single detail. I’m upset, confused. If you’re going to keep on badgering me, I’ll have to send for a lawyer.”

“You could certainly do that if you think it’s necessary. And if you seriously believe you’re being badgered, no doubt you’ll make a formal complaint. We may wish to question you again, either before you leave or in London. In the meantime I suggest that, if there’s any other fact, however unimportant, that you have omitted to mention, you let us know as soon as possible.”

They rose to go. It was then that Benton remembered that he hadn’t asked about Miss Gradwyn’s will. To have forgotten an instruction from AD would have been a bad mistake. Angry with himself, he spoke almost without thinking.

“You say you were Miss Gradwyn’s dear friend. Did she ever confide in you about her will, hint that you might be a beneficiary? At your last meeting, perhaps. When was that?” “On twenty-first November, at The Ivy. She never mentioned her will. Why should she? Wills are about death. She wasn’t expecting to die. The operation wasn’t life-threatening. Why would we talk about her will? Are you saying you’ve seen it?”

And now, unmistakable under his tone of outrage was the half-shameful curiosity and spark of hope.

Benton said casually, “No, we haven’t seen it. It was just a thought.” Boyton didn’t come to the door, and they left him sitting at the table, head in hands. Closing the garden gate behind them, they set out to return to the Old Police Cottage.

Benton said, “Well, what did you think of him?”