Dahlia had always said – well, she supposed Lettice had said it, really, through Dahlia, but the point stood. She’d said that she learned more about people by observing them with others than in a hundred interrogations. Caro had never bought that, because in truth, it was always the interrogations that got her the information to solve the crime. But it was generally a good way to get people to leave her alone and let her be nosy in peace, which seemed more a Lettice trait than a Dahlia one, from what she’d learned of the author from documentaries and such.

Sitting at the dining table, watching her suspects as they tucked into their lamb and dauphinoise potatoes, Caro could see Dahlia’s point.

Everyone around the table had secrets and fear in their eyes. Probably most of them had nothing to do with murdering Marcus, and everything to do with their own little lives, their own little lies.

Isobel held court at the furthest end of the large, rectangular table, closest to the doors that led to the inner hall and the kitchen stairs. Hugh, returned from wherever he’d disappeared to earlier, appeared happily ensconced at the other end, in conversation with Posy and Anton, although the director was looking less comfortable than his host. Hugh also appeared oblivious to the worried looks that Rosalind was sending him from several seats away.

Did Rosalind think her lover was involved in the murder? Caro couldn’t rule it out. In her head, the three Dahlias were a team, but did Rosalind and Posy feel the same way? Or were they playing along for their own reasons, to keep their own secrets? How was Caro supposed to know?

Outside, there was another crash of thunder, and Caro wished that she’d thought to bring an umbrella for tonight’s adventure. One could never trust an English summer.

‘Say, Hugh, did I see that your car was back in its spot in the stables this afternoon?’ Harry asked, along the table.

‘The one Clementine borrowed?’ Libby asked.

Kit gave a low whistle. ‘That is one beautiful car. Any chance I can borrow it next?’

‘Yes, well,’ Hugh said, with an awkward chuckle. ‘I, uh, picked it up from the station earlier today, as it happens. ‘Clementine let me know she’d left it there, when she went to visit her family.’

‘Did you speak to her?’ Posy asked, a little overeager, in Caro’s opinion.

‘Oh, uh, no. She sent me a text message,’ Hugh said. ‘Anyway, it was such a lovely day, I walked down to collect it.’ Another crash of thunder punctuated his words, and he laughed, sounding uncomfortable. ‘Well, it was a lovely day, anyway.’

‘Whenever I’ve tried to call her, her phone’s been off,’ Juliette grumbled. ‘And I have so many questions about what Marcus had planned for the grand finale tomorrow.’