‘One more thing.’ Rosalind reached out and rested a hand on his arm. He looked up at her, and she could see his patience waning in his eyes. ‘Just tell me … Clementine. You said she’d been hit on the head, like Caro, before she went into the water. How much before?’

His jaw tightened, and she could sense his reluctance to share the information.

‘Your team out there were already cordoning off the ground either side of the river all the way upstream before you even arrived,’ she pressed. ‘So you don’t think she was killed where I found her, do you?’

Frustration flared across his face but she could tell he was going to answer her all the same. Maybe he hoped that by confirming what she’d already figured out, he’d persuade her to tell him anything she knew. Or perhaps he thought she was befriending him because she was responsible, somehow.

Either way, after a long moment he said, ‘Our guy thinks she was already dead by Saturday evening. Looks like she’d been in the water over twenty-four hours. There’s no obvious sign of blood other than a few drops of your friend’s at the Gate House, or of any other struggle, so odds are good she was killed somewhere else, then moved at night, perhaps, when the coast was clear.’

‘Except we were all up for hours that night, too,’ Rosalind replied. ‘Because Marcus …’

‘Died here that night too. Yes. We’re hoping for some more information about that soon.’ Larch stepped away, and Rosalind’s hand fell to her side. ‘I’m afraid your convention is over, though.’

‘You’ll let me know if you find anything?’ Rosalind said, coolly.

‘Not unless I think you did it,’ Larch replied, before striding off towards the front door, where he was intercepted by Isobel.

Rosalind watched him go. That could have gone worse. Even if she might now be more of a suspect than she was before.

She was already dead by Saturday evening.

Before Marcus was poisoned. That had to mean something.

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Sometimes, Johnnie, we need to move backwards to move forwards,’ Dahlia said, looking uncharacteristically reflective. ‘Sometimes, the answers we’re looking for lie in things we’ve already done, or seen.’

Dahlia Lively in Poisoner’s Delight

By Lettice Davenport, 1986

By the time they were all done, the sun was almost up over the horizon. Rosalind and Posy followed Caro to her room, but Rosalind turned around and headed back into the corridor. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Grab what you need – half your stuff is in my room anyway. And it doesn’t have head injury aggravating wallpaper,’ she added, before Posy could offer up her own room.