‘Why do you always have to make such a production out of it?’ Johnnie handed her his cigarette as he leaned against the car, watching their suspects file into the country house one by one, following Dahlia’s summons. ‘This whole “I’ve gathered you all here today” thing. Can’t we just go and arrest the culprit and let the others get on with their lives?’

Dahlia, perched elegantly on the bonnet, took a long drag on the cigarette. ‘That would never do. People expect a grand finale from Dahlia Lively. And besides, this isn’t just for me. It’s for all of them.’

‘How do you mean?’ Johnnie asked.

‘Well … I suppose it’s …’ Dahlia frowned, searching for the right word. ‘I think it’s cathartic for them. They’ve all lived under suspicion for days, weeks, longer. They’ve all had every secret of their lives exposed. They’ve lost trust in their friends, their family. They might even have started to question themselves. It’s only fair that they get a moment, a real ending, to close the book on that. To name the villain and watch them submit to justice. That’s what allows them to move on with their lives.’

Dahlia Lively in A Lively Mystery for Dahlia

By Lettice Davenport, 1978

Posy

It was a plan worthy of Dahlia Lively – or possibly stolen from her.

Posy’s heart had been hammering as she’d eased her way up the staircase to Lettice’s study. The stairs were drenched in darkness, and she didn’t want to advertise her arrival, so she’d made sure to stand on the edges of the steps, so they didn’t creak. Rosalind had been firm on that.

She’d found the study itself in darkness, too, but that was part of the plan, so Posy hadn’t turned on a light. The moonlight through the window was enough to illuminate the shelves, the desk, and the armchair in the corner.

But now, alone in that blackness, tucked behind the long curtains covering the last window, she wished she had more light, something to make the night less oppressive. The phone in her pocket had a torch setting, but she couldn’t risk it. Any moment now, people were going to start arriving. Hopefully, one person first of all. And she had to be able to see them without them seeing her …

Outside, Posy heard the clocktower chime midnight, a few minutes late, as usual.

‘We need to find a reason to get our suspects together, where we can pin them down,’ Rosalind had said.

‘Oh, that’s easy,’ Caro had replied. ‘We do a classic Dahlia – you know, an “I’ve gathered you all here today” thing. When she makes everyone think she’s accusing them, before turning on the actual culprit at the last moment.’