‘Plus she was engaged to the lord of the manor, back in the day. What?’ Caro asked as Rosalind gave her a sharp look. ‘It’s hardly a secret now, is it? Practically common knowledge. They met on the set of the original movie, you see,’ she said to Posy. ‘Love at first sight, they say.’

‘If it had been love, we’d have married.’ Rosalind’s tone was dry. ‘As it was, we remained good friends for the last forty years, and that has served us both far better. And we’re not here to talk about ancient history now, are we?’

‘I suppose not.’ Caro sounded moderately regretful about that as she took her drink. ‘So, what are we here to talk about?’

‘When I got back to my room this afternoon, after the film panel, someone had put the missing magnifying glass on my dressing table,’ Posy said.

Caro and Rosalind were trained actresses, used to reacting to the unexpected as if they meant it to happen all along. Caro raised her eyebrows a little, and Rosalind took another sip of her gin cocktail.

‘Interesting,’ Caro said. ‘Any note?’

Posy nodded, and pulled it from her bag to show to them. ‘Not my Dahlia. In block capitals.’

‘No way to tell if it’s the same handwriting as the first note, then,’ Rosalind guessed.

Posy gave another, glum nod. ‘I think someone is trying to frame me.’

‘Then we need to find out who put it there,’ Caro said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. A warm feeling settled over Posy at the idea of not having to do this alone. But then the realities settled in.

‘How?’ Posy asked. ‘I didn’t exactly bring a fingerprint kit with me, you know.’

‘We don’t need it,’ Rosalind said, sanguinely. ‘Dahlia never had any of that stuff – no forensics, no DNA, not even fingerprints usually. She used her brain, and her knowledge of people. We can do the same.’

‘There’s more.’ Posy pulled the script from her bag. ‘I found this in Clementine’s room.’

‘You searched her room?’ Caro looked impressed. ‘You really are taking this Dahlia thing seriously.’

‘I was looking for my phone,’ Posy admitted. ‘She told me to find her and get it back this afternoon. But look at the script. It’s missing the same pages we were sent.’

‘Another indication that Clementine sent the notes herself.’ Rosalind took the script and ran a finger down the torn edge of the missing pages.

‘Oh! And I compared the handwriting on the notes we received to Clementine’s on her clipboard, and it was a match.’

‘You have been busy,’ Caro murmured.