There wasn’t room for three around the bistro table, let alone four, but it wasn’t as if there were much of Juliette anyway. She had the tiny waist and waiflike physique of a naturally slender nineteen-year-old, which was basically cheating. The great injustice of life, Caro thought; you never appreciated the body you had until you were too old to have it anymore. Of course, Caro suspected Rosalind, at sixty-odd, would say the same about her at forty.

‘What’s up?’ Juliette asked. ‘If you’re looking for my grandmother, I think she’s locked herself in her room. Granddad filled me in on what happened after dessert. Apparently it was ‘traumatic’ for her, even though she never even liked Marcus.’

‘Still, watching someone die is never pleasant,’ Rosalind said.

Juliette gave a careless shrug. ‘I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there. First interesting thing to happen at Aldermere in decades, and I missed it. Typical.’

‘That’s right. You went to call your boyfriend.’ Posy looked thoughtful. Caro suspected she was adjusting her mental image of who was where when to reflect Juliette’s absence. Caro would have to get her to write it all down later; she was rubbish at holding that sort of thing in her head.

That was what Dahlia had sidekicks for – whether it was Detective Inspector Johnnie Swain, or her maid Bess in the earliest stories. They held onto the details, Dahlia was responsible for the flashes of brilliance and insight.

‘The thing is, with Marcus dead and Clementine not returned from wherever she drove off to yesterday, the poor convention staff are at a loss. They need a leader,’ Caro announced. ‘Someone to guide them through this difficult time.’

‘And you want me to do it?’ Juliette asked, brightening. ‘Of course! I’ve been asking Granddad to let me do more around here, with the estate, but he still thinks I’m about twelve and doesn’t trust me with anything.’

‘Then this could be your chance to show him,’ Rosalind said, fondly.

‘I can definitely do that.’ Juliette hopped up again.

‘Your first job is to get in touch with Clementine, since you have the privilege of still having a phone.’ She turned to Rosalind and Posy. ‘You know, we really should see about getting ours back.’

‘I’ll ask Hugh,’ Rosalind promised.

‘What do you want me to say to her?’ Juliette asked.

‘Tell her to get back here,’ Caro replied. ‘The convention needs her. We can break the news about Marcus when she arrives.’ And ask her some questions about those incriminating photos, too. Or if she might have found time to sneak back and poison her boss.

Whatever else had happened, Clementine was still their number one suspect, and Caro wanted her close enough to question.

Juliette nodded. ‘I’ll get the number from one of the volunteers. What else?’