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and panties.’

‘All the Tinworthy ladies bought their knickers from us, didn’t they, Violet?’

‘Oh yes, we couldn’t sell enough of those panties, the ones with the lace tops.’

‘And the cotton gussets,’ added Daisy.

‘It’s a boutique now,’ Violet said sadly. ‘They sell those silly crop-tops, or whatever you call them, and mini-skirts. Tiny mini-skirts.’

‘Pussy pelmets,’ Daisy confirmed. ‘That’s what they call them.’

‘Well, this has been most interesting,’ Kate said, turning towards the door, ‘but I really must go. Thank you so much for the tea and the chat.’

At this Jasper, awakened from his slumbers, leaped onto the floor and resumed barking.

‘Naughty boy!’ scolded Daisy. She turned to Kate. ‘It’s lovely to have a visitor.’ She appeared to have made a rapid recovery as they both accompanied Kate to the door. As they opened it and Kate went out, Violet said, sotto voce, ‘We think poor dear Edina might have been poisoned.’

‘Really?’ Kate asked. ‘Why do you think that?’

‘Well, we reckon it was that stepson of hers who did it. He was always visiting her and asking for money, wasn’t he, Daisy? Apparently, his business wasn’t doing too well.’

‘And she wouldn’t give it to him, would she? We know because we could hear them rowing when we were out in the garden, couldn’t we, Violet?’

‘Yes, well, the nurse doesn’t really need to know that,’ Violet said hurriedly.

Kate, stepping out into the hall, said, ‘Bye, ladies, and do get in touch if the tummy continues to bother you, Daisy.’

‘Oh I shall,’ said Daisy, grabbing the pug by the collar, and both ladies waved as Kate headed for the front door.

Eight

When Kate arrived at the door she almost collided with a small, bald, bespectacled man carrying a large package.

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘do you live here?’

‘No,’ Kate replied, ‘just visiting.’

‘Well,’ he said, edging past her and depositing the package on the hall table between the two serpentine carvings, ‘that’s the Reverend fed for the week.’

Kate looked out at the little green van parked by the main gate. It had lines of daisies painted along the side, above which was written ‘Fresh-as-a-Daisy! Fernfield Farm Foods!’

Then, as he turned back towards the front door he said, ‘Goodness only knows how long it’ll be before it gets collected.’ He glanced back at the table. ‘They’re chilled and they’re supposed to be put straight in the fridge or the freezer, you know, but I’m not allowed to deliver to the individual flats. I come at the same time on the same day every week so they should know that by now.’

Kate walked back towards the table. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, ‘I know the Reverend so I’ll take these up to him. As a matter of interest did you used to bring meals for Edina Martinelli?’

The little man stopped at the door. ‘Yeah, of course I did, and sometimes they’d sit on that table for ages. I happen to know that because I delivered the wrong ones once and, when I came back a couple of hours later, there they were, still sitting on the table where I’d left them!’

‘How interesting!’ Kate said truthfully, her mind full of new possibilities. No, no, she thought to herself, that’s ridiculous! You’re clutching at straws, Kate Palmer!

‘You should try them,’ he went on. ‘They’d be right handy for a working lady like yourself.’ With that he headed towards his daisy-dappled van.

‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she called after him as he waved and drove off.

Kate studied the package which consisted of seven ready meals, one on top of the other, in plastic containers, each covered in clingfilm, and finished off with a slide-over cardboard sleeve with a picture of the contents. She could only see cottage pie sitting on the top, and wondered if the vicar might have been so bold as to order anything more exotic such as lasagne or moussaka, perhaps.

As she was about to pick it up an anxious little voice called out, ‘Everything all right?’

Sharon was coming down the stairs brandishing a mop and a pail.

‘Oh yes,’ explained Kate. ‘I was visiting the Potters and, as I was leaving, bumped into the chap who delivers the ready meals. These are for Edgar Ellis so I thought I’d take them up to him, since I’m told that these meals can sit there on the table for ages.’

‘You’re right,’ Sharon said. ‘I’ve often gone home by the time he comes and these folks are never in a hurry to pick up their mail or parcels. When I am here I deliver them myself. Anyway, I’ll take these up to the vicar.’

Kate hesitated. ‘Sharon, I don’t suppose I could have a quick peek inside Edina Martinelli’s flat for a brief moment? I’ve got a feeling I may have left a thermometer in there when I visited her just before she died. I can’t find it anywhere.’

‘I’m not really supposed to let anyone in,’ Sharon said, chewing her lip, ‘but I suppose it’s all right, you being a nurse and all… I did give the place a tidy-up but I didn’t see it.’

‘It’s quite small,’ Kate said, ‘so you could easily have overlooked it. I’d just like to make sure I didn’t leave it in her bedroom.’

Sharon thought for a moment. ‘Well, I suppose there’s no harm,’ she said. ‘I’ll open the door for you and you can let yourself out because the door locks automatically. I’d come in with you but I’ll give this lot to the Rev and then I’m going home for my tea.’

‘That’s very kind, Sharon. I shan’t take long.’

Sharon laid down the mop and pail and, digging the bunch of keys out from her apron pocket, picked up the box of meals and headed back upstairs again. Kate followed behind.

It’s only a hunch, of course, but it’s worth a try.

As Sharon unlocked the door she said, ‘David Courtney’s the only one who’s been in there apart from me. I think he needed to get some of her papers or something. But I ain’t touched anything.’

‘Thanks so much,’ Kate

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