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At exactly nine o’clock in the morning – the time her mother had drummed into her was the earliest time one might politely phone another person, outside of an emergency – Julia phoned DC Walter Farmer to tell him what she’d heard about Bethany’s whereabouts on the night of Roger’s death. She had thought, for a while, about whether she would be better off phoning Walter or Hayley Gibson, his superior officer. After due consideration, she’d decided that the information she had was Walter-level. Besides, Hayley was stressed and grumpy, and likely in no mood for unsolicited phone calls. Thirdly, Julia had to admit, she was motivated by the knowledge that Walter was less cagey than Hayley. She would be more likely to hear something about the investigation from him than from her.

Walter seemed pleased to hear from Julia and grateful for her information about Bethany.

‘At the Swan, you say? What time?’

‘She was there from sometime in the afternoon – you can check with Kevin for more exact timing – until Jono and his friend drove her home at about ten or ten thirty. ’

‘And she was, um, incapacitated?’

‘Could barely walk, apparently. They helped her into her bedroom and onto the bed. From what they say, there’s no way she went out again.’

‘Right, well, I’ll chat to Jono, but that seems fairly conclusive. Thanks, Julia. You’ve saved us some footwork.’

‘Walter?’

‘Yes?’

‘Do you know what time Roger Grave died?’

There was a pause on the other end of the line, while Walter weighed up how much and what information to divulge. Julia could almost hear his brain clunking around in his skull on the other end of the phone. On the one hand, this was confidential police information, which he shouldn’t, by rights, share with a civilian. On the other hand, Julia had been forthcoming with her own information, which created a bit of an obligation.

After some moments, Walter found a way through the conundrum. He answered: ‘Let’s just say that if your information is correct, Bethany could not have killed her father.’

‘Well, I have done my bit for justice this morning,’ Julia told Jake and Chaplin, who were regarding her with fascination and admiration. Granted, what they were fascinated by and admiring of was her ability to work the can opener or the biscuit tin and produce food at any time of the day or night. Truly, opposable thumbs were a miraculous invention. ‘It seems Bethany is no longer a suspect. Poor girl.’

The pets’ admiration was tinged with impatience.

‘All right, here you go,’ she said, clattering nuggets into Chaplin’s bowl on the counter.

She opened the kitchen door to the garden. ‘Now your turn, Jake.’

He needed no invitation. He shot out of the house like a bullet from a gun. Bad analogy under the circumstances, she scolded herself. He ran out of there like a chubby four-legged Usain Bolt. Julia had to tip the tin to scrape out a scoop of the last remaining dog biscuits. She poured them into his bowl, while he jumped around her feet excitedly.

Watching the pets crunch their way through their respective breakfasts, she made a mental note to buy more dog food before the weekend. Knowing that a mental note had about a fifty-fifty chance of remaining in her brain long enough to be actioned, she made another mental note to write down the contents of the first mental note when she went inside. She’d probably forget that one, too. Unless she made another mental note…And another…

She went inside and wrote ‘dog food’ on the list on the little pad she kept attached to the fridge with a magnet. Her mind went straight to the investigation into Roger Grave’s death. Bethany had made some kind of mad sense as a suspect – if she thought her father had killed Graham, she might have been sufficiently enraged to have hit him with that book, or even thrown it at him, causing him to fall and hit his head. But if Bethany hadn’t killed Roger, who had? With Bethany crossed off the list, the field of suspects might have been narrowed down, but who else was left? And more to the point – why had someone killed him? The matter was no closer to resolution, from what Julia could see. Roger Grave’s death was a mystery.

Musing on the investigation into Roger’s death, Julia realised she’d not heard anything more about the investigation into Graham’s death. As Hayley had said at the time, someone was responsible for that bullet being in that gun. Either deliberately, or by oversight, someone was responsible for Graham’s death. Had it been Roger?Despite what Walter had suggested about Roger’s death being connected to a case he was working on, Julia was sure of one thing – when another body turns up days after a murder, you could put money on the two deaths being connected. What did Graham and Roger have in common, other than Bethany? Well, the play, of course. Julia got the funny prickly feeling she so often experienced when her brain was busy working something out, to get to a realisation, or dredge up a piece of information, or when she intuited that something was wrong.

The play. They’d both been involved in A Night to Remember . Graham as an actor, and Roger as director. Could there be something about the play that had led to their deaths? The prickly feeling intensified, and with it came a feeling of dread. It had been agreed by the group that the play would no longer happen, and Tabitha had let the festival organisers know. But could the other actors still be in danger?

Julia still had the pad and the stubby little pencil in her hand. She tore off the sheet with the words ‘dog food’ on it, and started to write names on the sheet below.

Dylan

Gina

Graham

Nicky

Oscar

Guy

It wasn’t a long list. What about the other people involved? The ones who weren’t actors? She left a space and wrote:

Hector

Roger

She thought for a minute, and added, feeling queasy at the thought:

Tabitha

And then:

Julia

Julia looked at her own name and felt that surely she was overreacting. She was completely on the wrong track. Chaplin jumped onto her lap, causing her to levitate an inch or two off the kitchen chair. ‘I’ve let my imagination run away with me. No one from the cast is in danger,’ she said to the cat, stroking his silky back while he settled himself down. He closed his eyes, letting it be known that he was only there for warmth, not conversation. She had none of his relaxed attitude to the matters of the day. The prickle was still there.

Julia’s mind was churning – thinking about all she had learnt, and trying to tie it up into a logical theory about what could have happened. But she just couldn’t make sense of it – and was quite relieved when the beeps of incoming messages on her phone disturbed her thoughts.

The first beep must have been the formation of a new group, and the second was Walter Farmer putting a message on the group that he had just created for the Cotswolds Players, instructing them all to report to the police station the next morning. Walter had rather cleverly made the group broadcast only, so nobody could comment on his request.

But that didn’t stop the speculation starting on the main Cotswolds Players group.

What do you think he wants? asked Nicky.

Maybe we’re going to the festival after all , suggested Hector.

Don’t be utterly ridiculous , said Gina, who didn’t usually get involved in these exchanges. Two men have died, is that not enough for you?

The messages volleyed back and forth, and Julia sighed. There was nothing that any of them could do but wait and see what the police had to say. Maybe they just wanted to ask a few more questions, with everyone there. But what more could the Cotswolds Players add to what they had already told the police?

As it turned out, there was a lot still to say.