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Max was clearly distressed by the conversation we’d had with Betty and needed time to process what he’d heard. He wasn’t the only one. Nothing she’d said really made sense, and instead of getting some answers, it felt as we’d simply been handed a whole lot of questions.

‘I never expected any of this to lead back to Aunt Polly,’ I said, feeling dazed as we walked back to the teashop. ‘Who’d have believed her story would be intertwined with your grandfather’s?’

‘We don’t know it was,’ he said quickly. ‘There is no evidence of that. Only rumour and gossip from people who nursed their prejudices.’

‘I’m not accusing him of anything,’ I said. ‘But their stories are intertwined because, true or not, my Aunt Polly died, and your grandfather was believed to be guilty of her murder.’

‘What do you think, Shona?’ he asked, giving me a troubled look. ‘Honestly. I appreciate this must be difficult for you, with the murder victim being a distant relative of yours.’

Not as distant as you imagine, mate . ‘Please don’t call her “the murder victim”,’ I said. ‘She has a name.’

‘I’m sorry. That was insensitive of me. Polly. Polly Herron.’ He glanced up as we reached the teashop and frowned. ‘So, this was Deakin’s Teashop once? When did the name change?’

I swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Er, in 1948,’ I said. ‘Sir Edward Davenport changed the name in memory of Aunt Polly.’

We looked at each other. Max frowned.

‘You don’t think…’

‘No, of course not.’ I knew exactly what he’d been going to say. But no, no way! Sir Edward and Aunt Polly? Just no. Surely?

He rubbed his forehead. ‘I should go home. I need to think. I came to this village to ask Rissa what she was doing here, and then her insistence that my grandfather’s final words were just mad ramblings made me determined to prove that someone had harmed him.

Now I find myself involved in an unsolved murder case. ’

‘Why don’t we grab a cup of tea?’ I asked, nodding at the teashop.

He shook his head. ‘I don’t really want to sit in there today. I don’t want people staring at me.’

‘For a start, why would they be staring at you?’ I said, half-laughing. ‘For another thing, I doubt we have many customers in this weather.’ I glanced up at the bleak sky as the rain continued to pour down. ‘I mean, look at it.’

‘I don’t know… It doesn’t feel right, going in there of all places. Not today.’

He sounded so glum that I really didn’t want to leave him like this. Besides, thinking about it, Aunt Polly might be in there. I definitely didn’t want her to overhear our conversation. ‘Well, how about a drink in The Quicken Tree?’

He considered that for a moment. ‘Okay. Maybe a strong coffee would be my best option at this point.’

We headed quickly into the pub, which was so cosy and welcoming that it lifted my spirits immediately, despite my confusion over what we’d heard at Rowan Farm.

After I’d hung up my coat and Max had put his umbrella in the stand by the door, I found us a table while he went to the bar and ordered two coffees. He joined me moments later and glanced around him as he took a seat.

‘Nice room. I like it in here, now it’s quieter.’

‘Yes, it’s surprisingly rowdy on quiz night,’ I agreed. ‘Although usually, it’s pretty busy in here every day, especially at this time of year. It’s just the atrocious weather that’s keeping everyone at home.’

He nodded and I thought we were really skirting around the one issue we both wanted to talk about but didn’t know how. It was bad enough that his grandfather was implicated in such a serious crime. But the fact that the victim was my lovely Aunt Polly made it all so much more complicated.

One of the young bar staff brought our coffees over and informed us that if we’d like to order food, we should just come to the bar or download their app and order from the table. We thanked him politely, but I’d quite lost my appetite, and I had a feeling food was the last thing on Max’s mind.

‘Have you never wondered?’ he asked suddenly, as I poured milk into my coffee.

I dropped in two sugar lumps and stirred. ‘Wondered what?’

‘Who killed your great-aunt, of course! Surely it must have been a source of great anguish to your family over the years? Have you never tried to get the case reopened? You must want justice?’

‘After all this time? It’s hardly likely, is it?’

‘But your parents, your grandparents, they didn’t push the subject? They didn’t demand answers?’

‘I don’t know about my grandparents,’ I said uncomfortably. ‘But I think Dad decided it was best to let sleeping dogs lie.’

‘And you don’t think that strange?’

I thought of Dad’s attitude when he’d realised who Max’s grandfather was and wondered if he suspected Gerhard’s involvement. Did Aunt Polly suspect him too? Had she really seen no one that night or was she lying? And if so, why?

‘You don’t think, perhaps, that they were pressured to keep quiet?’ Max mused.

‘Pressured? By who?’

‘By the one man who had power and influence over their lives, of course. By Sir Edward Davenport.’

I sighed. ‘We don’t even know that he was involved at all,’ I said. ‘Helen Rowland only said she thought she heard his voice that night.’

‘But think about it.’ He leaned forward, his arms folded on the table, his voice eager.

‘Say it was Sir Edward that night at the farm with my grandfather. Say he did force Alfred Rowland to provide a false alibi. Why would he do that? And then he changed the name of Deakin’s Teashop to Mrs Herron’s Teashop in her honour.

And for some reason, your family never pushed for answers.

Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Unless he was in it up to his neck and they knew if they spoke out, they would be unemployed and homeless, just as Alfred would have been if he’d refused to give Grandfather an alibi. ’

‘I really don’t think it was like that,’ I said awkwardly.

How could I tell him that my family had Aunt Polly to consider, and it had been her feelings they’d been thinking about when they didn’t push for answers?

Even so, now that I thought about it logically, why didn’t she want them to?

You’d have thought she’d want to know who killed her.

Unless she already suspected the truth, and it was too painful for her?

Or perhaps she was protecting her family, knowing that if they came close to uncovering Sir Edward’s involvement, they’d be turfed out of Rowan Vale?

I massaged my temples, feeling thoroughly confused.

Dad had always insisted that I didn’t discuss the subject with Aunt Polly, because naturally, she didn’t want to think about those dark days.

I’d always respected that, but I couldn’t help feeling that maybe it was time to push for answers.

If nothing else, to clear Gerhard Janssen. Or condemn him.

‘You have another theory?’ Max asked. He cradled his mug of coffee and looked doubtfully at me. ‘I’d love to hear it if so.’

‘No,’ I admitted. ‘I haven’t a clue what went on that night. It’s all a bit of a mess really.’

‘My grandfather was no killer,’ Max said firmly.

I wondered how to word what I needed to say. I supposed the best thing was to be blunt about it.

‘You don’t really know that, though. Think about it,’ I said hastily, as he opened his mouth to protest. ‘Gerhard had been through a long and bloody war. He’d seen who knows what?

Suffered who knows what? How many people had he killed in conflict?

I’m not blaming him for that,’ I added. ‘They had no choice, whichever side they were on. It was kill or be killed and I get it, honestly. But that might change someone. Make them immune to the horror of killing. And being kept prisoner for so long, even after the war ended and he should have been sent home, who knows how much resentment was building in him?’

‘No,’ Max said stubbornly. ‘My grandfather would never have killed someone in cold blood like that. Wartime was different. As you say, it was kill or be killed. But to shoot a young woman in the back? No. Never.’

‘Even if someone made him do it and then provided an alibi for him?’

The thought had just popped into my head, and I’d spoken it out loud without processing it. But now that it was out there, I couldn’t deny it made sense.

Max evidently thought so, too. ‘You mean, Sir Edward?’

I nodded, almost reluctantly. ‘If Sir Edward wanted Aunt Polly dead, he wouldn’t get his hands dirty, that’s for sure.

He’d have made someone else do the job, and who better than a German PoW?

Someone with no real friends or family in the area.

Someone who’d be going back to Germany very soon anyway.

Someone who would never be believed if he was caught and tried to tell them why he’d done it. ’

‘So he forced my grandfather to kill her then insisted Alfred gave him the false alibi!’

‘But why would Sir Edward want Aunt Polly dead?’

‘Because,’ Max said triumphantly, ‘they were having an affair and something went wrong. Maybe she wanted to end things. Maybe she threatened to tell his wife. Who knows? Whatever the reason, he had to get her out of the way, so he forced my grandfather to shoot her.’

‘All right, Poirot,’ I said. ‘Steady on. If Sir Edward wanted her dead, why name the teashop after her?’

He frowned, tilting his head to think. ‘To throw people off the scent, of course,’ he said at last. ‘People would have been thinking how kind he was, and how much he obviously valued his employee to change the name of the teashop in her memory.’

‘Or maybe he still loved her, and wished he hadn’t had to kill her,’ I said.

He grinned. ‘All right, Miss Marple. You’re beginning to think Sir Edward might be the culprit, aren’t you?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said honestly, ‘but I’m willing to keep an open mind.’

‘At least you haven’t pronounced my grandfather guilty,’ he said, sounding grateful. ‘Given Polly was your family, I thank you for that.’

He reached out and squeezed my hand and my heart thudded.

Even with this mystery on our minds, I couldn’t deny that part of me was just revelling in spending so much time with him.

He was so attractive and something about him pulled me to him.

I couldn’t explain what it was, but I’d felt it from the moment he’d first entered the teashop.

Max smiled at me, his hazel eyes warm and affectionate, and I smiled back, thinking it was a good job he couldn’t tell what was in my mind.

But then his gaze slowly lowered to land on my lips, and the look in his eyes changed subtly, and I felt his grip on my hand tighten as my heart practically bungee jumped in excitement. The air between us felt charged as we moved closer together, as if compelled by a force greater than ourselves.

‘Would you like to see today’s specials?’ The young waiter gave us an embarrassed look as we pulled apart. ‘Er, sorry. I can come back?—’

‘No, no need.’ Max’s voice was brisk, businesslike. ‘We’re not stopping for food. Just a quick coffee and then I must be getting home.’

The waiter nodded and left us to it and Max quickly drained his mug.

I could barely hide my disappointment as he scraped back his chair and got to his feet.

‘You’re going?’ I managed.

‘I have things to do,’ he explained. ‘We may have six weeks’ holiday officially, but in reality, we have much work to get through before term starts again. Thank you for taking me with you to speak to Betty. You’ve given me much to consider.’

‘Yeah, me too,’ I said.

He gave me a brief smile, said goodbye, and left me with a half-empty mug of coffee. I sighed and sat back in my chair. If that waiter hadn’t arrived at the table at that precise moment…

But he had, and he’d brought us both back to earth with a bump.

Judging by Max’s actions, he was extremely grateful for the interruption.

I didn’t hold that against him. I knew he still had issues with the loss of his wife, and this was new to him, and had probably been a shock.

It had been a shock to me, too. I never in a million years thought he’d almost kiss me.

But he had.

He really had!

So close…

But I had to keep my mind clear of all this right now.

I needed to talk to Dad about his aunt’s murder and what had happened afterwards.

And if I couldn’t get any clarity from him, maybe it was finally time to broach the subject with Aunt Polly herself.

I just needed to find a way to be gentle, because the last thing I wanted to do was cause her any pain. She’d been through enough already.