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warn Deirdre we’re coming. Sooner we get down to it the better.”

Eight

    TUESDAY MORNING, TEN o’clock sharp, Deirdre had said, and on the dot Gus and Ivy rang the bell on the heavy, mock-Tudor front door of Tawny Wings. The three investigators of the Enquire Within detective agency, feeling rather nervous but determined not to show it, climbed the broad stairway to a large room overlooking the back garden.
    “Guest room,” explained Deirdre, “but since I don’t have many guests, except on the rare occasions when my daughters arrive from far-flung lands, we can set ourselves up permanently in here. Plenty of other rooms for whoever. Now, who is going to be chair?”
    “What on earth are you talking about, Deirdre,” Ivy said, beginning to bristle at what was clearly Deirdre’s attempt to take over.
    Gus smiled charmingly at the ladies, and said that as he probably had the most experience in the field of detection, perhaps he should take the helm?
    “Hear, hear,” said Ivy quickly. “Anyway, it was all Augustus’s idea, so I vote for him as—ahem—chair.”
    “Exactly what I was about to suggest,” lied Deirdre. “Then, as I have a computer and some secretarial skills, I should probably take on the work of admin, records and all that?”
    Gus nodded.
    “What’s left for me to do, then?” said Ivy crossly.
    “Good heavens, Ivy!” Gus said. “Yours is the most important job of all. You will be the eyes and ears of Enquire Within, looking and listening and making mental notes. We shall meet regularly, and your input will be vital to our investigations. To put it shortly, Ivy, the agency couldn’t operate without you.”
    Ivy knew perfectly well he was exaggerating, but was mollified nevertheless. “Right,” she said. “Then it’s just as well I’m still in possession of all my marbles.”
    Deirdre began to think her own role was diminishing to typist and filing clerk, and said, “Still, Ivy, you’ll need transport, and I shall be very happy to take you wherever you want to go. We shall be a good team!”
    Ivy gave her a look to quell the bravest upstart, and said wasn’t it time they got down to business and opened the investigation into the murder of Mrs. Winifred Blake.
    “Just one snag,” Gus said apologetically. “Nobody’s asked us to, so no client. No client, no fee.”
    “Ah,” said Deirdre, “I think I may have a solution to that one.”
    “Excellent!” said Gus. “Solutions are our business!”
    “Calm down, young man,” Ivy said, and added that she would like to hear Deirdre’s solution to this particular problem.
    “The Hon. Theo, he’s going to be our first client, though he doesn’t know it yet,” said Deirdre triumphantly. “A murder in a property lowers its value immediately. And nobody’s going to pay a wicked rent to live in a glorified hovel haunted by an evil old woman.”
    “Spot on, Deirdre!” Gus laughed. “My little cottage is not far from a hovel with a few bodged improvements. You are right about the wicked rent, too. And how are you going to approach the village squire?”
    Deirdre tapped the side of her nose with a manicured forefinger in time-honoured fashion, indicating conspiracy. “Leave it to me,” she said. “Theo Roussel and I go back a long way. . . .”
    “Steady on, Deirdre,” Ivy said caustically. She looked at Gus and said, “And what do you say to that, Chair?”
    Gus sat back and folded his arms. “First, I would like to stress that it will be vital that we trust each other. If one of us has a hunch and does not wish to talk about it until some following up has been done, fine. So, second, I would say good luck to Deirdre. But I propose we have weekly meetings, when we bring each other up to date on progress. Now, how do you feel about working on more than one case at once?”
    “One’s plenty,” Ivy said, “and three brains are better than one. I propose to start by talking to that awful Beattie woman. There’s nothing