“The police have to establish a timeline. And they’ll need to know where everybody was and when. If you can pinpoint both Jeremy and Pamela out in the garden at a certain time, then we know that Pamela would have been killed after that.”
“I hadn’t thought. Well, I don’t really know. I smelled the cigarette smoke. Horrible. I can’t bear it. I knew it was one of those boys, and I was going to tell them to go smoke somewhere else. But when I looked out, it was Jeremy, and, well, it looked like he was having a rather intense conversation with that girl.”
“Any idea what it was about?”
“I didn’t watch them for very long, but I would have said they were having some kind of an argument.”
“What exactly did you see?”
I didn’t think that Shannon Briggs would ever be a star witness in a trial. She said, “Well, I don’t really know. As I said, I smelled smoke, and I looked out the window. And there was Jeremy and he was smoking. That’s how I smelt the smoke, of course.”
“Right. And was Pamela with him then?”
“Oh, no. I saw her come out of the side door and run across the lawn to join him. She took his cigarette out of his mouth and began to smoke it herself.”
Gross. “You mean like a sexy gesture?”
“Perhaps she meant it that way, but he just looked annoyed and dug himself out another cigarette and lit it. Then the two of them stood there smoking, and I heard their voices. Low and, I would have said, angry.”
Thanks to William’s timer and clock, we had a pretty accurate timeline. I had served that beef at eight thirty-five, and Jeremy was missing. They’d told me he’d gone out for a cigarette. Had Pamela still been there then? Had she overheard it? I thought perhaps she had. So she’d followed him out. Just for a cigarette? Or was there more? I felt like we needed to find out a lot more about Jeremy Pantages. And who better than the housekeeper, who clearly knew Alex’s friends.
“Have you known the boys for a long time?”
“Oh, bless you, yes.” Now that she was settled with her knitting, I could see that it was helping her talk more easily. I might not love knitting for a whole lot of reasons, but one thing I did notice was women who sat together knitting tended to chat. And while the front of her mind was busy counting stitches and making sure she was following her pattern correctly, another part of her brain was free to make small talk. At least it would seem small to her, but I hoped to glean some very good information from her.
“And how long have you known Jeremy?”
“It must be ten years. Well, the boys went to Eton together. He used to come over sometimes in the school holidays. Although, lately they haven’t been so close. Mind you, the boys are all so busy at college. A very clever lot they are. They’ll be running this country one day, you know.”
Horrifying thought. “Which of them went inside first?”
She glanced up from her knitting. “I beg your pardon?”
“When they were smoking? Which of them went inside the house first? Was it Jeremy or Pamela?”
“Well, I didn’t stand there watching them, did I?”
“So you didn’t see them go inside.”
“No. But I did glance out a little later and…yes, Pamela was going back inside that side door.”
“Did Jeremy follow her?”
“No. He stood watching her. He had a funny look on his face.”
“Funny look on his face? Like what? Angry? Sad?”
“Confused. I would say he looked confused.”
We knitted on for a few more minutes. I suddenly realized that I had done something horribly wrong, and I didn’t know what. I made a sound of frustration, not uncommon when I’m knitting. Mrs. Briggs looked up. “What is it, dear?”
“I don’t know what I’ve done.” I pushed my knitting toward her, the whole, irritating mess of it.
“Well, I think you’ve been purling when you should have been knitting.” She glanced at the pattern on the table, then up at me. “It’s meant to be garter stitch, love. You knit all the rows, no purling. A bit of a beginner mistake.” She laughed merrily. “And you running a knitting shop.”
Ha ha ha. I tried to laugh at myself, but really, I’d just added one more person in the world who found my knitting a source of amusement.
It took her all of about forty-five seconds to undo what I’d done and get me back to the beginning.
I took my knitting back and thought maybe instead of trying to solve a mystery while two Oxford detectives were on the scene, I might try my hand at my actual job and get better at knitting.
I’d done about six more stitches and managed not to drop one of them, which I was very proud of, when Detective Inspector Ian Chisholm came into the kitchen.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, ladies, but I’d like to speak with all the guests before interviewing you, Lucy. Can you hang on for an hour or so?”
I knew he was being polite when obviously we couldn’t leave until they were finished with us. It was already getting late, and we had to open the shop tomorrow. Since Violet was also my shop assistant, it looked like one of us would be opening the shop with not very much sleep under our belts. I suspected that would be me, since I lived right above it. But of course I said, no, that was fine. And then I said, “You’ll want to ask Mrs. Briggs a few questions too. She lives in the flat above the garage. She may have been one of the last people to see Pamela alive.”
The woman beside me dropped her knitting into her lap. “Really? You think I could have been one of the last people to see that
