‘Just wrong.’ Stephanie gave a deep sigh.
‘The thing is, the police don’t work in the sort of way ordinary people expect. It depends entirely on evidence. They quite often know who’s done a crime, but unless they can prove it, they’re not allowed to arrest them or charge them. It’s fair enough, in theory. Otherwise there’d be scope for all sorts of corruption. Guesswork, or taking revenge on somebody, or just cutting corners and not doing the job properly. Do you see?’
‘But they have to write down everything people tell them, don’t they? Because some of it might turn out to be evidence after all.’
‘That’s exactly right,’ said Thea.
Ant heard them coming and met them at the door, holding Percy by the collar. ‘I’d better put his lead on,’ he said. ‘But I can’t find it for the moment.’
‘We left the car down by the gate, just in case,’ said Thea awkwardly. ‘I mean – in case it’s working again. I wasn’t sure what to expect.’ She faltered a few more apologetic phrases, unpleasantly aware of the antagonism she had aroused only an hour or two earlier.
Ant shrugged it all away and went to look again for the dog lead. Thea followed him into the house, but Stephanie was compelled irresistibly to have another look at the contents of the old wheelbarrow, unsure whether or not she hoped they would have disappeared.
It was all still there. She picked up the strip of copper, which she had at first taken to be wire. In fact it was flatter and wider than that, at least two feet long. She could vividly imagine it being placed across the terminals of the car battery and extended to make contact with the naked skin of the murder victim’s chest. Except of course, he would have to co-operate by keeping still, unless a second person held him down. And the killer would have to wear some sort of protection against receiving a painful shock himself. Gloves, perhaps.
Digby was all of a sudden standing beside her. She met his eyes, still holding the copper. ‘What are you up to, then?’ he asked, in a friendly voice.
She should have been more afraid, she thought afterwards. Instead, she simply said, ‘This reminds me of a lesson we did at school – in physics. There’s everything you need here to give somebody a big electric shock. The sponge in the bucket as well.’
‘What an amazingly clever little girl!’
It was not Digby who spoke, but some other person, standing at the gate between the garden and the drive. The fading light showed only a fair-headed woman. She moved towards them. ‘You’ve met your match, my friend. Foiled by a schoolgirl. How will you abide the humiliation?’
‘Bronya,’ breathed Digby. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Trying to gather the courage to face my deplorable mother and sister, if you really want to know. But first I thought it might be wise to check how things are with you. I never expected to catch you being challenged by a ten-year-old detective.’
‘I’m eleven, not ten,’ said Stephanie. Nothing was making any sense, but that hardly mattered. It was almost unbearably exciting to think she was right at the heart of something crucially important. ‘And I’ve already told the police there’s this battery and things here.’
‘Looks bad for poor Mr Frowse, doesn’t it?’
‘Looks worse for you, ducky,’ Digby snapped back. ‘You’re not going to lay this on me.’
‘What’s going on?’ Thea’s voice came loud and clear from the house. ‘Stephanie? What are you doing?’
Stephanie remembered Drew’s deadline, and wondered how angry he would be when they failed to meet it. Because fail they would. Nobody was going anywhere now.
She didn’t have to say anything. Thea ran down the garden, obviously scared. ‘Who’s this?’ she demanded, staring at Bronya.
‘I could ask you the same thing,’ said the young woman calmly. Stephanie realised that she looked rather like Jessica. The same fleshy shoulders and creamy skin.
‘Everyone’s trying to fit me up as the murderer,’ said Digby, with a little laugh. ‘If that’s the right word. When I can tell you for certain that this lady here is the real criminal. Not that there’s likely to be much proof against either of us.’
They all just stood there, as Ant came slowly to join them, pulling Percy behind him. ‘What’s wrong with his foot?’ Stephanie asked, seeing the dog was limping.
‘He’s been licking it for days,’ said Ant. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything much.’
‘Let’s see,’ said Thea, taking Percy back to the light of the open door. She bent the front leg back to inspect the underside of the foot. The dog whined when she touched it. ‘There’s a nasty big blister on it,’ she reported. ‘It must be really sore.’
Ant joined her, bending over the foot. ‘That’s a burn,’ he pronounced. ‘How on earth could that have happened?’
‘Battery acid perhaps?’ suggested Bronya, with a malicious laugh. ‘How would that be as a piece of evidence?’
‘Absolute nonsense,’ scoffed Digby.
But there was a kind of congealing of the air around them all, which was the only way Stephanie could describe it. Ant dropped the dog’s foot and looked hard at his father. Thea was gazing into the wheelbarrow and at the copper strip still in Stephanie’s hand. Digby and Bronya seemed to form a unit, custodians of some ghastly truth that was leaking out despite their best efforts to contain it.
‘Dad?’ said Ant in a low voice.
‘The police are certain to fit it all together, you know,’ said Thea. ‘Probably thanks to Stephanie.’
‘She certainly is a clever girl,’ said Bronya. ‘Almost as clever as me.’
‘Much cleverer than you, dear,’ said Digby. ‘Your mistake was thinking I had anything to lose. Now Beverley’s given up on me, it hardly matters what comes next. And when it comes to it, you’re even more of a loser than me, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I’m going now,’ was the
