She sighed: ‘Luke Molloy.’

‘Thank you.’

The name didn’t ring any bells with him. He scribbled it quickly on the envelope and pushed it into his pocket.

‘Now what were those questions you wanted to ask me?’ she said impatiently.

‘Yes. The afternoon Mrs Prophet was murdered, where were you?’

‘That was Monday, wasn’t it? I was here. I told you. That’s the day I have for doing my shopping and that. I don’t go to the Prophets’ on Mondays.’

‘But specifically, Margaret, did you go to the Prophets’ house last Monday?’

‘No.’

‘Do you do Mrs Prophet’s shopping?’

‘Some of it, yes.’

‘And did she ask you to do some shopping for her on Monday? I know you did some shopping because you bought some oranges from the man on the market.’

‘I told you, I didn’t see her on Monday.’

‘Well, she could have phoned you or left a message or asked you earlier.’

‘Well, she could have, but she didn’t.’

‘You see, Margaret, there was some shopping left in the doorway of Prophet’s pantry.’

She shrugged.

‘And some money, £6.56,’ Angel said. ‘Could have been change from the shopping, left on the draining board in the kitchen?’

‘Could have been done by Mrs Duplessis, next door. She shopped for her sometimes. In fact, she was always dropping in. Pain in the backside, she was.’

Angel nodded. That might be true.

‘But you had shopped for Mrs Prophet in the past, hadn’t you?’

‘Yes. Regular. At least once a week. Usually a Wednesday.’

‘Ah,’ he said enthusiastically, ‘now where would you have left the shopping and the change in the event of Mrs Prophet being out when you returned?’

‘Alicia was never out. She never went out. It would have driven me bats. She didn’t want to go out. What would have been the point? She couldn’t see anything.’

‘Well, humour me,’ he said.

She shrugged. ‘If Alicia had been out, the house would have been locked up. I would have had to have brought her shopping here. And, before you ask, I wouldn’t have been able to get into Alicia’s, because I haven’t got a key!’

Angel wrinkled his nose and rubbed his chin.

Her raised voice in answering the question might have disturbed Carl. There was a slight noise from the cot. It sounded as if he was waking up and wasn’t too pleased about it. She leaped up from the sofa, flashing the long legs and stabbing her feet into the rabbit slippers.

‘He’s waking up.’

Angel looked across at mother leaning over the cot and baby Carl, whose bottom lip was turned down and his face creased. There was a second’s delay then a loud cry began the most woeful time of howling.

Margaret picked him up. ‘Aaaah. There’s my beautiful little boy,’ she said. ‘There, now. There. There.’

She jiggled him in her arms but the crying continued.

‘He wants some juice, Michael. He’s teething.’

Angel put out his arms. ‘Give him to me. He’ll be all right with me, won’t you Carl? I’ll hold him. Go and get some him some juice, Margaret.’

Carl’s eyes focused on Angel. He looked willing to go to him.

‘Come on, Carl,’ Angel said warmly. ‘Come on, big boy.’

He held out his arms and Margaret handed him across. ‘He’ll mucky up your suit,’ she warned.

‘No matter. It’ll clean. There we are,’ Angel said, nestling him on his knee.

Magically, the crying stopped.

Margaret grinned at the big man holding the baby so close to him and began to tickle his nose with a finger.

‘Won’t be a minute,’ she said.

‘No rush,’ Angel said. ‘We’re all right, aren’t we, Carl? We can get along a treat, can’t we? Yes we can. Yes we can. Cutgee, cutgee, cutgee coo. Cutgee, cutgee, cutgee coo….’

Margaret smiled and disappeared into the kitchen.

The toddler’s mouth was very moist.

Angel looked round for a tissue. There were none to hand, so took a new handkerchief out of his breast pocket, shook it open and wiped Carl’s lips dry. However, there was more dribble, a lot more. Carl dribbled mightily into it. Angel folded it, wiped the little boy’s lips dry again, folded it over again and pushed it back into his breast pocket.

Margaret came back in with a plastic feeding cup.

Carl looked up at her with the cup and lifted up his arms. That was what he needed. She gave him the cup, he took it eagerly, then she lifted him off Angel’s knee.

Angel was reluctant to have Carl taken from him. He smiled as he looked down at the little lad on his mother’s knee, noisily sucking at the juice.

Angel walked up the path, pressed the illuminated bell push on the door surround, stood back and waited.

The door was opened after a short delay, by the lady of the house, who peered at him cautiously. ‘Yes?’ she said adjusting her spectacles.

‘Good afternoon, Mrs Duplessis,’ Angel said. ‘Could I have a word?’

‘Oh, it’s Inspector Angel,’ she said, looking relieved. ‘Why, of course. Of course. Please come in,’ she replied.

She conducted him to her sitting-room.

‘Just a couple of things I need to clear up.’

‘Yes. Yes. Anything I can do to help.’

‘I understand that from time to time, you did some shopping for Mrs Prophet?’

‘Yes. Well, I would have done anything to help her. Poor woman.’

‘Well, last Monday, the day of the murder … did you do any shopping for her or Mr Prophet?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I remember in the morning asking if she needed anything, but she said that Margaret was bringing in some bits and would drop them in on her way back from the shops.’

Angel frowned. ‘You see, there was unpacked shopping in two bags on the floor in the pantry and some money, presumably change, on the draining board.’

‘That would have been Margaret. Though I’m surprised she didn’t put the shopping away. Mrs Prophet could have tripped over it. She knew not to leave stuff lying around on the floor.’

Angel’s face dropped. He didn’t like the answer. ‘And the money on the draining board?’

‘That was the arranged place to leave money or keys or anything like that.’

‘But Margaret didn’t work for the Prophets on Mondays.’

‘That’s right, but Mrs Prophet knew that Margaret did her own shopping on Mondays and sometimes asked her to drop a few things in. After all, she has to pass the back gate from town up to Mansion Hill. It wasn’t out of her way.’

‘She would use the back door then? Hmm. So if she had come in to the Prophets’ house, you wouldn’t have seen her?’

‘No, I didn’t see her. I wouldn’t from my house. She would simply go through the gate, up the path, knock on the door, open it, call out and go in. That was the usual routine. It was the most considerate way, really, with Alicia being blind.’

‘Hmm.’

‘I might add that Lady Blessington simply walked straight in when she came visiting. She never, ever knocked.’

Angel blinked. ‘Really? Hmmm. The thing is, Mrs Duplessis, about Margaret Gaston, she says she didn’t call at the house on Monday, the day of the murder. She’s quite adamant about it.’

Mrs Duplessis sighed, shook her head and said, ‘Frankly, Inspector, she must be … mistaken.’

‘You mean she lying?’

‘I didn’t want to be so … confrontational, Inspector, but I can’t think of any other … explanation.’

Angel pursed his lips.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The shapely Karen Kennedy fluttered her eyelashes, held open the inner office door and said, ‘Mr Prophet will see you now, Inspector.’

‘Thank you,’ Angel said, appreciating the whiff of perfume as he brushed past her.

Charles Prophet was standing, leaning over the desk, his hand already outstretched, ready to welcome him.

‘So very pleased to see you, Inspector. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable.’

‘Thank you,’ Angel said. He noticed the pasty, unhappy face and the noted that he was wearing a black tie.