‘Shouldn’t fink they needed any potting compost up Beattie’s snatch,’ grinned Ogborne.

‘What’s Claudine like?’

‘Well,’ Ogborne deliberated, ‘Valentin described her as a bourgeois ’ousewife whose face had been touched by the finger of God.’

‘Did anything happen between her and Tristan?’

‘I gotta go back to the set. You coming to that movie?’

‘Yeah, sure.’

Ogborne glanced round furtively.

‘Tristan was giving Madame Vierge direction one day,’ he murmured. ‘She was in costume, long-sleeved purple dress, little lacy gloves. Tristan was squatting down, holdin’ her hands, talking intensely, as he often does with Hermione and Chloe, or even Baby and Mikhail, but I noticed his finger was caressing the gap between her sleeve and her glove.’

‘I’ll see you outside the Odeon at the start of the big film,’ said Karen.

She was not at all pleased when a call on her mobile asked her to whizz over to Penscombe to investigate the whereabouts of Rupert Campbell-Black. Interpol had had no success in finding him, so Gerald Portland wanted her and Gablecross to pump Taggie.

Neither of them talked on the drive. Karen’s head was full of Tristan and how to prove his innocence. Gablecross was feeling beleaguered. All his Brownie points over Hermione’s CD and Rozzy’s presents had been cancelled because he’d had to leave his silver-wedding lunch in the middle of the speeches. Nor would Margaret ever forgive him for snatching up the pink roses and silver foliage, sent by her sister and Australian brother-in-law, to hand over as a peace-offering to Taggie after his mauling of Tabitha last Thursday.

‘No-one’s got any right to live in such a big house,’ fumed Karen, as she pressed Rupert’s doorbell with unnecessary force. ‘This place would make a wonderful hospital.’

Xavier and a pack of dogs answered the door. For a second he and Karen gazed at each other. Then he said, ‘My mother can’t be disturbed, she’s crying. My sister Bianca is comforting her.’

What a beautiful child, thought Karen, wondering how he fitted into such a privileged white right-wing environment.

‘Why’s she crying?’ she asked.

‘Because her dog died. Shall I give her those flowers?’ Xav eyed the pink roses in Gablecross’s hand.

‘No, we’d like a word with her.’

‘She’s down at the graveyard,’ explained Xav. ‘I’ll take you, if you promise not to upset her. My father left me in charge.’

Karen’s disapproval evaporated when Xav introduced her to Peppy Koala on the way. She had won twenty-five pounds on him in the police sweepstake and bought a ribbed scarlet sweater, which she had worn to dramatic effect at the local disco.

‘When did your dog Gertrude die?’ asked Gablecross, admiring the handsome glossy chestnut.

‘Tab brought her home on Sunday night. I woke and looked out of the window. She had blood all over her dress. Daddy went off in the helicopter earlier.’

‘Did he?’ Gablecross stroked Peppy Koala’s sleek, arched neck only a little faster.

‘He took his gun because he was so angry.’

‘When did he get back?’

‘Before Tab. When she arrived with Gertrude, Daddy went out and hugged her. He hadn’t seen her for years. She cries a lot and looks past you. Gertrude’s funeral was the next day. Mummy won’t cry in front of Tab, but Tab’s gone to polo today. Daddy promised us Gertrude has gone to heaven, but Bianca’s worried Rannaldini’s gone there too and might hurt Gertrude again. But Daddy said Rannaldini would be sitting in a bonfire with demons sticking these into him.’ As he closed Peppy’s half-door, Xav tapped a pitchfork leaning against the wall. ‘Tab’s mother’s staying too. She’s a drip. Daddy hates her.’

‘Are you sure your father took the helicopter on Sunday night?’

‘I said so, didn’t I?’

‘Where’s he now?’

‘Abroad, to find out more about Tab’s boyfriend who’s in prison.’

Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings, thought Gablecross in jubilation.

They found Taggie planting heartsease and polyanthus round Gertrude’s grave. Bianca was helping her with a toy trowel. Both children were dispatched to the kitchen to organize cups of tea.

The moment Gablecross laid the roses beside Gertrude’s wonky cross, Taggie started to cry again.

‘I’m so sorry.’ She collapsed on to the grave of Rupert’s great Olympic horse, Revenge. ‘But Gertrude was with me the whole time before I married and when I lost the babies, and when Beattie Johnson dumped twice. I thought she’d be jealous when we adopted Bianca and Xav. We had to leave her for six weeks when we went to Bogotá, but beyond the odd sniff, she loved them, finished up the food they didn’t like. She always kept a biscuit hidden in her basket so she could rush out and eat it very slowly in front of the other dogs. I’m sorry.’

Taggie raised streaming eyes to Karen and Gablecross. ‘She was such a mascot. I live in such a lovely house, but it seems so empty without Gertrude. I feel our luck’s running out.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ protested Karen, putting an arm round Taggie’s shoulders. ‘You’ve got everything to live for. Those kids are so cute.’

‘It’s probably because Rupert’s first wife’s staying,’ confessed Taggie, wiping her nose with the back of her hand and covering her face with earth. ‘She keeps saying Gertrude “had a good innings”, like some stupid cricketer. Oh, God, I’m being a bitch. Lysander, Rupert’s assistant, has an incredibly clever, handsome headmaster father, who’s coming to supper tonight. He and Helen can quote poetry at each other.’

The afternoon sun peering through a lime tree showed up her dreadful pallor.

‘Mrs Campbell-Black,’ said Gablecross, feeling a louse, ‘I know this is distressing, but Beattie Johnson’s last call on Friday night was to your husband. According to Gordon Dillon on the Scorpion, she had some dirt on him and some other woman while you’ve been married.’

Taggie looked up in bewilderment, Karen in horror.

‘Your husband was overheard telling Beattie he’d bury her. He left the set at midnight. An hour and a half later she was dead. Have you any idea of his movements that night?’

Taggie almost fell off Revenge’s grave, frantically digging a hole in the still iron-hard earth with Bianca’s trowel.

‘He was so pleased George Hungerford had given Tab an alibi,’ she mumbled, ‘he rushed off to persuade him to get back with Flora.’

‘He hardly spent all night playing Cupid,’ said Gablecross sarcastically. ‘Are you worried your husband might have killed Rannaldini and Beattie?’

‘Of course he didn’t,’ gasped Taggie. ‘Oh, bugger.’ In her violence she had snapped the little trowel in two. ‘Oh, poor Bianca, of course he didn’t.’

A witness, went on Gablecross relentlessly, had seen Rupert taking a gun and leaving Penscombe by helicopter. A helicopter had also been seen landing at Valhalla and two men running into the wood near Rannaldini’s tower. Another witness had seen Rupert with a gun in his hand.

Taggie sat back on her heels, mouthing in horror.

‘He had plenty of motives.’ Gablecross ticked them off on his fingers. ‘Tab being raped by Rannaldini, Gertrude being killed, Rannaldini arranging for Tab to marry Lovell, Rannaldini trying to murder your stepson Marcus.’

‘Rannaldini did that?’ whispered an appalled Taggie.

‘And your husband had more than enough reason to kill Beattie. Where is he, anyway?’

‘Abroad,’ said Taggie numbly. ‘He didn’t leave a telephone number.’

‘Oh, come on, Mrs C-B. Your husband wouldn’t cross the lawn without leaving a phone number.’

‘How’s Tabitha?’ asked Karen.

Gablecross, like a hound tugged off the scent, kicked her ankle.

‘Better, I think.’ Grateful for the distraction, Taggie planted a polyanthus upside down. ‘Wolfgang’s been so wonderful to Tab. He keeps ringing to see if Helen’s OK. Helen’s convinced he fancies her, but I’m sure he’s only hoping to get Tab. Oh, help, I’ll be punished for being a bitch again.’

Gablecross returned to the attack. ‘What time did your husband leave the house last Sunday?’

‘I don’t remember, I was so upset about Gertrude.’ Taggie began to cry again.

As the stable clock struck five, Xav and Bianca came round the corner carrying a trayful of tea in which floated three cups and some melting chocolate biscuits. They’d been joined on the way by a beautiful young man and a Jack Russell, who was rough-housing noisily round the graves with Xav’s black Labrador.

‘How dare you bully my mother?’ said Xav in outrage.

‘Whatever’s the matter?’ asked the beautiful young man in horror.

‘It’s all right.’ Taggie mopped her eyes on her T-shirt.

‘I’ll give you a pound each if you go and find my cigarettes,’ the young man told Bianca and Xav. ‘Now, what the hell’s going on?’ He turned furiously on Gablecross.

‘He thinks Rupert murdered Rannaldini and Beattie,’ sobbed Taggie.

‘Right.’ The young man squared his shoulders. ‘My name’s Lysander Hawkley. I’m Rupert’s assistant and it’s time I made a statement.’

‘It’s nothing to do with you,’ pleaded Taggie.

‘I was with Rupert last Sunday,’ went on Lysander, ‘when Tab rang and said Rannaldini’d raped her. We took the helicopter. Rannaldini, incidentally, is the most evil person in the world.’

‘How d’you know, sir?’

‘He was married to my wife Kitty for five years, nearly destroyed her. I had to give her a lot of therapy when we were first married,’ Lysander added solemnly. ‘Anyway, Rupert swore he was going to kill Rannaldini, and I wanted part of the action. We landed in the park just after ten thirty. We couldn’t find Tab, but about ten minutes later we stumbled on Rannaldini lying on his back in the middle of the wood. It was a bit dark for sunbathing.’