First thing Sunday morning, Constable Derby and a team of detectives from Downsfordvale scoured every inch of Myrtle Parker’s home for clues. Myrtle had hovered over the police men and women, watching them like a hawk lest they break anything or make a mess. She really wasn’t in any fit state to do housework and although Ambrosia was being particularly helpful, she felt that the woman would probably draw the line at vacuuming.

‘What are you looking for here, constable?’ Myrtle asked. ‘You should be at the railway station where you found that rotten woman’s car.’

‘I’m sure the detectives up north are there now,’ Constable Derby replied.

At first he’d been perplexed about how Mr Parker would have been able to stand up after all that time in bed. But the man’s doctor had explained that with all the daily exercise Nurse Raylene had been doing with Reginald, the massages and the special muscle stimulation machine that Mrs Parker had procured for his treatment, there was a good chance Reginald would be in quite sound condition – although he’d likely be a bit wobbly to begin with. The doctor said that the last time he’d been to check on Mr Parker, he’d been very impressed with the man’s muscle tone; what he couldn’t understand was how Reginald could suddenly regain consciousness and decide to leave with a woman he didn’t know.

‘I knew she was a vixen from the moment I laid eyes on her. I should never have let her get so close to my Reginald. It’s just that I hardly had the time to spend every moment with him, did I? What with running the show committee and helping the Fayle sisters and visiting the sick and infirmed, I just couldn’t possibly do it all. And then there were all the jobs I had to do. I mean, look at all that cleaning and gardening!’

Ambrosia Headlington-Bear heard the last comment and pursed her lips. Myrtle Parker had not pulled one weed in that front yard of hers. She wondered why she let the woman get away with saying so, but thought better than to make a scene. After all, they’d both been through difficult times and on some strange level, Ambrosia had taken great comfort in her friendship with Myrtle.

‘Well, I think we’re done,’ Constable Derby said, after consulting with the detectives. They’d found nothing suspicious.

Myrtle Parker walked into the front sitting room, where Reginald’s hospital bed sat empty. ‘That’s it then.’ She patted the mattress. ‘I’ll call and have this returned to the hospital tomorrow morning, shall I?’

Constable Derby frowned. ‘Oh, uh . . .’

‘Are you sure you don’t want to leave that a few days, Myrtle? I can arrange it for you,’ Ambrosia offered.

‘Why would I leave it?’ Myrtle snapped. ‘It’s clear he’s not going to need it any more.’

Constable Derby looked embarrassed. ‘I’ll be off then, Mrs Parker.’ He walked towards the front hallway. ‘I’ll let you know if we hear anything more.’

But Myrtle Parker was already halfway through stripping the sheets off the bed. She didn’t notice the envelope that had slipped down into the folds of the cotton blanket. She bundled the sheets and blanket together and added the pillow slip.

‘Ambrosia, would you pop these into the machine for me?’ she instructed. ‘They can all go in together. I’ll call the hospital.’

Ambrosia frowned. She’d get to it shortly, after she finished the washing up.

Constable Derby let himself out. He wondered if Myrtle Parker really would be all right.