You could almost feel the waves of refrigerating hate coming from the angry woman in the rear. Upright she sat, like a tiny princess. Her dark, flashing eyes tried to drill holes in Gently’s unexpressive back. ‘I still don’t understand, inspector!’ ‘I regret the necessity, ma’am.’ ‘I have already been into Norchester once this afternoon. If you had anything to ask me, it could surely be asked at “Willow Street”!’ ‘We require your presence, ma’am.’ ‘I shall certainly consult my solicitor!’ The briefest of ironic smiles flitted across Gently’s homely features as he pulled out to slide past a truck. He had been on the phone at ‘Willow Street’ before Mrs Lammas got back. But the smile didn’t last. He was quite frankly a bit out of his depth. The more he delved into this case, the more perplexing it seemed to get. The more you found out, the less did it add up into a coherent and satisfying whole … as though each new piece in the jigsaw threw the others just a little out of true.
