Certainly it was a conversation-stopper. Judith stammered, ‘Murdered?’ but otherwise there was silence. Brendan Teasdale pushed himself further into the house, and closed the door behind himself. Hepzie trotted up to him, clearly intending to jump up at his knees, but then thought better of it. Yet another disappointing encounter, she was plainly thinking. ‘Auntie Rita sent me an email, and forwarded one that Richard wrote a while ago.’ ‘When?’ asked Thea. ‘When what?’ ‘When did she send the email? Surely she must be far too upset this afternoon to bother with anything like that.’ ‘You don’t know my aunt,’ he said, with a hint of pride. ‘She sent it just after three o’clock, saying I should come right over here and have a good look in the attic, because there could be items that proved Richard was murdered.’ The man continued to glance repeatedly at Judith, his face flushed. ‘But it doesn’t name the killer,’ Drew persisted, his face not quite straight.
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