Lowell said. He shook his head and muttered at them for a while and then roused himself. “Jude, my dearest, you need to change and have a hot drink. I’ll make cocoa while you go and get into a dressing gown, and then let’s talk this over, shall we?” Jude shot a look at Eddy. “She is quite safe, my dear,” Lowell said. “I admit I’m surprised to be accused of several brutal murders, but she is a teenager, and I believe teenagers have regularly charged their fathers with as much and more. Still.” He gave them both a stern look over the tops of his spectacles then turned away. “I worked in the nursing home,” he began, a few minutes later when Jude was back in a tartan dressing gown and woolen socks, scratchy but warm on her numb feet. She had a towel wound round her head and had wiped her make-up off roughly, leaving her face tingling. “My father wanted to punish me for the snub of my neglecting medicine.
