Another murder mystery. I wasn't going to bother, but I got a request too much fun to pass up. Kslchen, this one's for you. Hopefully it meets all your requirements. I had all kinds of fun trying to fit them in.

Parnokianlipstic, I'm flattered! I do love Gently. He's peerless in the world of detective fiction, though Foyle might run him a close second. For you to see him here delights me. I was rewatching George Gently as I started drafting Geordie's character, so I suppose it was inevitable that some of him got into the DNA. And Judith was always fun - sort of an exercise in what Isabella might have been like if we'd got a chance to know her. As for the rest, I'm so glad you are finding it satisfying. My first crack at an afterwards for Anne's children was in many ways more golden, I think, but this world has got me completely immersed.

Anyway, for those of you that want a bit of fun, I've thrown in all kinds of detective names for you to spot as you read.

Otherwise there remains only to say that I've got a handful of chapters left after this one and then it's on to other projects. Some involve aunts and some don't but I'm looking forward to all of them. And if there's ever an idea you want to throw at me, you know where I am in the interim :)

The mink was life-sized. Well, of course it was, thought an exasperated Teddy Lovall. It had once been alive. And for reasons best known to someone else – Frank Cartwright as per the dedication plaque, on the mink's beechwood log, presumably – they had seen fit to stuff it after death.

Edward Lovall – Teddy to friends and family – had never understood the point of taxidermy. It disturbed him because without fail he thought the animal was alive and then suddenly he'd be face to face with a bear or a hawk or that bloody awful tiger from that one case, and the smell of it…He could smell it now, sitting in the dark and musty interior of whatever oblique university college this was. Teddy had already forgotten.

The room was dark, crowded and the air thick with the smell of overwarm people, musty books and formaldehyde. All because of the damn mink. Teddy thought longingly of the days when he was a mere sergeant and the closest he got to Geordie Carlisle's job the temporary and dubious distinction of Acting Detective Inspector while the unlucky man himself attended the conference in question. Those had been the days, if only Past Teddy Lovall had known it.

But now, unhelpfully, it was Teddy who was the Detective Inspector and Georde Carlisle who was able to relax idly behind a desk filling in the paperwork that Teddy had attended the conference in question. Which was about…Actually, Teddy had no idea. There was indeed a man up at the front, holding forth on something, but between the distraction of the mink and the soporific smell of the books, Teddy had lost track on the subject of the hour.

Partly for the diversion, partly for the sake of not falling asleep, he began to people watch. Immediately in front of Teddy was Square Jaw. Square Jaw was broad and unremarkable from behind, and bald as the proverbial egg. Sat next to him was Spindly, who Teddy suspected was not actually so lanky as he appeared but looked the more so for being sat next to Square Jaw. Opposite Spindly and on a diagonal to Teddy was Blue Jumper. Blue Jumper fell into the enviable category of tall, dark and handsome, or so Teddy surmised from the way the designated secretary at the back kept pausing to look at him. Probably he was also more charming than was legal. And Kitty, had Teddy been able to talk her into attendance, would never have given Blue Jumper the time of day. Teddy took comfort in this.

But if Blue Jumper was the secretary's type, she was not at all Teddy's. Too interested by half in Blue Jumper and not nearly interested enough in what she was supposed to be doing. Mind you, Teddy thought, Kingsport had spoiled him and he knew it.

He had to watch the secretary covertly, because she was positioned on a bench parallel to him and really looking at her would have required turning around.

But from what he could see, she was golden, in a way Judith Carlisle had once assured him all girls aspired towards being, and smartly got up in tweed. She also didn't appear to know the first thing about shorthand, for what Teddy's dubious opinion was worth. Sat at a distance to her, he based this on the way her pen looped rather than scratched away at the paper. It was as if she was taking whole notes. A sure-fire way to do her hand muscles in, but probably not much else.

He was getting a crick in his neck, so he shifted his gaze to the cluster of seats on the other side of the room. Apricot Skirt had a habit of fidgeting. Presently she was fidgeting with the nib of a pencil she was turning between long, bony fingers. It was getting on the nerves of Green Cardigan beside her. Green Cardigan wore pearls at her throat and on her ears. Brown hair, long and plaited elaborately. The kind of thing Mara Blythe could have done, Teddy thought, and maybe enjoyed. Evidently they knew each other. He could tell, because a complete stranger would not feel as comfortable jabbing Apricot Skirt in the elbow to stop her fidgeting as Green Cardigan did. Apricot Skirt jabbed her back. They went on like that for several seconds, stifling smiles.

Teddy wondered what the connection was. Colleagues, presumably – morality officers as had been? Women who'd failed to dodge, as Kitty had so fabulously dodged, being roped into the ordeal alongside a long-suffering friend or relative?

They were fascinating Red Tie, anyway. Red Tie annoyed Teddy on principle. He was one of those people who thought he was entitled to whatever he set his mind to, see further the open and relaxed slouch of him in his chair while he watched the young women with an interest that was far from academic. He was vain enough to oil his hair but not so vain as to buy clothes that were a decent cut. Instead, he bought just a cut below the really smart stuff and expected braggadocio would stop you noticing. Probably Teddy wouldn't have noticed except that the Superintendent always dressed for the station house as if he was dressing for a formal evening. He'd always done it and his juniors speculated endlessly as to whether it was a quirk of his personality or a perk of his salary. Now being on the receiving end of Inspector's pay, Teddy felt safe coming down on the side of a quirk of character. Red Tie hadn't got it.

Up front the interminable talk came to an end, the lights came up and they were dismissed for the rest of the afternoon. Teddy tried hard not to run for the nearby telephone nook but it was difficult. But he had the Super in his ear hissing internally about bad form, so he checked his pace and resumed covertly surveiling the others. Red Tie had sauntered over to Apricot Skirt and Green Cardigan and was now leaving with a young woman on each arm, their laughter over-loud in the musty, dingy room with its smell of crowd and taxidermy.

Blue Jumper was rowing with Square Jaw but trying – and manifestly failing – to do it quietly, while Spindly tried and also failed to work up the nerve to talk with the secretary. She, meanwhile was trying to organize her notes. That was also a notable failure. Teddy watched from the phone nook as they cascaded onto the floor and Spindly missed the obvious opportunity to declare himself. The line connected. Kitty's voice in his ear, crisp, clipped and obviously anticipating someone much more important, said 'Catherine Forster, News Desk, Globe and Mail.'

'Kitten,' said Teddy, 'tell me you can be tempted away for half an hour?'

There was a rumble and clatter as a besuited man, much more expensively dressed than Red Tie bustled with a trolley into the room. Coffee, presumably. Teddy ignored it. It was probably suboptimal. Another way in which the Kingsport Investigateers had spoiled him. Conference stuff always was.

'Let you out for good behaviour, have they?' said Kitty.

Teddy ignored her. Said, 'What's the name of that place you like over on Yorkville Ave? I could be there in…'

He twisted his wrist to study his wristwatch and that's when it happened. There was a crack. The lights went out. In his hand, Teddy felt the line go dead, Kitty's laughing contralto replaced by the hiss of dead air. There was a thud. A scream. Teddy dropped the phone as if scalded and ran towards the commotion. This was difficult because it had come from the front of the room and there were chairs, never mind a crush of people in the way. But Teddy wasn't one of Kingsport's better isnpectors for nothing. He shouldered and elbowed his way upstream until he was kneeling over what turned out to be the body of Square Jaw. He felt reflexively for a pulse. Found none. Probed at the head and felt the hot, sticky wetness of blood. It smelled sweet, and metallic and it mingled badly with taxidermy. Wish you were here, Doc,thought Teddy, and groped with his free hand along the floor. It came up against something gnarled and tree like. The log, Teddy thought obliquely. The beechwood log the mink was sitting on .And then, feeling further along it, sure enough…the sticky, blood-spattered fur of the mink. Probably brain-spattered too, if Teddy remembered the Doc's lectures right.

Teddy crouched there, one hand uselessly on the pulseless carotid of Square Jaw, one on the bizarre murder weapon, and that's when the lights came up.

That they opted to pin the murder on him was unremarkable to Teddy Lovall. He had one hand on the thing that had killed Square jaw and was closer to him than anything else. And then, helpfully, the man who had come in with the trolley said, 'He did it!' and that was that.

Teddy knew it would be because he had put in entirely too much time managing mobs. He knew all too well how easily persuaded a moiling melee of people could be. It did not surprise him now. It was singularly irritating, but he had blood on his hands and trace fur from the bloody stupid mink. Of course, it was all highly circumstancial. Cicumstance and hearsay from the person Teddy now realised was the ACC's butler, press-ganged into managing the college scouts for the weekend. Teddy knew it, they knew it, and they knew Teddy knew they knew, just as he knew that they knew that…etc.

Teddy let himself be led gruffly away.

The ACC, who was a starched personage named Playfair, said, 'Why did you do it?'

'I didn't,' said Teddy. 'In the event I was investigating a crime scene, as per my job description.'

'So,' said Playfair, 'it was an opportunistic sort of thing?'

'No,' said Teddy. Then, suddenly, inspiration in the shape of Catherine Forster, the little sister he had neither wanted nor asked for but was now cosmically stuck with forever.

'Anyway,' he said, 'I hadn't got anything like an opportunity.'

Playfair said, unimpressed, 'How do you reckon that, then, lad?'

'I was on the bloody phone, wasn't I?' said Teddy. 'When it happened. I was on the phone when the lights cut out. Go on, check on it. Ring The Globe and Mail. Ask for Miss Forster on the news desk.'

Playfair's lurking second-in-command grinned a lupine sort of grin, all sharpt white teeth and exposed gums. 'Lady friend, eh?' he said.

'Sister,' Teddy said with emphasis. 'Bloody nuisance but I guess they all are. Go on, telephone her. Interrupt her incredibly busy day and ask just when I last harangued her.'

The second-in-command went. Playfair loomed, big broad and heavy-set over Teddy. For the sake of something to say, Teddy said, 'What was his name, anyway? The dead man?'

Something twitched in Playfair's features but was quickly supressed. Something looked remarkably like surprise.

'It checks out,' said Playfair's second, lumbering back into view.

'So, you really didn't know him, eh, Inspector?' said Playfair.

'Not from a hole in the wall,' said Teddy. 'Same with the rest of them.'

Playfair groaned. He said, 'Nothing for it then, Inspector – ' he reached for and missed Teddy's name.

'Lovall,' said Teddy.

Playfair nodded. Took this in stride and went on as if nothing had happened. 'Right. Lovall. Looks like you're the only one we can establish was definitely where he said he was at the time Albert Archer was killed. So, you'll have to solve it.'

Teddy blinked, astonished by the rapidity with which they had gone from accusing him to getting him to head up an investigation. He opened his mouth, thought about pointing out Toronto was well out of his jurisdiction and closed it again.

'Right,' said Teddy. 'Tell the porters. No one in or out until this mess is sorted. Got that?'

'Got it,' said Playfair's unremarkable lieutenant and trotted off.

Teddy went for the phone. Reflexively he dialled cabbage town and got no answer. He swore softly and dialled the newspaper instead. There was a whirring and clicking and then a thoroughly exasperated Kitty saying, 'Miss Ola, if this isn't the council with a quote about – '

'Sorry Kitten,' said Teddy. 'No joy. Look, can you – ' but his favour was precipitately cut off by a shriek of equal parts relief and vexation.

'Teddy!' said Kitty. 'What in God's name has been happening? Why have I just had to give an Acting Chief Commissioner Playfair the particulars of our curtailed phone call and why on earth does he think you've murdered that man?'

'Archer,' said Teddy, not answering. 'And he doesn't think it any more. Thanks for that. Look, can you do me another favour and – '

'So it's true then?' asked Kitty. Teddy wondered wearily how he hadn't seen this coming. 'Someone really is dead?'

'I cannot possibly comment,' said Teddy, 'on an active investigation and you bloody well know it, Miss Forster. Do me a favour and find out for me just who is attending this ruddy conference, can you?'

'Isn't that the sort of thing Benwick does?'

'Benwick,' said Teddy, 'is in Kingsport and I can't stomach the long-distance fee.'

'What's in it for me?'

'A scoop on the murder of one Albert Archer?' said Teddy. The seconds ticked ponderously by. Finally, grudgingly, 'Oh, all right. But you'd better mean it about the scoop. And you'd better make it worth it. Murders aren't my patch anymore and if Paretsky finds out…'

'Call it breaking news,' said Teddy. 'If a dead police officer isn't worthy of an above-the-fold first page spread than I really don't know what is, these days.'

Kitty groaned but duly promised to find out what she could through her sources. Undisclosed, naturally, though Teddy did try inquiring.

He padded back the way he had come and found the trolley brought in by Playfair's minion. Lugg, that was his name.

'Coffee, Sir?' said Lugg as Teddy approached.

'Please,' said Teddy. He took the cup, sipped and was surprised by the quality. Not sludge, after all.

'Sir approves?' said Lugg.

'Yes,' said Teddy. 'What is it, Brazillian?'

'Turkish,' said Lugg. 'I get very strict orders about the coffee. Very particular, like.' He nodded Playfair-ward.

'Right,' said Teddy. 'Yes, of course.' He thought, absurdly, of Geordie and his fastidiousness over the tea things in the station house. 'Look,' he said now, 'you didn't see anything did you, when you came in?'

Opposite Teddy, Lugg shifted from polished leather foot to polished leather foot as he considered the question. 'Afraid not,' he said at last. 'Lights went out just as I came in, like.'

'Of course,' said Teddy.

'A bad business,' said Lugg with renewed inspiration. And when Teddy murmerred assent, 'Yes, a very bad business.'

The day dragged on. In due course Teddy learned that Spindly was rightly called Edgar Spade and that he was up from Ottawa. Teddy filed this away for report when he finally got home on the basis that the Superintendent would like to hear about his old patch. So he made small-talk with Spade on the pretext of station house gossip, but did not learn much except that Spade was an old friend of Apricot Skirt, properly Alexandra Campion.

'Sister?' asked Teddy, which made Spade laugh.

He said, 'Hardly. Married my partner, didn't she? But then he was shot and she was stuck with the kid, so I try to get her out where I can.'

Teddy hummed. Inquired further of his conversationalist, 'And the woman with her?'

'Evelyn Foley,' said Spade. Teddy nodded. Filed the name away for future reference. Evelyn Foley, alias Green Cardigan. Spade said, 'She's something in social work now. Not at all sure why they bothered sending her, but anyway, we did used to work together.'

'Ottawa sent quite the delegation,' said Teddy.

'Oh no,' said Spade. 'This was after that. Village in the middle of bloody nowhere. Doubt you'll have heard of it.'

'Try me,' said Teddy. So Spade did, but as he'd suspected, Teddy had not heard of Guelph, which was more township than city.

The phone rang. Lugg lumbered in their direction. Teddy said, 'That will be a summons, I'm afraid.' He raised a hand Lugg-ward to indicate that he registered the attention and went to pick up the phone.

'Well?' he said.

'And hello to you to,' said Kitty. 'You owe me a week's dinners for this, by the way. At least. The time I had…'

'Kitty,' said Teddy warningly.

'Oh hold onto your horses, Inspector, I've got what you wanted. Have you any idea what kind of a quagmire you've waded into?'

'No?' said Teddy. He sensed this was a safe answer.

'No, I don't think so, either. Right, so, it turns out one of your lot, Spade, was sent out of Ottawa under a cloud.'

'Spindly,' muttered Teddy. 'Who'd have thought it.'

'Sorry?'

'Nothing, Kitten. Go on. Why the cloud?'

'Disorderly conduct,' said Kitty with atypical primness. 'I think that's police report speak for had it away with the wrong person's wife.'

'Ah,' said Teddy. 'The lovely Miss Campion.'

'I wouldn't know,' said Kitty.

'Not what I meant. For God's sake, Kitten, draw in your claws before you do someone damage, will you?'

'Just looking out for you. Oh, and there's a gentleman called Raymond Marlowe. He's in attendance but Kenneth Ford hauled him over the coals back in the '20s as part of the expose he was doing on corruption in the forces. Apparently he took bribes from protection rackets.'

'And we kept him on?' said Teddy, incredulous.

'Well, he's there,isn't he?'

'If you say so. Look, you didn't turn up photos, did you, Kitten? Only I'm having the devil's own time matching your scintillating intelligence with this lot.'

'You are?'

'That a yes, is it?'

'I can't just hand over archival footage of – '

'Active police investigation,' said Teddy with as much force as he could muster, confronted with the full weight of Kitty's tenacity and stubbornness, which was considerable. Luckily, he was almost a match for her.

'Forget what I said earlier,' said Kitty. 'You owe me several weeks of dinners. Somewhere nice, preferably. Meet me – '

'You're going to have to come here,' said Teddy. And when groaning came from her side of the line, 'It's procedure. I've had the porters shut everyone in. I can't exactly…'

'Oh, all right,' said Kitty. 'Though I can't imagine the local police surgeon will thank you for – '

'Completely different thing,' said Teddy, and was thoroughly unsurprised when the line went from exasperated, frost-bitten silence to static.

Half an hour later Teddy met Kitty at the college gates, whereat she handed him a large and unwieldy folder through the ironwork and threatened him in awful tones that if he didn't have a first-rate story for her by tomorrow evening at the latestshe would not be held accountable and the local constabulary may well find itself needing to investigate another murder. Teddy laughed and the hovering porter looked only vaguely disquieted.

'Friend of yours?' he asked.

'Family,' said Teddy.

'Ah,' said the porter, and went off to resume his post at the front desk.

By evening Teddy had established that Red Tie was Raymond Marlowe of the dark cloud Kitty had mentioned, and that Blue Jumper was really Maigret. No first name because he'd come from the French part of somewhere-or-other and Kitty's French was if possible more piecemeal than Teddy's. This also had the effect of ensuring Teddy new less about Maigret-of-the-blue-jumper than he did anyone else.

The secretary, meanwhile was one Harriet Rebus and part of Playfair's entourage. Spade still hadn't got up the nerve to speak with her, Teddy saw when he regained the library before dinner. But Marlowe was trying, and as per the evidence, succeeding, at romancing two women at once. He had still got the former Mrs Campion on one arm and Evelyn Foley on the other, both listening raptly to what Teddy thought uncharitably were likely tales of the good old days. The ones when you could turn a blind eye to protection rackets and get away with it. Charming, thought Teddy. Then, disturbingly, And if he's not careful there will be blood. Teddy shook himself. Looked at their triad again. Did not change his mind. The women's claws were decidedly showing and if Marlowe couldn't see it…But he was probably the type to enjoy the carnage, Teddy thought.

He touched a hand to his blaizer and felt the comforting weight of Kitty's research. She had been thorough. Lugg, Playfair's butler had a laundry list of petty crimes that his boss had rescued him from, and there was something on Miss Foley, but he couldn't remember…

He reached for the folder but did not get to read it because a voice at his elbow said suddenly of the tableau in the middle distance, 'Awful, isn't he?' Maigret, Teddy thought, hearing the accent. Must be.

Teddy let his eyes drift back to the overly-oiled, badly dressed but apparently charming Marlowe.

'Agreed,' he saud. But he got no further opportunity to study his companion because somewhere deep in the building a gong sounded for dinner. Maigret went to rescue Harriet Rebus from the sidelines, and Spade prised Alexandra Campion away from the decidedly oily Raymond Marlowe.

Teddy found he had fallen into unwitting step with Playfair, who began to grill him on the particulars of the investigation.

'It's difficult,' said Teddy. 'It was neither of the women – Misses Campion or Foley – because they were together when it happened. I saw that quite clearly. Likewise, Spade there was preoccupied with your Miss Rebus and the Frenchman was arguing with our victim, but…'

'Aha!' said Playfair. 'So it was him!'

'Well, we can't say for sure, Sir. They were quite a long way from the chairs the last I saw of them before…Look, let me have a word with him over dinner.'

But conversation was awkward and stilted as it was, without Teddy grilling anyone around portions of trout and undercooked potatoes. No one wanted to be there, and even fewer people were hungry. Once Miss Foley on his left touched Teddy's elbow to ask, 'Would you mind if I came and talked to you, Inspector? Afterwards, I mean. Somewhere more…'

'Private?' offered Teddy as an uneasy Lugg manifested between them with the meat dish. Teddy waved it on. Miss Foley nodded, her pearls talking gently to themselves. 'Of course,' said Teddy as Lugg moved on.

There was tea and coffee, but no one felt up for party broke up early and Playfair let it. So did Teddy. Miss Foley said she would come find Teddy in the anteroom adjoining the afternoon conference room. This was why Teddy was sitting there, the acrid smell of blood sharp on his tongue, when it happened. He was playing chess with Maigret in a draughty, overly-gothic anteroom when the lights went out. Opposite him Maigret called damnation upon the building's shoddy wiring. Teddy barely registered it because it was then a scream rang out. Teddy dropped the white bishop, previously poised between thumb and forefinger and lurched in the direction of the scream, the other man on his heels.

Teddy half-tripped over an armchair, properly tripped over an occasion table, and collided with a stone arch that had appeared where no arch should have been. That was Teddy's line and he stuck to it. By the time he lunged for the door he felt more battered than a cricket ball and more bruised than a crabapple windfall. It was a relief when the lights came back on.

Up one flight of stairs three-at-a-time, round a marble landing with one bust too many, another flight of stairs two-at-a-time. He passed Marlowe, also running towards the commotion, Miss Rebus at his heels. He's never after her, too, thought Teddy but with oblique incredulity because somewhere a woman was still screaming. Another landing. A door banged open where no door should have be and Spade almost collided with Teddy. He apologised and brushed past, half a pace behind Marlowe. Teddy paused with a stitch in his side and rubbed at it, but a woman was still screaming, so he pressed one hand against his side and ran on. Down a corridor covered in lacklustre pastorals, past a bust of the founder and into…Teddy didn't know what the room was. But he knew everyone was assembled in it and that Alexandra Campion was standing over the body of the late Evelyn Foley. She was still in her pearls and green cardigan and she had been bludgeoned to death with a taxidermized beaver. It was massive and it had a hefty, and now bloodied, piece of driftwood between its little, taxidermized jaws.

Teddy got a hand under Miss Campion's elbow and led her away from the worst of the mess.

'I found her,' she said. 'Honest. I know no one will believe me, but I did.'

There was a coffee cup cooling on a nearby table. Teddy reached for it and passed it to Miss Campion. It smelled rich and full-blooded. Turkish. Lugg's work.

'Here,' Teddy said. She took it gratefully. Carefully, he said, 'You didn't…argue with her? Only earlier it looked as if…' He did not finish. He waved the hand that had lately held the coffee cup in vague and indeterminate fashion, an interview technique derived from years of watching Judith Carlisle interrogate everyone from madwomen to misbehaving gremlins. It had the desired effect.

Miss Campion said, 'Oh, that. It's so silly, now. Only I knew Marlowe once before…Anyway, I suppose when I heard he'd be here I thought we would…' She echoed Teddy's earlier gesture.

'Reconnect?' said Teddy. Miss Campion nodded.

'But it didn't happen like that.' It was not a question.

'No,' she said. 'Well, you saw. He was more interested in Evie. It rankled, if that's what you mean, but I didn't kill her because of it.'

Teddy believed her. Not for any reason he could put his finger to. He simply believed her, and if Superintendent Carlisle had taught him anything over the years, it was to trust that instinct.

'You'll be all right if I leave you?' said Teddy.

Alexandra Campion laughed a laugh like a champagne bubble. It was, perhaps pinched with a touch of hysteria. But she sounded composed enough when she said, 'You go on. Get to work, Inspector. We'll all feel safer when we know who's done it.'

'Nothing,' said Playfair when Teddy rejoined him. 'Absolutely nothing, would you believe it? Statements from everyone and no one saw or heard anything before five minutes ago.'

Teddy could believe it. God knew he hadn't seen anything. He looked across at the waxen Miss Campion, still fidgeting with her coffee mug, and said, not thinking it through, 'What about Lugg?'

'Sorry?' said Playfair.

'What about Lugg?' said Teddy. He did not for a moment think his superior had failed to hear the original question. Not at all. Hedging, slightly, he said, 'My brothers are college age, or some of them are, and they reckon the scouts know everything that goes on. You know, because no one pays attention to them so they just go on with their lives as if no one can see. Which of course the scouts can. So, what about Lugg?'

There was a long, taut pause. Playfair said, 'I never asked.'

'I think you'd better,' said Teddy.

'Oh but surely,' began Playfair, but Teddy didn't let him finish.

'You see,' said Teddy, 'I believe he killed them.'

Now there were many heads turned towards Teddy. Miss Campion dropped the coffee cup she was holding. It fell to earth and shattered into unremarkable white shards. Maigret only raised two elegant eyebrows.

'Surely not,' said Playfair.

Edgar Spade said, 'Lugg? Really?'

Marlowe only fussed with his tie.

'I should have seen it before,' said Teddy, and looked uneasily at the prone body of Evelyn Foley.

'You see, it was as he came in the lights went out the first time. I spoke with the scout that sorted it out and there's a box quite near the entrance Lugg used, so if you know your way around switches, it's easily done. And Lugg, as you'll know, Sir,' with a nod at Playfair, 'is good at that sort of thing.'

'But why on earth should Lugg kill anyone?' said Marlowe.

'I imagine,' said Teddy, 'it was because the unfortunate Mr Archer recognized him. When I went digging I found he was the arresting officer that got Lugg a record in the first place. Playfair here took him on, but only on the condition he keep his nose clean. And Archer, being a thorough sort of chap, had uncovered evidence that he wasn't. That Lugg was, in fact, up to old tricks again. So when Archer wouldn't stay quiet, Lugg arranged to bring in the coffee. He fixed it with the lights, and having ensured Archer was alone, went for him with the nearest blunt object.'

'Which was, of course, the sodding mink,' said Playfair.

'Exactly,' said Teddy. 'And that might have been that, but unfortunately for Lugg, someone saw him. Miss Foley was coming to talk to me when Lugg waylaid her. The coffee,' and here Teddy gestured at the shattered remains of the cup, 'probably made a good cover. I imagine Lugg told her he'd been charged with bringing it round to everyone. So she took the coffee, sat down with it, and on his way out, Lugg pulled the old lighting trick again. Outer Darkness, round two. But now Lugg only has a split second in which to catch Miss Foley off guard so he once again reaches for whatever's on hand, and…' he waved at the bloodied badger. 'Hazards of holding a conference in a school with a biology specialty, I suppose. But it did the trick.'

'But not really,' said Kitty, hearing about it over dinner. They were in a bistro around the corner and down the office from The Globe and Mail.The kind that stoppered its wine bottles with candles and believed fervently in the generous use of olive oil and cheese in its cooking and wrought iron in its furnishings.

'Really,' said Teddy. It was a relief to be shot of the college. The air smelled of herbs and spices, of tenderized meat and melting wax. It was good.

'A mink?'

'And a badger. Knew I was right not to like them.' He grinned. Kitty's eyes narrowed dangerously. 'That reminds me,' said Teddy. 'I've got something for you.'

'Oh?'

'Say as a token of appreciation for all that spadework you did.'

He scrabbled in the bag at his feet. Kitty said, 'I sense a catch. What is it?'

'None at all,' said Teddy, still scrabbling. He found what he wanted, surfaced, and held out his prize. Kitty stared.

'From the college,' said Teddy. 'For a job well done.'

For a moment they both stared frozen at the stiff red, taxedermized fur of the pine marten in Teddy's arms. And then they began to laugh.

Up to now I think I've been good about solemnly observing all the detection club commandments, including the bit about no jiggery-pokery. But Kslchen said she wanted taxidermy, locked room, and crucially, a murderous butler, so that's that commandment broken. I take comfort in the fact all the best detective writers break the rules, so look for a best-selling murder mystery out of my corner in...someday ;)