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stayed for long. Her boyfriend – Darryl, I think he's called – he's younger than her – also turned up a few times lately, and made a half-hearted attempt at decorating for Mrs Mortimer. Trying to curry favour, I took it. But it didn't last long.’
    That explained the half-finished and amateurishly applied blue paint on Mrs Mortimer's living room walls, which he had already noted. Perhaps, as Mrs Atkins said, the half-done decorating had been started in an attempt to curry favour. It hadn't worked, as Rita Atkins explained.
    ‘Mrs Mortimer sent him packing. She accused him of stealing from her. I heard them arguing about it on the landing outside her flat. Going at it hammer and tongs, they were, with him ranting about her being ungrateful.’
    Rafferty glanced at Llewellyn. ‘When was this?’ he asked the warden.
    She frowned. ‘It must be a week ago now. I haven't seen him or Jane since. Though as I said, Jane wasn't what you'd call a regular visitor. Sometimes weeks would go by between visits.’
    ‘Do you know where Mrs Mortimer‘s daughter lives?’ Llewellyn put in. ‘You said her surname's Ogilvie?’
    The warden pulled a face. ‘I know she lives in Mercer's Lane; it's off the High Street, near the East Hill end. Go up Eastchepe and it's the first road on the right. Jane lives at number twelve, I think. But as for her name… Maybe she's calling herself Ogilvie again, or maybe she's adopted her latest boyfriend's name. Your guess as to what it might be this week is as good as mine. She has a habit of calling herself by the name of her latest live-in boyfriend,’ she explained with an accompanying sniff. 'I got the impression there's been quite a succession of them. I understand that not one of her children has the same surname – she had three children last time Mrs Mortimer mentioned them; a bit of a Heinz 57 varieties they are, too. I've seen them out together a couple of times, though I've never seen any of them visiting Mrs Mortimer since she moved here.
    ‘Jane Ogilvie doesn't bother to bring them to see her mother. But then, as I said, she rarely troubled to visit her mother herself. It must have been upsetting for poor Mrs Mortimer, though she never talked about it. Too proud to be willing to acknowledge how far her family had fallen, I suppose.’
    Rafferty and Llewellyn exchanged another glance at this. Rafferty wondered how Mrs Mortimer had felt to be the recipient of pity from Rita Atkins. Clara Mortimer and her daughter sounded as if they must have been total opposites. Even in death Mrs Mortimer had looked well-groomed and fastidious. If she was as old-fashioned as her furniture and other possessions indicated and her daughter was as promiscuous as she sounded it was no wonder they were estranged.
    Rafferty was pleased to learn about Mary Soames, the victim's previous neighbour. It sounded as if she must have known Clara Mortimer for some years so should have valuable information to share. Although Rita Atkins didn't know her address, she was able to tell them Mrs Soames lived in a big house a bit outside the southern outskirts of Elmhurst, so shouldn't be too difficult to track down.
    Rafferty asked her to add the names of those among the other residents that she knew to have been on visiting terms with Clara Mortimer.
    Mrs Atkins looked doubtful, but after some thought added another three names, those of a married couple, the Toombes and the other newcomer to the block, Hal Oliver.
    ‘I think he might have been sweet on her,’ Rita Atkins confided. ‘I saw him knock on her door once, shortly after he moved in, carrying a big bunch of roses. They were red, too.’ She sounded bemused by this and not a little envious.
    But if Rita Atkins envied Clara Mortimer her gentleman caller, Rafferty, for one, was pleased to hear that the solitary Clara Mortimer had an admirer. He took the list the warden had compiled and thanked her.
    ‘There might have been other visitors,’ Mrs Atkins told