When she stopped long enough to catch her breath, Shayne said mildly, “Let’s go back to supper last night and exactly what happened. You spoke of them several times… saying you warned them you were planning to have an autopsy on your brother before his body is cremated. Exactly who is ‘them’?”

“Anita and that no-good brother of hers, and Harold Peabody and Dr. Evans,” she said promptly. “I’m sure they’re all in it together. That is, I think Harold planned it all and put her up to it… and then with Doctor Evans twisted around her little finger the way he is, it was in the cards for him to cover up for her. And I wouldn’t be surprised if that chauffeur and Mrs. Blair were mixed up in it too,” she added darkly. “The way I’ve seen Anita looking at the chauffeur and rubbing against him when she thought nobody was looking. And even Mrs. Blair is changed since John married her. I always thought that she and John… well.” She shook her head and shrugged and continued briskly:

“So I made sure all of them were there when I told them right out that the wool wasn’t pulled over my eyes. Those four sitting there guzzling John’s liquor with his funeral tomorrow, and Mrs. Blair coming in and out from the kitchen fixing the table, and Charles lolling out in the kitchen listening to every word that was said. Any one of those six could have slipped the poison into my little chafing dish of creamed chicken because they were all having a casserole of curried shrimp and I’m allergic to seafood and every one of them knew the creamed chicken was just for me and no one else would touch it. So it was safe enough, and I wouldn’t be here to tell you about it if I hadn’t thought to try it out on her dog first.”