Peters stepped over the chalk outline. "She's awfully straight for someone who supposedly collapsed."
"Straight?" White bit into the half-sandwich. No mustard.
"Up and down." Peters made a waving motion at the floor with his hand. "According to the report she collapsed in the middle of a conversation but it looks to me like she was moved. I'm almost surprised her hands weren't crossed over her chest."
"You think she'd been moved?"
"I'd be surprised if she wasn't." Peters moved along the kitchen worktop lifting the lids from pots and peering inside. Finding biscuits, he took three before returning the lid to the ceramic jar."
"That's technically theft, you know. And while you're on duty."
"I'm sure they wouldn't mind, sir. Want me to leave tenpence?"
"Thirty pee? I could buy a whole packet for fifty."
"You do that, then and stop messing with my crime scene."
"Right you are sir." Peters munched on a digestive. "Which one was it then?"
Peters nodded to the floor. "Was it the pulchritudinous Ms. DuPoint or one of the toothsome Ms. Turlings?"
"It was Julie Turling, the nanny."
"Ah. No great loss then." Peters pulled a mug out of the cupboard and switched the electric kettle on. "What do you think, then? Natural causes or not?"
White sucked air through his teeth. "Too early to say yet. No marks on the body but until we get the result of an autopsy...What are you doing now?"
"Making a cup of tea, sir. It's not like I'm messing up the crime scene, is it? All the photos have been taken, the dabs have been done – and Gawd help whoever has to clean off the powder – and I'm wearing gloves. Well, a glove. I can't wear one on this hand, can I?"
"Latex makes the biccies taste funny."
"I don't want anything disturbed in the scene, mind. Clean up after yourself, and that means drying the mugs with a cloth and putting them away afterwards."
"Yes. There'll be mine to wash as well."