Lucy McGinley raised her eyebrows.
"What night was that, Mr Bowen?"
His eyes got busy again. He put down the axe and began tidying away the last of the wood.
"What night, Mr Bowen?"
He'd been bent over the woodpile. He straightened up and wiped sweat from his face.
"Oh, you know, the night you murdered Mrs Prendergast."
"Why, that's plain silly talk," Lucy McGinley pretended shock. "And if that's joking, that aint funny."
"I know," agreed Mr Bowen and he made his way back into the schoolhouse.
Lucy McGinley followed slowly. She carried the axe in her right hand.