“Sacked?” Witherspoon repeated. “And your family has no idea you no longer have a job?” Percy nodded. “That’s correct. I wouldn’t have said anything about the matter except you’re going to speak to my former employer. I know this makes me look very bad, but I assure you, I’ve nothing to do with my stepmother’s murder. I simply don’t like working. Well, that wasn’t the exact situation. It was more a case that my employer didn’t appreciate the hours I wanted to keep. Apparently, they expect you to be there from early in the morning until half past five or even six o’clock in the evening.” Surprised, Witherspoon simply stared at the man. It took him a good thirty seconds to recover and ask another question. “When were you sacked?” “At the end of September.” “You’ve been pretending to have a job since the end of September?” Witherspoon pressed. He wanted to understand, to ask how on earth anyone could possibly keep up such a tiring charade? But other than satisfying his own curiosity, the man’s employment situation probably had very little to do with Mrs. Andover’s murder. On the other hand, from what he’d learned of the dead woman,…