didn’t have a key to the shop, that the metal shutters were down over the window and door and the burglar alarm set. I told her I would never ask her to wear the dress again. I told her to sit and I would fix her a drink. She drank a lot. I said I would mix her a special cocktail. I did. I opened up several of my sleeping pills and mixed up some concoction from the cocktail cabinet. I remember her eyes were hard and glittering as she drank it down. When she passed out, I tied her arms and legs very firmly. With wire.”
Agatha moved close to Charles.
“When she recovered, I said I was going to take her eyes out and replace them with doll’s eyes. Did I say I had gagged her as well? No? Well, I did. I told her I wanted a divorce, I wanted her to leave immediately. I told her to nod her head if she agreed. She nodded. I wanted to frighten her so much, you see, that not only would she leave me and divorce me, but that she would not attack me when I released her. As soon as she was free, she packed and left.”
Agatha looked at him, her eyes gleaming. “But you must have still loved her.”
“Why?”
“You learned somehow that she was having an affair with my husband, so you attacked him first, but he escaped, and you then killed Melissa.”
He gave a gentle little laugh. He did not seem at all upset Agatha’s accusations. “I am not a violent man. Oh, if you could have felt the relief I felt when she had gone. Did I say I could not dance? I meant, I was too shy to dance. But when she had gone, I waltzed around the house.” He took the doll’s tiny hand in his and waltzed round the shop.
Just then a customer walked in and he stopped dancing. “I will be with you in a minute,” he said. He retreated to the back shop with his doll.
“Let’s get out of here,” muttered Agatha.
They walked outside. The rain had stopped and patches of pale-blue sky were appearing among the ragged grey clouds far above them.
“We should tell Bill about this,” said Charles.
“Phew!” Agatha clutched his arm. “I could use a drink.”
They went into a pub. Agatha asked for gin and tonic and Charles had an orange juice. “Didn’t Bill say he had an alibi?” asked Agatha.
“No, he said Sheppard had an alibi. He didn’t say anything I about Dewey and we didn’t ask. I think we should tell him this. The man’s mad.”
Agatha took out her mobile phone. But she was told when she dialled police headquarters in Mircester that Bill had gone home.
“I hate seeing him at home,” mourned Agatha. “Those parents of his!”
“We’d better try anyway. Drink up!”
¦
The Wongs lived in a builder’s estate much like the one inhabited by Mr. Dewey. Bill’s father was Hong Kong Chinese, and his mother, from Gloucestershire. Mrs. Wong opened the door. She stared at them and then shouted over her shoulder, “Father, it’s that woman again!”
She was joined by Mr. Wong, who shuffled forward in a pair of carpet slippers. “May we speak to Bill?” asked Agatha. “It’s very important.”
“You should’ve phoned first to make an appointment.” He stood in the doorway with his wife at his side and neither of them showed any signs of moving. How could Bill ever hope to get married, thought Agatha, living as he did with these possessive parents?
She suddenly shouted, “Bill!” at the top of her voice, and was relieved to hear his answering voice, “Agatha?”
Reluctantly his parents backed away from the doorway and then Bill stood there, beaming. “Come in, come in. Perhaps we could all have some tea, Ma?”
“I’m not making tea for nobody,” grumbled his mother.
“Can we go into the garden, maybe?” suggested Agatha. “We’ve got some news that might interest you.”
“Sure.” Bill led the way through the house into the garden at the back, which was his pride and joy. They sat down at a garden table surrounded by a riot of flowers.
“What have you got for me?”
Agatha described John Dewey and then related the story of his marriage, ending up with asking, “Did he have an alibi?”
“There are witnesses to testify that he was working late in his shop the night Melissa was killed, and that Neighbourhood Watch woman saw him returning home around midnight. Of course, we can’t pin-point the exact time of death. He could easily have driven over to Carsely. We’ll keep an eye on him. Anything else?”
Agatha told him about the visit to the disco, about learning that Melissa at one time had been sectioned for a drug addiction and diagnosed as a psychopath. Then she said, “Of course, there is the other husband, Sheppard.”
“But Luke Sheppard and his wife spent that night at the Randolph in Oxford.”
“Still, that’s not far. He could have driven to Carsely, done the deed, and driven back. It takes about three quarters of an hour to get to Oxford. Half an hour if someone broke the speed limit.”
“We checked. The night staff didn’t see him leave.”
“It’s impossible,” groaned Agatha. “It could well be someone from way back in her past. She told my cleaner she was engaged on secret work for the government. Now I know that’s another of her lies, but what prompted that lie? Could she have been tied up with some MP or army man?”
“Like James?” suggested Bill, and then regretted saying it as a haunted look appeared in Agatha’s eyes.
“Is there no word of him, Bill?”
“Not a thing. We regularly check to see if he’s drawn any money, but there’s nothing. Look, why don’t you stay here and relax and then we’ll all have dinner.”
Agatha repressed a shudder. His mother was a dreadful cook and his parents would grumble about their presence all through the meal. She was always amazed that Bill could not see how awful they were, but he obviously adored his father and mother and could see no fault in them. “No, thanks,” she said. “We’d better get on.”
“Thanks anyway for your news. We may pull in Dewey for questioning again. If he could tie her up like that and threaten to take her eyes out, then he could easily have killed her.”
¦
“Where to now?” asked Charles. “Call it a day and go for dinner?”
“I’m tired. But we could just catch Luke Sheppard again before he closes his shop.”
“And what can we ask him we haven’t asked him already?”
“We could tell him about Dewey. I mean, ask if he’d ever met Dewey. Ask him whether Dewey ever called on Melissa.”
“All right,” said Charles amiably. “We’ll give it a try.”
Agatha looked at him with a sudden burst of affection. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Charles!”
His face took on a tight, closed look. Damn, though Agatha. Rule number one. Never tell a man you need him. In a moment or two, he’ll tell me he wants to go home and pack. But to her surprise, he drove steadily and said nothing until they drove into the main car-park at Mircester.
“I feel our Sheppard is a bad-tempered man,” said Charles. “Let’s hope he doesn’t exercise it on us.”
“You could buy something,” suggested Agatha. “That would put him in a good mood.”
“From that shop? You must be joking.”
“A thought, that’s all.” As they walked along the street where Sheppard’s shop was situated, they saw him outside, pulling down the shutters. They quickened their step and came up to him. “Oh, it’s you pair,” he said ungraciously.
“We wondered if you could spare us a minute,” said Agatha.
“Okay, but a minute is all I’ve got. Let’s go to the pub.”
Once inside, Agatha asked him what he wanted to drink, not wanting Charles to start on one of his tales
