Agatha introduced both of them and launched into their reasons for wanting to speak to her.
Mrs. Hill stepped out on the doorstep and looked nervously up and down the street. “You’d better come in,” she whispered, although the street was empty.
She led them into a large dark room full of heavy old furniture. “I was shocked about poor Tristan’s death,” she said. “Such a good young man.”
“May we sit down?” asked Agatha.
“Oh, please do.”
John and Agatha sat in hard high-backed chairs and Mrs. Hill sank down on the edge of an armchair and looked at them with all the fascination of a bird confronted with a snake.
“He wasn’t very good at all, as it turns out,” said Agatha bluntly. “He conned a respectable businessman out of money to set up a boys’ club, and of course he kept the money. No boys’ club.”
John glared at Agatha and mouthed, “Shut up!” The business about Binser should surely be kept private.
But tears welled up in little Mrs. Hill’s eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “I’m so glad I wasn’t the only one,” she choked out. “I’ve felt such a fool.”
John passed her a large clean handkerchief and she dried her eyes and blew her nose. “Tell us about him,” said Agatha gently.
“I felt so silly, so betrayed. You see, I adored him. I saw later what must have happened. All the houses in this street are split up into flats except mine. I have the reputation of being wealthy. I am referred to as the rich Mrs. Hill. But to go back to the beginning. Tristan flattered me. He made me feel good, made me feel worthwhile. I was quite dazed by the impact he had on me. We occasionally went out together, but somewhere where no one would recognize us. He said he didn’t want me making the other women of the parish jealous. He said he cared for me. He said that he thought age difference was no barrier when two people respected each other.” She wiped away a tear. “I lived and breathed for him. Then he asked me for a donation for this boys’ club he said he was setting up. I confided in him that I had no money to spare. I lived on very little. I said I hoped my savings would last until I died. He asked me a lot of questions about how much I was worth, seemingly sympathetically. And then he stopped calling. I thought he loved me,” she wailed. “He said he loved me. And I…I would have died for him.”
She gave a great gulp and then went on. “I waited outside the vicarage one day until I saw him coming out and I asked him why he had been avoiding me. I reminded him he’d said he loved me. He laughed in my face. He said he was gay. He said a lot of things I don’t want to repeat. I could have killed him. But I didn’t.”
“Do you think he did get money out of anyone else?” asked John quietly.
“I don’t know. It was, before he came, a tiny congregation. When he preached instead of the vicar, a lot of people came but mostly silly young girls. Please, you won’t tell anyone what I’ve told you. I couldn’t bear it.”
“We won’t unless we have to,” said Agatha. “You’ve got a lot of rooms here, haven’t you?”
“Too many,” she said in a hollow voice.
“You should let a few rooms out,” said Agatha bracingly. “Give you an income.”
“But I might get, well, bad people.”
“Use an estate agent to handle the renting for you. You couldn’t charge all that much because they wouldn’t have private kitchens or bathrooms, not unless you spent a lot of money on renovation. I saw an estate agent’s out in the main road that handles rentals. They could vet the people for you. Means you wouldn’t be alone in this house either. I mean, no children, no pets; just collect the money.”
“I couldn’t…”
“Oh, yes, you could. Look, get your coat and we’ll go with you to that estate agent and see what they say.”
John Armitage wanted to question the vicar again. The vicar had deliberately lied to them about Richard Binser. He knew Binser because Binser had said he called on him. The vicar had also said that Tristan had done nothing criminal and yet he had. He had pocketed ten thousand pounds. But John had to fret with impatience while Agatha plunged happily into room rentals with Mrs. Hill, who was looking happier by the minute. A representative from the estate agent’s then had to come back to the house with them and inspect the rooms. He said for a modest sum she could have wash-basins installed in the bedrooms and allow tenants the use of the kitchen. He seemed as bossy and managing as Agatha Raisin, and Mrs. Hill was delighted to be ordered what to do. When Agatha finally decided she had done enough, a grateful and tearful Mrs. Hill hugged her and said she had given her a new start in life. Agatha said gruffly it was her pleasure, but looked every bit as bored as she was beginning to feel.
“Well, now that waste of space is over,” said John crossly, “I want to see that vicar again.”
“I had to do something for the poor soul,” snapped Agatha.
“That poor soul, as you call her, could have stabbed Tristan. We never asked her what she was doing on the night he was murdered. If you are going to be so trusting about every suspect, we may as well pack it in.”
“I’m beginning to think I don’t really know you,” said Agatha. “You’re quite nasty.”
“You don’t even know yourself, Agatha Raisin.”
“Are we going to stand here all day bickering?”
“I want to talk to that vicar again.”
“So let’s get on with it, for God’s sake!”
“I’m tired and we haven’t eaten.”
“We’ll get something after we grill the vicar. But not that pub again.”
The vicar of St. Edmund’s looked distinctly unhappy to see them again. There was no sign of his ferocious housekeeper.
“I am rather busy writing my sermon,” he began.
“We will only take a few minutes of your time, Mr. Lancing,” said Agatha. “We want to know why you lied to us.”
“Dear me. You’d better come in.”
When they were once more seated in his study, Agatha began. “You told us that Tristan had done nothing criminal. Yet he had conned Mr. Binser out of ten thousand pounds. You also told us that you did not know Mr. Binser and yet he said he called on you.”
“He did call on me but he urged me not to tell anyone how he had been fooled by Tristan. He said it would be bad for his business image. And Tristan was so truly penitent. He assured me he would pay back every penny.”
“Well, we gather he didn’t.”
“I am sorry I lied to you, but I did give Mr. Binser my solemn word that I would not say anything.”
“Is there anything else you have not told us?”
“Not that I can think of.” Mr. Lancing gave them a strained look. “Surely what I have told you is enough.” His voice became angry. “You are not the police. I should never have spoken to you in the first place. You have no authority.”
“We are merely trying to help our local vicar, Mr. Bloxby,” said John gently. “Surely you can see that. The police will not hear of anything you have told us unless it is really necessary.”
“Then would you mind leaving? You have upset me very much.”
“And that’s that,” said Agatha wearily. “Let’s get something to eat.”
They stopped at a service station on the A40 for a greasy all-day breakfast of egg, sausage and chips.
“I keep having a feeling we’re wasting our time up in London,” said John. “The murder was committed in Carsely and I’m sure our murderer lives in the village or round about.”
“No, I think the clues lie in London,” said Agatha, more out of a desire to contradict John than because she really believed it.
They took to the road again and Agatha fell asleep and did not wake until they were going through Woodstock. “Goodness, have I been asleep all that time?” she said, sitting upright.
“Yes,” said John, “and you snored terribly.”
“I’ve had enough of you for one day,” snarled Agatha. “You’re always nit-picking about something.”
“I was merely stating a fact,” he said stiffly.
Agatha stifled a yawn and thought longingly of the comfort and peace of her cottage.
When John finally drove into the village, it was to see the narrow main street almost blocked by two television vans.
“I thought the press would have given up by now,” said John.
