about interior decoration these days?'
'Ah, your friends who came at the weekend, the prancing one and the one with the cowboy boots?'
'You've been spying on me!'
'Not I. I was off duty and took a girlfriend to Bourton-on-the-Water. A great mistake. I'd forgotten about the holiday crowds.'
'I can't imagine you having a girlfriend.'
'Oh! Why?'
'I don't know. I always imagine you as never being off duty.' 'In any case said Bill, 'I hope you haven't decided to become the Miss. Marple of Carsely and are still trying to prove accident as murder.'
Agatha opened her mouth to tell him about Mrs. Cartwright and then decided against it. He would criticize her for interfering and he would point out, probably correctly, that Mrs. Cartwright had nothing to tell and was simply out for money.
Instead she said, 'An odd thing happened at Warwick Castle. Steve, the young man with the cowboy boots, took a video film of me and Roy, that's the other young man, on the top of one of the towers. He showed the video on television in the evening and there on the tower was this woman glaring at me with hatred.'
'Interesting. But you could have jostled her on the stairs or trodden on her foot.'
'He took a photograph from the television set and it's quite clear, and we were talking about the death when he filmed. Would you like to see it?'
'Yes, might be someone I know.'
Agatha brought in the print and handed it to him. He studied it carefully. 'No one I've seen before,' he said, ' if you took that nasty look off her face, she would look like hundreds of other women in the Cotswold villages: thin, spinsterish, wispy hair, indeterminate features, false teeth 'How do you know about the false teeth, Sherlock?'
'You can always tell by the drooping corners of the mouth and by the way the jaw sags. Mind if I keep this?' 'Why?' demanded Agatha.
'Because I might find out who it is and do you a favour by revealing to you that Miss. Prim here was merely offended by your friends or perhaps you reminded her of someone she hated in her past, and then you can be easy.' That is kind of you,' said Agatha gruffly. 'I'm beginning to get edgy what with her next door glaring at me over the garden fence because I took her char away.'
'I wouldn't worry about her. Taking someone's cleaning woman away is like mugging them. The trouble with businesswomen like yourself, Mrs. Raisin, is that your normally very active brain has nothing left to feed on but trivia. After a few months, believe me, you will settle down and get involved in good works.'
'Heaven forbid,' said Agatha with a shudder.
'Why? Had I suggested bad works, would you have been pleased?'
T'm going to a meeting of the Carsely Ladies' Society at the vicarage tonight,' said Agatha.
That should be fun,' said Bill with his eyes twinkling. 'And now I'd better go. I'm on late duty.'
After a meal at the Red Lion giant sausage and chips liberally doused with ketchup Agatha walked to the vicarage and rang the bell. From inside came the hum of voices. She felt suddenly nervous and yes, a little timid.
Mrs. Bloxby answered the door. 'Come in, Mrs. Raisin. Most people have arrived.' She led Agatha into the sitting-room, where about fifteen women were seated. They stopped talking and looked curiously at Agatha. 'I'll introduce you,' said Mrs. Bloxby. Agatha tried to remember the names but they kept sliding out of her mind as soon as each was announced. Mrs. Bloxby offered Agatha tea, cakes and sandwiches. Agatha helped herself to a cucumber sandwich.
'Now, if we are all ready,' said Mrs. Bloxby, ' chairwoman, Mrs. Mason, will begin. The floor is yours, Mrs. Mason.'
Mrs. Mason, a large woman in a purple nylon dress and big white shoes like canoes, surveyed the room. 'As you know, ladies, our old people in the village do not get out much. I am appealing to any of you with cars to step in and volunteer to take some of them on an outing when you can manage it. I will read out the names of the old people and volunteer if you can manage some free time.'
There seemed to be no shortage of volunteers as Mrs. Mason went through a list in her hand. Agatha looked around at the other women.
There was something strangely old-fashioned about them with their earnest desire to help. All were middle- aged apart from a thin, pale-looking girl in her twenties who was seated next to Agatha. 'Ain't got no car,' she whispered to Agatha. 'Can hardly take them on me bike.' 'And now,' said Mrs. Mason, ' but not least, we have old Mr. and Mrs. Boggle at Culloden.'
There was a long silence. The fire behind Mrs. Mason's ample figure crackled cheerfully, spoons clinked against tea cups, jaws munched. No volunteers.
'Come now, ladies. Mr. and Mrs. Boggle would love a trip somewhere.
Needn't be too far. Even just into Evesham and around the shops.' Agatha thought she felt the vicar's wife's eyes resting on her. Her voice sounded odd in her own ears as she heard herself saying, 'I'll take them. Would Thursday be all right?'
Did she sense a feeling of relief in the room? 'Why, thank you, Mrs. Raisin. How very good of you. Perhaps you do not know the village very well, but Culloden is number 28, Moreton Road, on the council estate. Shall we say nine o'clock on Thursday, and I shall take it on myself to tell Mr. and Mrs. Boggle?'
Agatha nodded.
'Good. They will be so pleased. Now, as you know, next week we are to be hosted by the Mircester Ladies' Society and they have promised us an exciting time. I will pass around a book and sign your names in it if you wish to go. Retford Bus Company is giving us a bus for the day.'
The book was passed round. After some hesitation, Agatha signed her name. It would be something to do.
'Right,' said Mrs. Mason. 'The coach will leave from outside here at eleven in the morning. I am sure we will all be awake by that time.'
Dutiful laughter. 'And so I will get our secretary, Miss. Simms, to read out the minutes of our last meeting in case any of you missed it.'
To Agatha's surprise, the young girl next to her rose and went to face the company. In a droning nasal voice she read out the minutes. Agatha stifled a yawn. Then the treasurer gave a lengthy report of money raised at the last fete in aid of Cancer Research.
Agatha was nearly asleep when she heard her own name. The treasurer had been replaced by Mrs. Bloxby. 'Yes,' said the vicar's wife, ' our new member, Mrs. Raisin, came with boxes and boxes of stuff and gave them all away to be sold for charity, I thought I would show you some of the items. I think they warrant a special sale.'
Agatha felt gratified as oohs and ahs greeted the toby-jugs and bits of burnished farm machinery. 'Reckon I'd buy some o' that me self said one of the women.
'I am glad you share my enthusiasm,' said Mrs. Bloxby. 'I suggest we should take the school hall for the tenth of June, that's a Saturday, and put these items on display. The week before the sale, we will have a special pricing meeting. That will also give us time to find some extra items. Mrs. Mason, can I ask you to run the tea-room as usual?'
Mrs. Mason nodded.
'Mrs. Raisin, perhaps you might like to take command of the main stall?'
Tell you what,' said Agatha. 'I'll auction them. I'll be auctioneer.
People always pay more when they are bidding against each other.'
'What a good idea. All in favour?' Hands were raised.
'Excellent. The money will go to Save the Children. Perhaps, if we are lucky, some of the local papers might put in an item.' 'I'll see to that,' said Agatha, feeling better by the minute. This was like old times.
Her happiness was dimmed when the business was over; the women were gathering up their coats and handbags when Miss. Simms nudged her and said, 'Better you than me.'
'You mean the auction?'
'Naw, them Boggles. Grouchiest old miseries this side o' Gloucester.'
But somehow Mrs. Bloxby was there and had heard the remark. She smiled into Agatha's eyes and said, 'What a good deed to give the Boggles an outing. Old Mrs. Boggle has bad arthritis. It will mean so very much to
