Leamington, and when I didn't believe him, he finally came out with the truth. He was a gambler, a dedicated gambler. Not only had he spent all the money I had given him in gambling but he needed more to pay his debts. I refused. He grew ugly. He told me he had only married an old bat like me for my money. Yes, I could have killed him then. But I wanted free of him and so I made him agree to a separation and subsequent divorce. If he did not agree, I said, I would tell Peter Rice all about him'
'So' said James, 'one of his ladies could have murdered him because he conned money out of them'
'Surely that's hardly a reason for murder' protested Bunty.
'Oh, yes, it is' said Agatha, thinking of Jack Pomfret.
'So now you've got what you want from me' said Greta in a tired voice, 'may I go?'
'Of course, my dear' said Bunty 'But you must realize how essential it is to find out who did this terrible thing'
Greta stood up. 'Why? Why is it so important? He died painlessly. He was cruel and useless'
'But there is the murder of Mrs Josephs' said Agatha quietly. 'You must have read about that'
'Yes, but what's that got to do with Paul?'
'She said she was going to tell me all about him' said Agatha, 'and the next day she was dead'
Greta shook her head in bewilderment. 'I cannot bring myself to believe that Paul's death was anything other than an accident. I don't know this Josephs woman - I mean I didn't know her. Possibly her death is unrelated' Her voice shook. 'I've done what I can for you. Please don't trouble me again'
There was a long silence after she had left. Then, 'Poor woman' said Bunty.
'Perhaps' Agatha laced her fingers tightly round the coffee mug. 'On the other hand, she surely had the most reason to kill Paul. She would know about Immobilon. Perhaps she would have access to Adrenalin, if he had left any of his drugs behind when he left her'
'You're forgetting about the break-in at the surgery' James pointed out.
'The police seem to think that might have been done
'So many women. So many suspects' mourned James. 'But we have taken up enough of your time, Bunty'
They thanked her and left.
'We've got one thing' said Agatha, as they drove off. 'Money, not passion, seems to be at the bottom of things. Look, Jack Pomfret didn't get any money out of me, right? But the very fact that he tried to trick me, the fact that he has the gall to phone me up makes me want to murder him, gives me a mad hatred and fear of him. Can you understand that?'
'Yes, I think so. If any of these women, I mean any of our suspects, apart from Greta, paid up, there would be a motive. We could go to Mircester and ask Peter Rice what happened to Paul Bladen's deposit book'
Agatha agreed, delighted at an opportunity of more time in his company.
The evening surgery at the vet's in Mircester was just closing. Peter Rice greeted them this time amiably enough but scoffed when they asked if he had any of Paul Bladen's bankbooks.
'I cleared all his papers out and made a bonfire of them' he said. Tve put the house up for sale. I could hardly sell it with all his junk around. I asked Greta if she wanted anything but she didn't, so I gave his clothes to charity and the contents of the house are being sold with it.'
'Which was his bank?' asked James.
'The Cotswold and Gloucester. But bank managers don't reveal anything about their customers' accounts, even when they're dead, as far as I know.'
'You didn't happen to notice if Paul had received any large sums from women recently?' asked Agatha.
He gave a jolly laugh. 'He was hardly young enough to be a toy boy. The lawyers will only pass over to me what is left after their bill and the funeral costs have been settled. I'm afraid his banking affairs have gone to the grave with him. But why do you ask? Hadn't been ripping you off, had he?'
'Just curious' said Agatha. 'I mean it is odd, now that it's turned out someone murdered Mrs Josephs. I mean, it definitely makes Paul Bladen's death look like murder.'
'Not to me' said Peter. 'Pendlebury asked me to do that operation and I said I would never touch Immobilon again'
'Let's get something to eat' suggested James when they had left the surgery.
They chose a nearby pub - but not the one where Agatha had ruined the hand basin - and began to discuss the suspects, or rather, Agatha discussed the suspects while a preoccupied James frowned into his beer.
'I don't believe you've been listening to a word I've been saying,' said Agatha crossly.
'I've been half-listening. The fact is I've been thinking about committing a crime'
'You?'
'Yes. I've been thinking about breaking into the Cots wold and Gloucester Bank'
'But that's impossible. There'll be sophisticated burglar alarms and laser beams and pressure pads and God knows what else'
'Perhaps not. Let's finish our food and drink and go and take a look at it'
The bank was a converted shop in a side street where old Tudor buildings with overhanging eaves crowded out the night sky above.
'Burglar alarm of course' said James. 'We'll take a look round the back if we can get there'
They found a lane which ran along the back of a row of shops and the bank. There were a series of lock-ups, garages, and tall wooden fences, all having a closed, impregnable air.
James counted along. 'This is the back of the bank' he said, 'what used to be the garden. Surely they wouldn't wire up this wooden door in the wall.'
He took a small wallet of credit cards out of his pocket. Agatha bit back the impatient remark she was about to make - that apart from in the movies, she had never seen anyone open a lock with a credit card. He selected one.
Agatha turned away and looked along the lane, which was lit with sodium lamps, making everything look unreal, and, she thought more practically, probably making her lips look purple.
There was a click and she swung round. The door in the wall was standing open. 'Amazing,' said Agatha.
'Let's get inside before someone sees us' whispered James.
Agatha followed him in. He closed the door behind them and took out a pencil torch. 'You've done this before' accused Agatha.
He didn't reply but led the way up a narrow path between two strips of lawn. 'Look' he murmured, 'there's a kitchen at the back'
'What does a bank want a kitchen for?'
'Make tea for the staff. Left over from when it used to be a shop. Now, let me see . . '
The thin beam of the torch flicked up and down the building. 'I don't see any sign of an alarm here' he said. Tm going to have a go. Be prepared to make a run for it.'
'But we might not hear any alarm' said Agatha in an agony of nerves. It might just ring inside the police station'
'Where's your sense of adventure?' he mocked.
He took out the card again. Agatha prayed that he would not be able to get the door open. She imagined police cars swooping up the lane, police with loud-hailers; the reproachful eyes of Bill Wong. But all she heard was James's voice saying softly, 'It's open. Come on'
Now Agatha's heart was hammering so hard, she felt sure it could be heard for miles. The kitchen door closed behind them, the torch beam flickered rapidly to right and left. James opened a door leading out of the kitchen and led the way through.
They found themselves in a square room full of desks and computers. 'The office' said James, 'which is all we need. Just as well. Look at that door over there. That's the one into the bank proper, where the money is'
Agatha shivered. There was an alarm box over the door and a steady red light glared down on them like an infuriated eye.
'Now' he said, 'make yourself comfortable. This might take some time. There are no windows in this room except for that one through to the main bank, which is just as well, for the light from the computer screen could
