'Okay,' said Agatha.
'Wait a minute,' said Peter quickly. 'Perhaps you could drop into the office on Monday. We haven't got a replacement for you. We needed an expert to get this off the ground, but now with the murder and all, we could do with your services.'
'Let me have a week off,' said Agatha quickly, 'and I'll think about it.'
She and Roy left the press tent and emerged into blazing sunlight. 'Typical,' said Agatha, and then she began to cry.
Seven
Bill Wong arrived at Agatha's cottage with Chief Inspector Wilkes and a policewoman. They listened carefully to Agatha's answering service.
'She sounds agitated,' said Wilkes.
'Robina could have received more of these threatening letters,' said Agatha. 'She'd been getting them and I told her to take them to the police, but she wouldn't. I told you about them, didn't I, Bill?'
'You'd better go over again, for the chief inspector's benefit, everything you've found out.'
So Agatha began at the beginning. It all seemed such a muddle, and the idea that one of the respectable members of the Ancombe Parish Council should suddenly turn murderer was too strange to believe.
There was a ring at the doorbell.
Roy went to answer it and came back followed by James.
Agatha looked at him stonily, in her heart blaming him for her affair with Guy.
'Good,' said Bill, looking up from his notes.
'We were going to call on you, and this saves time. Do you think any of those Save Our Foxes people could be mad enough to commit murder?'
'Could be,' said James, sinking down in an armchair. 'It might explain the second murder, but surely not the first. No one knew which way old Struthers meant to vote.'
'It's a pity about Mary Owen,' said Agatha. 'She was my prime suspect. She's strong enough and nasty enough.'
'There seems enough proof that she was where she said she was, at her sister's.'
'Have you thought about, the water company?' asked James. 'They've got world-wide publicity out of today. They would have got very little if it hadn't been for the murder. No pop group. Nothing to draw them.'
'I think that's ridiculous,' said Agatha hotly.
'Well, you would.' James's voice was cold. 'But if we can keep emotional involvement out of this and look at it objectively, this publicity is worth millions to the Freemont brothers.'
'If you keep jealousy out of it,' said Roy, 'and think about it, it shouldn't do them all that much good. Two dead people dripping blood into that spring!'
'Why on earth should I be jealous?'
'Because of Aggie's ring-a-ding wish Guy Freemont.'
'Rubbish,' said James.
'There is nothing between me and Guy Free-mont,' howled Agatha.
'Oh, so his car just happens to be parked outside your cottage all night by accident,' said James nastily. 'What were you doing all night? Drinking water?'
'Get out of here!' shouted Agatha, tears starting to her eyes.
'Calm down, all of you,' said Wilkes. 'I want the three of you to report to police headquarters tomorrow morning and we'll go over it again.'
James left with the police.
'What now?' asked Roy. 'Should we think of somewhere for dinner?'
'Let's go for a drive first,' said Agatha. 'I know, we'll go into Mircester. There's a new Chinese restaurant.'
'Just look at the weather,' said Roy bitterly as a flaming sunset settled over the Cotswold Hills and the first stars glimmered faintly in a perfect sky.
'There's a curse on the whole venture,' said Agatha gloomily. 'Perhaps, after dinner, we should go for a long walk and tire ourselves out.'
'I'm tired already.' Roy yawned.
'I mean I want to be exhausted when I go to bed or I'll keep seeing dead Robina.'
They parked in the square at Mircester and walked to the Chinese restaurant. Agatha grabbed Roy's arm before he could go in and hissed, 'Look who's sitting at the window.'
Roy looked and saw a middle-aged Chinese man with a droopy moustache and what appeared to be a typical Gloucestershire housewife.
'So?'
'That's Bill Wong's parents.'
'The father's Chinese, surely. Good sign.'
'No, it's not. They like terrible food.'
'Oh, well, where to? I'm not really hungry.'
'Me neither. Let's walk for a bit.'
They set off in a westward direction, glancing aimlessly in shops, both wrapped in their own thoughts.
Finally they reached the suburbs and walked along a quiet street lined with villas.
'Am I seeing things?' asked Agatha, breaking the silence. 'Or is that Mary Owen just turning in at that gate?'
Under the light of a street lamp a little way ahead, the tall figure certainly looked like Mary Owen.
Agatha quickened her pace. 'Mary!' she called.
The woman stopped, her hand resting on the gate, and looked back at them.
'Mary!' said Agatha again.
'I am Mary's sister,' said the woman. 'I am Mrs Darcy, and who are you?'
'I am Agatha Raisin, and this is Roy Silver.'
'I have heard of you. You're that interfering busybody who fancies herself a detective. Good evening.' Mrs Darcy went in and shut the gate with a clang. Agatha and Roy walked on.
'Did you notice the remarkable resemblance?' said Agatha excitedly. 'They could be twins. Why didn't Bill say something about it?'
'So what?'
'That's how the alibi could have been established. The neighbours could have thought they were seeing Mary when in fact they were seeing Mrs Darcy.'
'Wait a bit. The curtains were drawn back on the evening of the murder. They were seen dining together.'
'But dinner doesn't take all evening.' Agatha gave a skip of excitement.
'When was it you went to the spring?'
'It was nearly midnight. They're vague about the time of death, but put it somewhere earlier in the evening. Now, when you and I think about dinnertime, we think about eight o'clock or after, but a lot of people have it much earlier.'
'We could ask the neighbours.'
'I've a feeling if we did that, Mary and her sister would report us for intrusion of privacy. We'll ask Bill tomorrow. Roy, I'd begun not to care who committed the first murder. But two! And James going ahead and investigating without me! By God, I'd like to find out who did it just to see his face.'
'I'm really tired now,' complained Roy, 'and hungry. Look at the time, Agatha.' He thrust his Rolex watch in front of Agatha's eyes. 'Eleven o'clock. A lot of the pubs are shut. We'll be lucky to find anywhere open.'
'They trudged the long way back into the centre of Mircester. The Chinese is still open.'
