“Highly unlikely. Here she conies.”
Mrs. Dairy returned and proceeded to pour tea that looked like discoloured water. Agatha guessed that she had only used one tea-bag in the pot and probably one that had been used already. There was a plate of hard biscuits.
Mrs. Dairy seemed to have recovered most of her old composure-or nastiness, as Agatha judged it to be.
“While I was making the tea,” said Mrs. Dairy, “I was thinking of your so-called detective abilities. I have a shrewd inquiring mind and I am sure I could find out who did it.”
“You mean you want to work with us?” asked Agatha with a sinking heart.
She gave a pitying laugh. “Oh, no. As the bard says, she travels fastest who travels alone.”
“It was Kipling,” corrected Charles. “ ‘He travels fastest who travels alone.’ ”
“Whatever.”
Agatha put her teacup down in the saucer with an angry little click. “Then we will not waste any more of your valuable time.” She got to her feet. Charles rose as well.
“We could compare notes,” said Mrs. Dairy graciously.
“Oh, but that would surely impede your progress.” Agatha headed resolutely for the door. Charles followed her outside. The dog ran after Agatha and began to snuffle eagerly at her ankles again. She picked it up, placed it inside and firmly shut the door. “Horrid little thing. Let’s get home, Charles, so I can disinfect my contaminated shoe.”
After Agatha had washed her feet and put on clean tights and shoes, she j6ined Charles in the kitchen and said, “Portsmouth.”
“What about it?”
“That’s where he used to have a business. We could go there and talk to hairdressers and see if there was any scandal about him.”
“Now? What if the police come calling?”
“So what? We’re not leaving the country.”
“Do you know Portsmouth? Huge place.”
“We’ll get a hotel and look through the Yellow Pages and phone up hairdressers.”
“Waste of time, Aggie. We go to Mircester Library and look up the Yellow Pages for Portsmouth and phone from here.”
Agatha sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I just wanted to get away.”
“Cheer up. If we find out anything on the phone, then we’ll go.”
Just then, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Bloxby. “I think I may have discovered your Maggie for you.”
“Who is she?” said Agatha eagerly. “Where does she live?”
“I may be wrong but I think you want a Maggie Henderson. She lives at nine, Terrace Road, in Badsey. She’s a schoolteacher.”
“How did you find out?”
“I simply give her description, such as it was, and her first name to various people in the surrounding parishes. It may turn out to be the wrong Maggie.”
“We’ll try anyway. Thanks a lot.”
Agatha said goodbye and rang off. She told Charles her news.
“Let’s leave Portsmouth for just now and try this Maggie,” he said. “Badsey’s only a few miles away.”
But when they drove to Badsey and found the correct address it was to find that Maggie Henderson taught at a school at Worcester and was not expected back until about five o’clock. “And with our luck,” said Agatha gloomily, “her husband will be home at the same time. Do we go to Worcester?”
“No,” said Charles. “Let’s go into Evesham and find a place for coffee and make notes on what we’ve got.”
They parked in Merstow Green and walked across the road to a tea-shop off the Market Square. “Look at this!” exclaimed Charles. “The last genuine old English tea-shop in captivity.” It was low-beamed, quiet and dark. A waitress with a gentle Scottish accent took their order.
“Now,” said Charles, taking out a small notebook and a pen, “let’s see what we’ve got in the way of suspects. Begin at the beginning, Aggie. Anything you can think of.”
Agatha rested her chin on her hands. “Let me see, what made me suspect him of being a blackmailer in the first place? Ah, I know. I told you. I heard some woman threatening to kill him when I was in the loo at the hairdresser’s. John said it was a couple in the shop next door who were always quarrelling. But although I could hear her voice, I couldn’t distinguish the voice of the man. He kept his low. It could’ve been John.”
“Right.” He made a note. “We’ll check out that shop afterwards. Next.”
“Wait a bit. He told me he had been married once. That’s a thought. I wonder if he had any children and who inherits.”
“We’ll try to find out.”
“There was another candidate for blackmail. There was a customer talking to him about her daughter Betty. She said she thought her daughter was not only on drugs but pushing them as well. Her husband was called Jim.”
“Good. More.”
“Then we now know about Mrs. Dairy, Maggie, and Liza Friendly. Wait a bit. There’s Josie.”
“Who’s she?”
“Vapid little receptionist. Seemed besotted with John and very jealous of me.”
“Ah,” said Charles, making another note. “I think I should handle that one. I’ll get my hair cut and chat her up. That way I can pick up the gossip about the customers.”
“Then,” said Agatha, “do you remember how Liza was telling us about watching the house and she saw this blonde? How did she describe her? Blonde, I think, rabbity, prominent teeth, skinny legs. I think that’s all we’ve got.”
“So there’s one of these suspects or maybe someone we haven’t heard of who had the keys to his house. Remember, you didn’t hear anyone breaking in… unless… Oh, why didn’t we think of the obvious?”
“What?”
“I bet when you let yourself in you didn’t lock the door behind you.”
Agatha goggled at him.
“Think!” urged Charles. “Was it a Yale, the kind that would automatically click shut and lock behind you?”
“No,” said Agatha slowly. “It was a mortise. Biggish key.”
“Then that explains that.”
Agatha clutched his arm. “Don’t you see, if someone knew just to walk in, they must have known I was in there!”
“Could be. Or maybe someone just tried the handle first and meant to break in if the door was locked. Did it have glass panes?”
“Yes, those stained-glass ones. You know, Charles, I think we might be concentrating too hard on the blackmailing angle.”
“What other angle is there?”
“Oh, passion and jealousy. Jealous woman, jealous husband. Remember, someone did beat him up.”
“Stick to blackmail,” said Charles in an authoritative manner which made Agatha long to prove him wrong.
“If you’ve finished,” said Agatha huffily, “let’s try that shop next door to the hairdresser’s. Wait a bit. Surely the hairdresser’s will be closed down?”
“Damn, of course it will be.”
“Let’s take a look anyway.”
They walked along the High Street. Sure enough, the hairdresser’s was closed and dark.
“We’ll try the shop next door,” said Charles.
They both entered a small dark shop which sold an assortment of cheap souvenirs.
There was an enormous woman behind the counter dressed in a man’s shirt and leggings. They could see the leggings because she was bending over to pick up something from the bottom shelves behind the counter.
“Excuse me,” began Agatha. The woman straightened up and turned round.
She had a large, round, truculent face and thick glasses. What d’ye want?” she snapped.
