small faded woman in an apron. 'Mrs. Findlay?' said Charles. 'Is the captain at home?'
She peered myopically at him. 'If you're collecting for something or selling something, it's not a good time.'
'Would you tell him Sir Charles Fraith wants to speak to him about getting some hunting?'
'Of course, Sir Charles. Come in. I don't see very well without my glasses.' Charles walked in and Mrs. Findlay shut the door in Agatha's face. Agatha was just planning to kick the door when it opened again and Charles, with a broad grin on his face, said, 'Come along.'
'Stupid woman,' grumbled Agatha. 'Have I become invisible or something?'
'She doesn't see very well.'
He led her into a dark hall where a flustered Mrs. Findlay was waiting. 'My husband's in the study.'
Captain Findlay was a very tall man. Agatha guessed he might be in his seventies but he looked fit, with a lean brown face, bright brown eyes and thick grey hair.
The study was as dark as the hall and smelt strongly of wood-smoke and damp dog. There were oil paintings of hunts on the wall, rather dingy and, even to Agatha's inexpert eye, badly executed.
'Sit down,' said the captain. 'Get them some tea, Lizzie. Hop to it!'
Agatha almost expected the meek and myopic Mrs. Findlay to drop a curtsy before she left the room.
'Now, to what do I owe this visit?' asked the captain.
'We were interested in finding out your views on Tolly Trumpington-James,' said Charles.
'Why?'
'Well, he's been murdered, for a start.'
'What's it to you?'
'We both knew Tolly and Lucy-'
'Then you'll know more about them than me.'
'But you hunted with Tolly,' Charles lied. 'Surely you can tell a lot about a man's character on the hunting field.'
'That's true.' The captain, who had been standing in front of a small smouldering fire, suddenly sat down in a battered armchair. 'He was a dreadful rider. Had an old hunter like an animated sofa but he still seemed to fall off it every now and then. Lot of time wasted picking him up. But he was generous at fund-raising dinners, that sort of thing. Pathetically anxious to join in. I admired him in a way. It was no wonder he was a successful businessman, the way he stuck to hunting and kept turning up for the meets although he must have been black and blue. Wife's pretty, but a bit sulky. She turned up at various hunt dinners and glared around, smoked and drank too much. Made no effort to fit in.'
'Why should she?' asked Agatha crossly. 'It was Tolly who wanted to belong.'
'It's a wife's job to support her husband,' said the captain sharply. 'I remember when Lizzie told me she'd got a job as a secretary in Norwich. I soon put a stop to that.'
Agatha sighed and relapsed into silence, wondering if there might not be another murder soon.
'Mark my words,' the captain went on. 'The wife did it.'
'But she was in London,' said Charles gently.
'Probably got friends to lie for her. Who else would want to kill Tolly?' His eyes sharpened, 'I really don't see what all this has to do with you.'
Charles flashed a look at Agatha to warn her not to launch into a description of their detecting abilities, but Agatha appeared sunk in gloom. 'We just wanted to do what we could to help Lucy,' said Charles.
A slight frost entered the captain's fine eyes. 'I can't help you any further. Do you hunt?'
'No,' said Charles.
The frost was now pure ice. 'Thought not, even though you used it as an excuse to lie your way in here.' He got to his feet. 'I'll see you out.'
They nearly collided in the doorway with Mrs. Findlay, who was staggering under the weight of a laden tea- tray.
'What are you bringing tea for, you silly woman?' barked the captain.
'You asked for tea, dear.'
'They haven't got time. They're just going.'
'If I were married to someone like that, I'd shoot myself,' said Agatha when they were in the car.
'You nearly were.'
'What are you talking about?'
'James Lacey.'
'What! James would never behave like that.'
'Suit yourself. I think he would, given time and aging.'
'Let's talk about this case,' said Agatha testily. 'I don't think we really got anything there we didn't know.'
'Hunts are expensive and Tolly was anxious to ingratiate himself. It still points to Lucy. What if she saw all the money leaching away and knew she wasn't going to end up with much even if she found grounds to divorce him. Maybe she thieved the Stubbs first. Maybe she resented the money he paid for it and did it for revenge and then killed him in a rage.'
'She's got that alibi, and besides, cutting a man's throat isn't a female crime.'
'How could anyone creep up behind a man on a landing and slit his throat?'
'We don't know the details,' said Agatha. 'He might have been in bed, asleep, when his throat was slit, and then staggered out to the landing.'
'But wouldn't Mrs. Jackson be talking about there being blood everywhere?'
'Huh! Hardly one of the world's talkers is our Mrs. Jackson.'
'We've got visitors,' said Charles as they drove up to Lavender Cottage.
'Les girls.' Agatha saw Polly, Carrie and Harriet turning round at the sound of the car.
'Let's see if there's any more gossip,' said Charles.
The three greeted them with cries of 'Isn't it awful? Have the police been to see you again? Lucy's back from London but she's with the police.'
Agatha unlocked the door and shepherded them all through to the kitchen. 'I think we could all do with a drink,' she said. 'Charles, could you attend to them?'
Charles took their orders and vanished towards the sittingroom to collect the drinks. Three curious pairs of eyes followed his well-tailored back. 'So nice to have a man friend around at a time like this,' said Carrie. 'Are you engaged?'
Before Agatha could reply, Polly said, 'Of course they're not.'
'Why do you say that?' demanded Agatha.
'Age difference,' remarked Polly bluntly.
'Never mind my private life,' said Agatha crossly. 'What's the latest about the murder?'
'Paul Redfern, the gamekeeper, says that Tolly often confided in him and Tolly had said only the other week that he was tired of his wife complaining about the country and he had told her if she liked London so much she could go back and live there, but he wouldn't support her, she'd have to get a job,' said Harriet.
'But she has an alibi,' said Agatha, wondering how many times she was going to say that. 'She has, hasn't she?'
'Evidently so. Oh, thanks,' said Harriet, taking a glass of gin and tonic from Charles. 'One of the policemen told Paul, who told Sarah at the dried-flower shop, who told me that she says she was staying with a friend, Melissa Carson in South Ken, near the tube, something mansions or other, and they had gone out for dinner at a restaurant in the Brompton Road and then had an early night, so she couldn't have got to Norfolk. Such a pity when she's such an obvious suspect. That awful man, Hand, has been poking about and making everyone in the village feel guilty.'
'I wonder if either of them was having an affair,' mused Agatha.
'I shouldn't think so,' said Polly. 'You can't keep anything quiet around here.'
'But they may not have been carrying on with anyone in the village,' said Agatha. 'I mean, Tolly might have been having an affair with one of the wives of the huntsmen.'
'But that would mean the murderer would have to be Lucy,' protested Carrie.
