and dusted the place for fingerprints. Despite her misery about her cats, Agatha could not help comparing Fryfam to Carsely. Had this happened in Carsely, all the villagers would have gathered to offer sympathy and support. But the fairy-believers of Fryfam stayed in their burrows like hobbits.
By three in the morning, police and forensics packed up and left. Agatha and Charles sat side by side on the sofa. Agatha shivered. 'It's so cold,' she said.
'Tell you what,' said Charles. 'You stay there for a bit and I'll light this fire and get us warm and then I'll light the fires in the rooms.'
Agatha watched dully as he put fire-lighters, paper and logs on the fire and sat back on his heels, watching it blaze up. Then he picked up the empty log basket. 'I'll go out to the shed and get some more logs. You be all right?'
Agatha nodded. She stared at the dancing flames. I'm a silly woman, she thought. Why didn't I mind my own business? Why did I come to his hell-hole just to destroy my cats? Who cares who killed Tolly?
She heard the kitchen door crash open. She heard Charles come in and then he said gleefully, 'Look what I've got, Aggie.'
She twisted her head around and then jumped to her feet. For Charles was carrying Hodge and Boswell.
'Oh, thank God,' cried Agatha, the tears of relief running down her face. She patted both cats. 'Bring them into the kitchen, Charles, and I'll give them something special.'
Charles waited in the kitchen, amused, as Agatha proceeded to open a tin of pate de foie gras and then one of salmon.
'Don't kill them with kindness,' he said, and then went back down the garden, whistling, to get the logs.
Agatha was awakened by the ringing of the doorbell downstairs. She looked at her bedside clock and groaned. Eight in the morning! She struggled into her dressing-gown and hurried downstairs and the bell rang and rang. She opened the door to confront the unlovely features of Mrs. Jackson.
'Came to do yer house,' said Betty Jackson, pushing past Agatha. Agatha collected her wits. She wanted to tell this woman to get lost, but there was all that fingerprint dust.
'We had a break-in last night,' said Agatha, 'and the police were here, so there's fingerprint dust everywhere. I must go back to bed. Don't bother about the bedrooms. Just clean downstairs. Oh, and do the windows.'
'I don't do windows.'
'Do what you can,' said Agatha crossly. 'And don't bother my cats. In fact, I'll take them with me.' She looked at the cleaner curiously. 'You don't seem over-surprised.'
'It's incomers,' said Mrs. Jackson, taking off her coat. 'Never had nothing like this afore the incomers came.'
And coming from a woman who was married to a jailbird, that was a bit thick, thought Agatha. But she was too weary to argue. She scooped up her cats and went upstairs with them and plunked them on the end of the bed, climbed in herself and drifted back into sleep.
When she awoke again, it was eleven o'clock. She hurriedly washed and dressed and went downstairs, followed by the cats. She could heard Charles's voice coming from the kitchen and guessed he was talking to Mrs. Jackson. She took a look in the sitting-room. It was polished and gleaming and free of dust and the fireplace had been cleaned out and the fire reset. At least she can clean, thought Agatha.
She went into the kitchen. The conversation stopped abruptly when she opened the kitchen door. Mrs. Jackson was rinsing out a cloth at the sink and Charles had the morning papers spread out in front of him.
'Nearly finished here,' said Mrs. Jackson. 'Want me to do upstairs?'
'Yes, if you please,' said Agatha.
Charles rose. 'We're going out, Betty. Just let yourself out and lock the door.'
'How can she do that?' asked Agatha. 'I've got the key.'
'I went down to the estate agent's and got another,' said Charles. 'I've paid Betty. Come along, Aggie. You can eat later.'
'So it's Betty now,' said Agatha. 'What did you get out of her?'
'Get in the car and I'll tell you.'
'Wait a bit. Will the cats be all right?'
'I let them into the garden. They'll be fine.'
'What does she do with her children when she starts so early?'
'They get the early school bus. The school supplies free breakfasts to the children of working mothers provided they're poor enough.'
'So what did you get out of her?'
Charles pulled into a lay-by and switched off the engine. 'It's what I didn't get out of her that fascinated me. She says Lucy was a good employer.'
'Was? Isn't she working for her anymore?'
'No, she says that Lucy paid her off and very generously, too. Seems as if our Lucy is going to put the house on the market as soon as she can and says she'll get a commercial firm in to do the whole place over. But you would think that someone like Lucy would want someone in the meantime to wash the dirty dishes and Hoover. Mrs. Jackson doesn't talk much about Tolly but sticks to her story that they were a devoted couple.'
'Maybe we're wrong. Maybe they were.'
'Come on. You don't believe that.'
'No, I suppose not. Where are we going?'
'A little of Betty Jackson goes a long way. There's something about that woman that makes my flesh creep. I've been thinking about Lizzie Findlay.'
'The captain's wife? Because I thought I saw her all glammed up?'
'I suppose it's because I'm restless and can't think of anything else. Remember Lucy said something to the effect that Tolly was crawling to Lizzie.'
'Yes, but surely that was only to ingratiate himself with the captain.'
'I don't know. Take Lucy, for instance. She must spend a fortune on her appearance and she's as hard as nails. There's downtrodden Lizzie, everything that Lucy is not.'
'But she's so dowdy and faded!'
'We don't know how she shapes up if she takes a bit of care with her appearance.'
Agatha thought about Lizzie. She had not really noticed her. Myopic, wispy hair, figure hidden in shapeless garments. She shook her head. 'Not possible.'
'Let's go for a long shot. Let's drive to the captain's house and hide the car somewhere and keep an eye on things.'
The sun was shining but there was a stiff breeze blowing. 'Not for long, then,' said Agatha cautiously.
They set off again. Charles turned off a country lane near the captain's house.
'I don't know how we're going to spy on her,' complained Agatha. 'There's that long drive past the farmhouse before you even get to the captain's house.'
'Don't be defeatist. We'll think of something. Look,' said Charles, 'if we trespass on the captain's property and cross that field, we can hide in that stand of pine and get a good view of the entrance to the house.'
'What if someone sees us! We'll be awfully exposed crossing that field.'
'We'll risk it.'
'What about the dogs?'
'They like me.'
'What excuse are we going to give if we're caught?'
'We'll say we saw a rough-looking trespasser or one of those New Age travellers, and inspired by neighbourly duty we set across the field to clear them off.'
'But-'
'Come on, Aggie!'
Reluctantly, Agatha set out next to him. Charles opened a gate into the field and shut the gate behind them. 'We'll take the path around the edge of the field,' he said. 'No harm in that. It's when people walk across fields that the owners get mad.'
They walked on, Agatha looking nervously all about her. She heaved a sigh of relief when they reached the
