'What?'
'Fact. I meant to, but it slipped my mind. You'd gone up to bed first and I thought I'd watch a bit of television and then lock up, but I didn't.'
'Still, he's got a point,' said Agatha. 'Why leave it with us?'
'I shouldn't be telling you this.' Framp drained his pint and looked at the empty glass soulfully. 'I'll get you another,' said Charles quickly. He returned with a brimming pint and asked eagerly, 'What aren't you supposed to tell us?'
'It's like this. Hand thinks it's odd that Mrs. Raisin here should have been writing a book called Death at the Manor in which a chap gets his throat cut with a razor, and bingo, we've got Mr. Trumpington-James with his throat cut. So he's beginning to think that no one put that Stubbs in your kitchen. You pair stole it and got rattled and decided to concoct a story about someone having left it there.'
'That's ridiculous!' Agatha was pink in the face with outrage.
'He's looking into your finances to see if you were badly in need of money.'
'This gets better,' said Charles, looking amused. 'So after we steal the painting, Tolly guesses it's us, and phones us up or something and we panic and nip up there and slit his throat with a safety razor which we just happen to have with us.'
'Well, Hand says that county types like you, Sir Charles, often use an old-fashioned open razor.'
'You know what I think,' said Agatha. 'I think someone panicked-not us-but knew the way Hand's mind was working and decided to get rid of a painting they didn't have the knowhow to sell and make us look guilty.'
'Far-fetched, that,' said Framp.
'Thinking we're murderers is a damn sight more farfetched,' raged Agatha.
'Calm down,' admonished Charles. 'It's a hoot.'
But Agatha was suddenly thinking of James. Was he back? And how could she leave this village now that she was a murder suspect? She had not thought of him much, but now she did not have the freedom to leave Fryfam any time she wanted, he came rushing back into her mind.
'I've left my cigarettes,' said Agatha, getting to her feet. 'I'll nip home and get them.'
'I'll get you some at the bar. Sit down,' said Charles.
Amazement at this new generous Charles momentarily diverted Agatha, but as he returned with her cigarettes, she remembered she had her mobile phone in her handbag.
'Got to go to the ladies' room,' she said brightly. 'Where is it, I wonder?'
'Over there, under that sign saying `Ladies' ' replied Charles, looking at her suspiciously. Why was Agatha such a mixture of excitement and guilt?
Agatha went into the old-fashion ladies' room with its giant Victorian wash-basin, brass taps, and toilet with the huge brass pull-chain hanging down beside it.
She dialled Mrs. Bloxby's number. The vicar's wife answered. 'Oh,' she said, her voice a little distant. 'How are you?'
Agatha told her about the finding of the Stubbs and then asked, 'James back?'
'Well, yes, he came back today.'
'Have you seen him?'
'As a matter of fact, he's just left.'
'Did he ask for me?'
'He asked about the murder. He'd read about it in the newspaper.'
Agatha clutched the phone tightly. 'Nothing James likes more than a mystery. He'll be coming here, I suppose.'
'He said he wouldn't be.'
'What? Just like that? He said, `I will not be going to Norfolk to see Agatha'?'
'I can't remember the exact words. I've got to go. Alf is calling me. 'Bye.'
Agatha was so miserable that she joined Charles and Framp still holding the mobile phone in one hand. Charles stared at it, and Agatha blushed and thrust it into her handbag.
Mrs. Bloxby went into her sitting-room and sat staring at the fire. Was it a sin to lie when that lie was for someone's good? James Lacey had actually said, 'I miss Agatha. I think I'll take a trip to this Fryfam place.'
And Mrs. Bloxby remembered herself saying, 'She's with Sir Charles.' And the way James's face had gone a bit set and grim and how he had gone on to talk of other things.
But Mrs. Bloxby was fond of Agatha and she felt that James Lacey would destroy Agatha's independent spirit. But, she thought miserably, she should not have told James about Charles. James would have gone to Fryfam and it would be obvious there was really nothing going on between Charles and Agatha. Anyway, there was an age difference of about ten years between them, thought Mrs. Bloxby naively, and that meant there would could not possibly be any affair. Mrs. Bloxby sighed. Telling James about Charles had been interference in Agatha's life and she had no right at all to interfere. If she had said, 'Charles is over there with her,' then that would have been all right because James must have seen Charles's name in the newspapers. But to say, 'She's with Sir Charles,' abruptly and in that warning way. That was lying. She heard her husband come in.
'What's up?' asked the vicar. 'You look gloomy.'
But she could no longer confide in him about Agatha. Alf did not like Agatha and would not understand her motives.
SEVEN
AGATHA and Charles were glad that Framp had warned them of Hand's suspicions, so neither was particularly surprised when they found themselves borne off in a police car to headquarters.
They were interviewed separately. Under Hand's remorseless questioning, Agatha began to wonder if people actually caved in and confessed to crimes they had not committed, because he was almost making her believe she had done it. She was trying to control her temper, but was just about to crack and call him every name under the sun when they were interrupted. Tristan Tomley had arrived to represent both Agatha and Charles.
He joined Agatha at the table. Hand's questioning lost its belligerence and Agatha, glad of the support and wishing she had had the sense to demand a solicitor before Charles had thought of it, answered all his questions calmly.
At last she read and signed a statement and was free to go. 'You'll need to wait for Charles,' said Tommers breezily. 'Got to sit in on his questioning.'
Agatha waited patiently on a hard chair by the front desk. She tried to conjure up a dream about herself and James, but the dream would not come. She remembered instead all James's coldness and anger, the way he would make love to her without saying a word. It's over at last, she told herself.
'Would you like a cup of tea?' asked the desk sergeant.
'No, thank you.'
The desk sergeant straightened up and then groaned. 'My joints are killing me,' he said. 'Don't you find when you get to our age that your knees and ankles ache the whole time?'
'No,' replied Agatha curtly. That's all I need on this awful morning, she thought, to be reminded of my age by some fatgutted copper whose joints would not ache so much if he lost some weight.
At last Charles appeared with Tommers. 'Thank God that's over. Drink, Tommers?'
'Not me. I've got an appointment with a client. I'll be in touch.'
Charles turned to Agatha. 'Best smile,' he said. 'The press are outside. Some copper told me it's leaked out that we are helping the police with their inquiries.'
'Isn't there a back way?'
'Oh, let's just face the music.'
'Isn't a police car going to take us home?'
'That's an idea.' Charles went up to the desk and asked if they could have a car to take them back to Fryfam.
'Detective Chief Inspector Hand ordered one, sir, and if I'm not mistaken, it's outside the door.'
