pallbearers. The others looked as if they had been supplied by the undertaker.
The service began. It was simple and dignified. The vicar gave a short sermon. Old-fashioned hymns were sung. No one read a eulogy. There was no one evidently hypocritical enough to praise the dear departed.
Everyone stood while the coffin was carried out and loaded into a hearse.
Agatha and Paul followed the congregation out to the church door, where Harry and Carol stood side by side.
Agatha nervously expected an outburst but Harry said, “Thank you for coming. Carol and I would appreciate it if you would join us at Ivy Cottage for some refreshments. We would like a word in private with you.”
“Do we go to the graveside first?” asked Agatha.
“No, Mother is being cremated. The funeral people see to that.”
“This sounds hopeful,” said Agatha as they walked back to the car.
“Could be. Or maybe they just wanted to warn us off. Don’t you want your hat?”
“Leave it,” said Agatha. “Did you notice how friendly Carol and Harry seemed?”
“Could be an act,” said Paul.
“But Carol was looking almost happy. And smartly dressed.”
“Well, we’ll find out what it is they want to talk to us about.”
“If they’re friendly,” said Agatha, “we can just ask for permission to search the house.”
“Better not leave it to chance.”
They waited in the car until all the guests and finally Carol and Harry had left and then drove to Ivy Cottage.
The refreshments consisted of sherry and sandwiches. Agatha eyed them hungrily. But Paul whispered, “Get the key.”
“Then give me your car keys. I’ll need to find a key-cutting place. There’s one in Moreton.”
“Or there’s the cobbler in Blockley,” said Paul. “That would be quicker.”
Why they had imagined the key would simply be there, dangling in the lock, was beyond Agatha. Furthermore, there were four locks on the front door. She went through to the kitchen in the back premises but found two women cutting sandwiches and arranging them on plates and retreated.
Paul looked at her in surprise when she rejoined him. “That was quick.”
“I haven’t been anywhere,” said Agatha crossly. “We should have realized they wouldn’t just leave the keys in the door and the front door has four locks.”
“We’ll need to rely on their goodwill. Have a sandwich and I’ll see if there’s a simpler way in from the back.”
“I tried that. There’s women in the kitchen.”
“Nonetheless, I’ll look around.”
Paul left and Agatha was joined by Percy Fleming. “I’m surprised to see you here,” said Agatha.
“I like attending funerals,” he fluted. “I bring the sombre note and ritual into my books.”
“I don’t see Peter Frampton here,” said Agatha, looking around.
“Oh, the historical-society man. He goes to events in Towdey Church because he’s from Towdey.”
“Who’s that girl with him, Zena something?”
“Zena Saxon. She just appeared, so to speak. Wonderful wardrobe, don’t you think? Today’s outfit was pure sixties commune.”
“But where’s she from?”
“She’s got a cottage in Towdey, left to her last year by an aunt. Where she was before, I don’t know. She and Peter are an item. Quite shocking, considering the age difference.”
“He’s a handsome fellow.”
“But Stagey-looking, don’t you think?” Percy often seemed to put capital letters on some of his words. “Quite obsessed with the seventeenth century. Oh, here’s that dreary copper.” He moved away and his place was taken by Detective Inspector Runcorn.
“I hope you’re not doing anything to interfere with our investigations,” he said.
“Simply paying our respects.”
“A word of warning to you, Mrs. Raisin. It’s only in books that old biddies from villages can help the police. In real life, they’re a pain in the arse.”
“Just like you,” said Agatha savagely. “Bog off.”
“I’m warning you.”
Agatha turned and walked away. She went up to Carol, who had just said goodbye to Greta Handy, and whispered, “You wanted to see us?”
“Could you wait a moment? The others will be leaving soon.”
But it was an hour before everyone left and Agatha was just thinking she would have to deal with Harry and Carol on her own when Paul reappeared.
“Right,” said Harry after he had said goodbye to the last guest. “Please sit down.”
Agatha, tired of standing, sank gratefully into an armchair.
“It’s like this,” said Harry. “Although I have an alibi, the police still suspect me. Neither Carol nor I can get any money until we’re totally cleared.”
“I thought Carol didn’t inherit anything.”
Carol threw her brother a radiant smile. “Dear Harry’s arranged with the lawyers that I get half of everything. We got talking, you see, and found out how Mother had deliberately turned us against each other.”
“If you do get the money,” said Agatha, looking at Harry, “will you keep on your business?”
“No, I’ll sell it. I was pretty successful until the last two years. Rising business rates and falling sales have crippled me. I spent too much money at auctions buying antiques that no one seems to want.”
“So what did you want to see us about?” asked Paul.
“The police aren’t trying hard enough because they think it’s me or Carol. I remember reading about you, Mrs. Raisin. So we want you to find out who killed Mother. When we get the money, we’ll pay you for your trouble.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Agatha with the airy unconcern of the new rich, “we’ve been investigating anyway. What we did wonder is if you could let us explore the house. You see, whoever was trying to frighten your mother must have found a way of getting in here. Might be a secret passage or something like that.”
“Perhaps later,” said Harry, after a glance at his sister. “We need to finish up here.”
“Then if we borrowed the keys from you, we could come back when no one’s around,” said Paul.
“I don’t think you need to do that,” said Carol. “I mean, the question is, who murdered her?”
“But don’t you see,” said Agatha, exasperated, “if it wasn’t you or Harry, then someone else must have had a way of getting inside the house.”
Harry rose to his feet. “Carol and I are feeling a bit shaky after the funeral. Can we leave things for the moment?” And without waiting for a reply, we walked across the room and held the door open for them.
“Well!” exclaimed Agatha as they got in the car. “What did you make of that?”
“Very odd,” said Paul. “I mean, they want us to find the murderer and then they both stick their heels in at the very idea we might want to search the house. Never mind, I’ve got a key.”
“You have! How? Where from?”
“There are two doors out to the back. One from the kitchen, which has several locks and bolts, but there is one from a scullery. It’s a dusty old door and I don’t think it’s been used for years. But it had a key in the lock. I slid it out. I told the women working in the kitchen that I’d dropped my notebook when we were ghost-hunting, which gave me an excuse to search around. Once I’d got the key, I broke the speed limit to Moreton and got it copied. So let’s try tonight.”
“Pity we’ll need to crawl around with pencil torches.”
“I’ve been thinking about that. Neither Carol nor Harry lives near here. Unless you were actually walking past the house, you wouldn’t be able to see any lights. We’ll switch them on and start our search. If anyone does happen to be, say, walking their dog in the middle of the night and gets suspicious, they’ll ring the bell at the front and we can beat a retreat from the back.”
Agatha was suddenly mesmerized by his arm nearest her on the wheel. He had slung his jacket in the back of the car before driving off. It was a tanned and muscular arm. She felt a strong sexual frisson and then she
