unit has arrived and is outside the house. I will summon you for questioning, one at a time. You first, Mrs Raisin. Follow me.'
White, stricken faces watched as Agatha followed Wilkes from the room.
Charles stifled a yawn. He was suddenly bored. He wondered how soon he could leave.
In the police unit, Wilkes faced Agatha. 'Begin at the beginning,' he said.
Agatha told him again about the letter and then about the will and the threat to leave the money in the will to the founding of a technical college. She then told him about Phyllis's plan to sell the house and estate also to fund the technical college and how the villagers were riled up.
Wilkes then asked her what they had eaten. 'We had individual bowls of salad,' said Agatha. 'Maybe someone prepared a special bowl for Mrs Tamworthy. When she rose from the dining table it was as if she were drunk. She could hardly walk. Does it cause a form of paralysis?'
'I gather from the pathologist,' said Wilkes, 'that a strong dose of poison hemlock would gradually paralyse the whole body. Her mind would remain acute until the end. There was no bell beside the bed and no way of summoning help.'
'Couldn't she shout?'
'No, her vocal cords would have been paralysed. A smaller dose and she might have had fever and vomiting to alert someone.'
'It was a grated salad,' said Agatha.
'The root of poison hemlock looks a good bit like parsnip,' said Wilkes. 'Have you any idea, Mrs Raisin, which one of them might have committed the murder?'
'At the moment, I think it's possible all of them might have been able to do it. Charles and I went to the pub for a meal but before we went Fran was coming out of Mrs Tamworthy's room. She said she looked all right. Oh, and Fran was furious about being disinherited--well, not exactly disinherited, but Phyllis planned to build a technical college using the money from the sale of the estate and leave the college to the state--and chucked her bowl of salad into the fireplace. Two women from the village had served dinner. Dinner was in the middle of the day. Mind you, I think they went off after they had cleared up. Mrs Tamworthy seemed proud that she had created the salads herself. And where did she get the plant root? I swear there was nothing in her hands when she left the dining room.'
'And daughter Sadie's family left after lunch?'
'Yes, and Annabelle, as well.' Agatha hesitated. She wondered whether to tell Wilkes about listening at the window but decided against it. She was aware of Bill Wong, her friend, watching her impassively.
'That will be all for now,' said Wilkes, 'but I may want to talk to you later.' He turned to a waiting constable. 'Tell Sir Charles Fraith to step over.'
Agatha got hurriedly to her feet. She must warn Charles not to say anything about listening at the window.
But Wilkes said, 'Just a moment. I noticed none of them seemed particularly grief-stricken. There's not a chance they could all have been in it together?'
'I don't know,' said Agatha.
'Remember, anything you hear or find out, you must tell me.'
'Yes, yes.' Agatha hurried out to find Charles being escorted by the constable.
'A word, Charles,' she said.
'Later,' said Charles and walked on into the mobile police unit.
A change had overtaken the family when Agatha returned to the drawing room. Sadie, Sir Henry, Fran, Bert, Alison and Jimmy were all registering grief for the first time.
'Poor Mother!' wailed Fran as soon as she saw Agatha and put a handkerchief up to her suspiciously dry eyes. Sadie was genuinely crying, as was Jimmy. Bert looked white and strained, as did his wife. Sir Henry was pacing up and down, muttering, 'Terrible, terrible.'
'It must have been one of those villagers,' said Alison. 'They've been holding meetings and plotting for ages. Anyone can just walk into the kitchen by the side door.'
'But Mother didn't make up the salads until just before tea,' said Fran.
'How do you know that?' asked Agatha.
'I went into the kitchen to try to make her see sense,' said Fran. 'It's no use you all looking at me like that. I didn't touch the salad.'
The wind had gradually been rising and was now howling around the building.
Suddenly the lights went out.
'There are candles in the kitchen,' said Fran, 'but we're not allowed to leave the room.'
'There's an oil lamp over there,' said Jimmy. 'I'll light it.'
There came the scraping sound of a match being lit and then the oil lamp blossomed into light, sending out a golden glow.
'The police van's still lit up,' remarked Sir Henry.
'They've got a generator,' said Alison.
The door opened and Charles came in, followed by the constable.
'Lady Field,' said the constable, 'you're next.'
'I'll come with her,' said Sir Henry.
'My orders were to take only Lady Field,' said the constable firmly.
'Come on, Aggie.' Charles patted her on the head. 'We can go.'
'Just like that!'
'Just like that. Come on. Let's go upstairs and pack. Some policewoman's waiting to escort us to make sure we don't poison anyone on the road out.'
As soon as they were in the car, Agatha said, 'I didn't tell them about listening at the window'
'I did,' said Charles.
Agatha wailed, 'Now I'll get a rocket!'
'Why didn't you tell them?'
'It seemed so sneaky.'
'You're a detective. You're expected to be sneaky. Anyway, Bill's going to call on us in the morning to take a full statement.'
Chapter Five
Toni lay in bed in her little flat and listened to the rain drumming on the roof. She wondered if her brother or mother would contact the police. But after some worrying, she doubted it. Agatha would explain why she had ridden to the rescue and Terry would be charged. No more lying in bed with the pillow over her head listening to the loud noise of the television set downstairs or the occasional screams of her mother having the DTs in the bedroom next door.
Her gratitude to Agatha weighed down on her like a burden. She hoped a really important case would come her way and she would solve it. That would be a good way to pay Agatha back for all she had done.
Agatha drove slowly to her office the next morning through a rain-washed sunny countryside. Instead of Bill calling on her, she had received a phone call to tell her that he was tied up and to await further instructions. The leaves were turning yellow, gold and brown. The pretty Cotswolds looked their best, free at last from the burden of tourists.
Agatha, not very often sensitive to beauty, nonetheless could not help noticing the splendour of the morning and suddenly wished she were less driven, less ambitious, and could retire into the embrace of a quiet domestic
