about him. Fran, with her tightly permed hair and discontented face, did not look upper-class. Toni thought that if you put her in a flowered apron and a turban and stuck a cigarette in her mouth, then she would look like one of those northern women in mill towns one saw in old photographs of World War II.
Bert, too, looked out of place with his red face and bald head. And Sadie, small and dumpy, was of a type that could be seen on any council estate. Agatha had told her on the drive to Lower Tapor that she was married to a baronet. Odd. Toni, who had expected them all to be like Sir Charles, was disappointed.
Agatha found there was not much to see in the kitchen. Any makings of salad and any utensils that might have been used preparing the high tea had been taken away for analysis.
She turned to Alison. 'Do you know how long the police are going to be here?'
'I think their mobile unit will be leaving this afternoon after we have all signed our statements.'
'And then what are everyone's plans?'
'We're all going to the lawyer's late this afternoon to make sure the will is still the same. That is, divided amongst us four ways. After that, I don't know. Fran suggested we should all stay together for a few days to decide what to do about the estate. Fran wants to keep it in the family and Sadie would like that as well. But Jimmy wants to sell the place and so does Bert.'
'You see,' said Agatha, 'I can't get much further while the police are here. Can you continue to try to persuade the rest of them that it would be in their interest for me to try to find out who murdered Mrs Tamworthy?'
'I'll do my best.'
'In that case, I'll concentrate on the village today. Paul Chambers is the ringleader of the protesters. Where does he live?'
'He owns the pub. He lives upstairs.'
'Does the pub belong to the estate?'
'Yes, and the rest of the village.'
'Now the two women who served lunch. What are their names and where do they live?'
'One is Doris Crampton. She lives in Pear Tree Cottage. The other is her sister, Mavis. They live together. They do the cleaning here and my mother-in-law would engage them when we all met here for meals to wait at table. Oh, it's all so awful. There are police out scouring the countryside for hemlock.'
'Will they find it?'
'I should think so. It's pretty common.'
'How do you know that?' asked Agatha sharply.
'We Googled it on Fran's computer this morning.'
'I'll collect Toni and be off to the village.'
As Agatha drove out and checked signposts to Lower Tapor as the easy entrance to the manor was in Upper Tapor, she asked Toni, 'Well, what did you make of them?'
'I can't quite believe it,' said Toni. 'It's like a stage set. They don't belong. I dunno. I mean, they look like a group of people who've gone to one of those hotels where they do murder weekends. You know, where they dress up in thirties costumes and one of them plays Poirot. They look as if they're waiting to put their costumes on and wondering which one of them is going to play the murderee.
'I don't know anything about manor houses, but I thought they would look more at ease in their surroundings. Of course the place itself is more like a hotel.'
'Evidently Fran and Sadie have grand ideas and both would like to be ladies of the manor,' said Agatha. 'But surely not that manor house. But I doubt if either of them would want to buy the others out. Unless, of course, Sir Henry Field is rich. Alison said she has her own money. I wonder just how much she has got. Here we are at the pub. Be prepared to be insulted.'
A few locals stared at them sullenly as they walked into the stone-flagged bar. Paul Chambers was behind the bar sitting on a high stool, reading a newspaper.
He looked up at Agatha and his eyes hardened. 'I heard about you,' he said. 'Some sort of snoop.'
'I am a private detective employed by the family to find out who murdered Mrs Tamworthy,' said Agatha.
He had unusually pale eyes and a shock of fair hair and fair lashes. 'You're looking in the wrong place,' he said. He looked at Toni. 'You employing child labour these days?'
'Watch your mouth, mate,' snarled Toni and Agatha looked at her in surprise.
But Paul grinned. 'Feisty, aren't you? It's no use bothering me.'
'You were furious at Mrs Tamworthy when you learned she planned to sell the place,' said Agatha.
'Yeah. But I wouldn't have murdered the old trout. What good would it do? None of that lot has enough money to keep the place going.'
'What about Bert Tamworthy? He runs the brickworks.'
'Sure, but the brickworks are part of the estate, see?'
'What about Sir Henry Field?'
'Got a little money from a family trust. Enough to keep him from working too hard for a living, but that's all.'
'How do you know this?'
'Made it my business.'
'Are you sure Mrs Tamworthy had planning permission to build houses on her land?'
'Sure. There's a field that's never used other side of the six-acre. There's ruined houses there. There were about ten of them in the nineteenth century. The manor was owned then by a Jeremy Twistle. He chucked the tenants out because he wanted the extra land for agriculture. But he died before he could do anything about it and the houses fell into ruin. Mrs Tamworthy claimed that as the land had never been used for agriculture, she had a right to build on it and got planning permission. We weren't having any of that.'
'Why?' asked Agatha. 'The countryside is short of housing.'
'It's damn short of affordable housing,' said Paul. 'She'd build houses for rich incomers and we've got enough incomers in the Cotswolds driving house prices up so that the villagers can't afford to live in them.'
'If the villagers would stop selling their homes to incomers,' said Agatha, 'then the prices wouldn't become inflated.'
'What do you know about anything? Shove off.'
'Were you up at the manor house yesterday?' asked Toni.
'No, I wasn't, cheeky-face.'
'And you can prove it?'
'Course I can, but I'm not going to waste time telling a slip of a girl like you. Tell you what, come back this evening when you've got rid of Granny here, and maybe I'll stand you a drink.'
'I'll think about it,' said Toni.
Agatha felt very low as they left the pub. She was in her early fifties, her legs were good and her hair glossy, but set against the glowing youth of Toni, she didn't stand a chance.
She swallowed her pride and said, 'Maybe you should take him up on his offer.'
'Where will you be?' asked Toni. 'I doubt if there are any buses around here.'
'We'll interview the sisters and then I think we should go back and pack overnight bags. I'll find a hotel near here and book us in. I'll drop you off at the pub and I'll be able to start work at the manor early the next morning.'
She drove slowly around the small village until they located Pear Tree Cottage.
One of the sisters answered the door. 'Oh, it's you,' she said. 'What d'yer want?'
She was, as Agatha remembered her, fat and frumpy. Her hair was tied up in a scarf and she had an old- fashioned flowery apron stretched across her bulk.
'I am a private detective,' said Agatha. 'I wanted to ask you a few questions about yesterday.'
The woman raised her voice and screeched, 'Doris!' Her sister came into the room. 'Here's a nosy parker come to ask us about yesterday,' said Mavis.
'Cheek!' said Doris. 'Get along with you. You ain't the perleece.' She seized a broom from the corner and
