He found Fred, a gnarled old man, sitting on the edge of a wall smoking his pipe, seemingly unmindful of the steady drizzle falling down from the leaden sky above.
'I am a private detective,' said Phil. 'Is there anywhere we can talk out of the rain?'
Fred, by way of reply, walked off in the direction of a potting shed at a corner of the garden.
Phil took down the large golf umbrella he had been holding over his head and followed Fred inside.
Fred looked gloomily at his wet pipe, gave it a shake, put it down and drew out a packet of cigarettes.
Phil waited until he had lit a cigarette and then asked, 'Do you know of anyone who would be likely to have murdered Mrs Tamworthy?'
Fred puffed slowly at his cigarette. His face was as dry and brown and cracked as a bed of earth in a drought. 'Reckon I might ha' done it,' he said at last.
'Why?'
'Starvation pension, that's why. Her said she'd pay me cash. 'Don't want to worry about taxes, Fred,' that's what her did say. Now she's gone and them'll sell up and what'll I do? They'll sell my cottage and I ain't got a pension worth looking at cos there's no official record of me being employed.'
Phil, who was in his seventies, looked sympathetically at the old gardener. Then he had an idea. Agatha paid him a generous salary and expenses.
'Look here, it's hard to try to get information about what goes on in the manor. We'd gladly pay you for anything you can find out.'
'You mean like snooping?'
'Hard word, but that's what detective work is all about.'
'I could do with the money. I've had a right hard time of it with the police grilling me and demanding to know if I supplied hemlock by accident along with the other vegetables.'
'Here's my card,' said Phil. 'Any little thing you can think of. Keep your ears open. You're sure you don't have any idea who did the murder?'
'I think it were her youngest, Jimmy. The others lived away from the manor but he were right up the road. Some mother that old woman was.'
'Right, let me know if you think of anything else.'
As Phil left the potting shed, the rain had increased to a steady downpour. He got into his car and drove round to the front of the manor. The police car was still there, but no sign of Agatha's car. He decided to go back to the office and write up his notes.
Fred made his way up to the manor house with a basket of vegetables. He went in by the kitchen door and laid the basket on the table. He could hear them all talking in the drawing room. He felt sour and bitter. There they all were, having inherited a fortune while he was facing the remainder of his days in poverty.
Some mad impulse made him poke his head round the drawing-room door. 'Veggies in the kitchen,' he said.
Fran said grandly, 'Thank you, Fred, you may go.'
Her lady-of-the-manor attitude made Fred furious. 'I know which one of you did it,' he said. White, shocked faces turned in his direction. He grinned and slammed the door. On his way out through the kitchen, he saw bottles of Mrs Tamworthy's wine in a rack by the door. He helped himself to a bottle and retreated to his cottage.
Agatha was cross with Charles for disappearing. She was at last fed up with the fact that he had the keys to her cottage and could come and go as he liked.
The following morning she telephoned the security firm that had installed her burglar alarm and asked them to come immediately to change the locks on her door and the code on the burglar alarm.
She telephoned the office and said she would be a bit late.
When the workmen arrived, she said she was going out for half an hour and made her way up to the vicarage.
'I'm getting the locks on my cottage changed,' said Agatha as soon as Mrs Bloxby opened the door.
'So no more surprise visits from Sir Charles?'
Agatha followed her into the vicarage living room. 'I don't like the way he uses my house as a hotel.'
'Mrs Raisin, I do believe you are--' Mrs Bloxby broke off. She had been about to say, 'growing up at last.' She changed it to, 'being very sensible. Have you time for a coffee?'
'Yes, please, but only if it's ready. I can't be away too long.'
'It's ready. Won't be a minute.'
'May I smoke?'
'Not in the house. We can go into the garden. It's a fine morning.'
'Don't bother. The table and chairs will still be wet after last night's rain.'
'It's all right. I've wiped them down.'
Agatha went out into the garden. The air was fresh and scented with autumn flowers. She took a deep breath, thinking how good country air was for her health, and then lit a cigarette.
'I heard on the local radio station,' said Mrs Bloxby when she returned with two cups of coffee, 'that Paul Chambers is out on bail.'
'Damn! I'll need to keep Toni well away from that village. It's a pity because the girl has a sharp eye.'
'Tell me how far you've got with the case.'
Agatha began to sum up the little she knew. 'Dear me,' said Mrs Bloxby when she had finished, 'one would think Mrs Tamworthy
'The thing that puzzles me,' said Agatha, 'is why was she clutching that hemlock root? I mean, how did she get hold of it? Surely the killer wouldn't go out of his way to give us a clue as to how she had been poisoned?'
'It's all very odd,' said Mrs Bloxby.
Agatha looked at her watch and let out a squawk. 'I'd better go. They should be finished by now.'
When Agatha finally got to the office, she carefully read the notes from Phil and Patrick. Patrick had written that Alison appeared to have been correct when she said her husband had lost interest in the brickworks. The failure of the brickworks did seem to have been caused by Bert not paying much attention to orders.
Sir Henry Field came as a surprise. He was managing director of a firm that made healthfood bars, a small concern. Patrick had gathered that he didn't have much to do with the running of the firm. The owner liked Henry's title on their masthead.
Agatha, when she had read Phil's notes, said, 'I find this gardener interesting. I would like to talk to him myself. It'll keep us clear of the house if the police are still around. Patrick, if you could get back to some of the other cases...We're building up a backlog. Toni, you go through the cases with him and see what you can do.'
Patrick said, 'Agatha, Toni is seventeen. You can drive a car at seventeen.'
'Hmm, that's a thought.'
'But I don't know how,' said Toni. 'I mean, if you have no hopes of owning a car, you don't think about learning to drive.'
'Right, Toni, get Mrs Freedman to book you up for a crash driving course where you get your licence at the end of the week.'
'I can't afford a car!' exclaimed Toni.
'I'll get you an old banger. It'll be the property of the agency. Get on with it. Come along, Phil. Let's cross your gardener's palm with silver and see what he comes up with.'
'Police are still here,' grumbled Agatha to Phil, who was driving.
'I'll park round the back,' said Phil.
'Do you know where his cottage is?' asked Agatha.
Phil shook his head. 'Don't worry. He's probably in the garden.'
He parked the car and led the way to the kitchen garden. But there was no sign of Fred.
'I don't want to go into the house with the police there,' said Agatha. 'Let's go to the stables. That groom, Jill, will know where to find him.'
They met Jill as she was crossing the stable yard. To Agatha's question, she said, 'If you go right round the
