Collins prowling around. Now, be an angel and shut up while I get some paperwork done.'
Charles folded his arms on his chest and promptly fell asleep.
'He must be tired,' whispered Mrs Freedman.
'He should be,' retorted Agatha. 'He was up all night watching old movies.'
Charles woke up when Alison arrived. Agatha was shocked at her appearance. Her face was drawn and there were heavy bags under her eyes.
She sank down wearily on the office sofa. 'I don't know how much longer we can all go on like this. The police are now searching the cellar.'
'Were any of the other bottles on that rack in the kitchen poisoned?' asked Agatha.
'They don't know yet. George Pyson, the factor, is finding another gardener to fill in in the meantime. He has also found an accountant for us because it turns out Mrs Tamworthy had lots of money salted away in different accounts. If we ever get out of this, we'll all be very rich indeed. But we'll never have any peace until this murderer is found. We're paying some of the villagers to patrol the estate because the press are doing everything they can to get in to interview us. When I drove off, I was nearly blinded by all the flashes from the cameras. Of course, the villagers have been talking, so George says, and it's probably all a lot of scurrilous gossip.'
'What you need is a good foreign story,' said Agatha cynically.
'I don't understand.'
'If there's a big story abroad, you'll see the press trying to get back to their offices to buy the foreign editor drinks and free meals, begging, 'Send me. I've got a visa.''
Charles laughed. 'Only Aggie could wish a war on the world for a bit of peace at Lower Tapor,' he said.
Agatha ignored him. 'Alison, I know you won't want to believe this, but if any of the Tamworthys had committed the murder, which one would you think it might be?'
'That's awful. Jimmy suffered the most but I can't see him doing it. I mean, it all looks as if it were carefully planned to hurt the family as much as possible. Poisoning that wine means the murderer was not just after my motherin-law.'
'Unless it was done before the murder,' said Charles. 'My money's on Paul Chambers. He seems a nasty bit of work. A man who would try to rape a young girl in the middle of a murder investigation must be a bit unhinged.'
'Have you heard anything about witchcraft in the village?' asked Agatha.
'No,' said Alison, 'but then I never had much to do with the place.'
'I know,' said Agatha, 'I'll phone Phil and send him back to see the Crampton sisters. He seems to have charmed them.'
Phil was delighted to be able to temporarily drop the divorce case. As he drove into Lower Tapor and parked beside the village green, he could see no one about and yet was conscious of eyes staring at him from behind net curtains. He had never considered himself to be imaginative or psychic in any way and yet he could swear he felt the weight of the hidden watchers' curiosity and animosity.
Cotswold buildings weather very well. It was hard for Phil to guess the age of the houses. Some were thatched and timbered, so were probably seventeenth century or maybe earlier, their little dormer windows under the eaves looking like eyes. Others had slate roofs and lintels over the door in the style of Queen Anne.
He made his way past the pub to the sisters' cottage and knocked on the door. Once again Doris opened the door to him. She looked wary.
'I wonder if I might have another word with you,' said Phil.
Doris leaned forward and looked to right and left and then said reluctantly, 'Come in.'
This time her sister, Mavis, was in the parlour. Phil was not asked to sit down. They both faced him, work- reddened hands folded over their aprons.
'I heard a rumour there was witchcraft in this village,' said Phil.
They stared at him in silence and then Mavis turned and walked out.
'I don't know where you heard such rubbish,' said Doris. 'Now if you don't mind, I've got work to do.'
'Terrible thing about Fred Instick,' pursued Phil, not wanting to return to the office with nothing to report.
'That's what happens to nosy parkers,' said Doris.
'You mean he had found something out and someone wanted to silence him?'
'Look,' said Doris, 'Fred was always bragging about what he called gardener's privileges. One of them was to help himself to a bottle of wine on his road out of the kitchen. He was the only one I knew who would touch the stuff. Mrs Tamworthy did try to sell some at a village fete but nobody liked it. We make the good stuff here. It was sickly sweet and tasted a bit like medicine. I reckon her never allowed it to mature long enough. Now, get on with you.'
Well, that was something to report, thought Phil. It looked as if the poisoning of the old man had been deliberate. He walked back to his car on the village green. Just as he opened the car door, something struck him viciously on the back of the head and he slumped to the ground, red blood trickling through the white hair on his head.
Two minutes later, George Pyson drove into the village. He saw Phil lying on the ground by his car, braked to a halt and got out and knelt beside him. He took out his phone and called urgently for an ambulance.
Bill Wong was the first on the spot. He had been driving to the manor and had heard the emergency call on the police radio.
George had taken a travel rug from the car and wrapped it around Phil. 'There's a rock over there with blood on it,' said George.
Bill phoned Agatha and told her what had happened. Then he asked, 'What exactly was Phil doing in the village?'
Agatha told him that Phil had gone over to call on the Crampton sisters. 'It's Pear Tree Cottage,' she said. 'I'll be right over.'
'Don't,' said Bill. 'Stay right where you are and I'll let you know which hospital they've taken him to.'
George said, when Bill had rung off, 'His pulse is steady enough. Where the hell's that ambulance?'
It was an agony of waiting until the ambulance arrived. 'Taking him to Mircester General,' said one paramedic.
As soon as the ambulance was out of sight, Bill turned to George. 'Where is this Pear Tree Cottage?'
'I'll take you there.'
But at Pear Tree Cottage no one answered the door. Bill flipped open the letter box and listened. He could hear a faint sound of movement from inside. He shouted through the letter box, 'Police! Open up or I'll smash the door down.'
Hurried footsteps could be heard on the other side. Then the door swung open and Doris stood there. 'I was down in the garden,' she said.
'The man who was just here,' said Bill, 'was struck on the head with a rock. Did you see anything?'
'That's awful. No, like I said, I was down in the garden.'
'Did he ask you about witchcraft in the village?'
'Yes, that he did. Told him it was rubbish.'
'Did he ask anything else?'
'No, I told him I was busy and he left.'
Agatha paced up and down the waiting room of Mircester General Hospital. Phil was being examined. Bill and Charles were waiting with her.
'Collins is furious with you,' Bill said. 'She says you're complicating the case.'
'She can get stuffed,' snarled Agatha. 'Oh, poor Phil. What if it's brain damage?'
'Here comes the surgeon now,' said Bill.
'Mr Marshall has suffered a concussion,' he said. 'He must have a very strong head. There is no sign of brain damage.'
'I would like to try to have a word with him,' said Bill.
