been arrested, of course, but nothing about the murder at the manor or who killed that poor old man.'
'This factor, George Pyson,' said Agatha, 'anything odd about him?'
'Highly respectable, by all accounts.'
'Married?'
'He was, but his wife died of cancer five years ago. No children. Why are you interested in him?'
'I think he's interested in young Toni and he's too old for her.'
'I sat in on the interviews with Toni. I would say that young lady is older than her years. Very sensible. I wouldn't worry about her.'
'You've interviewed all of them at the manor house,' said Agatha. 'Can you think of any one of them that might have done it?'
'I've thought and thought. And the more I think about it, I'm amazed that with such a mother they've all turned out sane. Now, the people in the village with their damned witchcraft, it's beginning to seem more and more likely that one or several of them might have conspired to murder her.'
'I can't see them doing that,' said Agatha.
'Why?'
'She charged them low rents. With her gone, ten to one the family or whoever they sell the estate to will jack up the rents. Where was Mrs Tamworthy brought up?'
'I don't know. You'll need to ask one of the family. Why?'
'Maybe it was someone out of her past.'
'If you find out anything, let me know.'
On Saturday evening Toni was walking along the street to her flat, elated at having got her driving licence, when she felt her arm seized. She swung round. Her brother's beery face was thrust into her own. 'You're coming home, now,' he said.
'Leave me alone,' howled Toni. People scurried past them, averting their eyes. No one wanted to get involved. These days, villains were apt to sue the rescuer for assault.
Toni kicked and struggled but Terry was much stronger. A battered Land Rover came along the street and stopped abruptly. George Pyson jumped down.
'Leave her alone this minute,' he shouted at Terry.
'Piss off, you posh git,' snarled Terry. 'This here's a family matter.'
George seized Terry's arm and twisted it up his back. Terry howled in pain.
'Who is this?' asked George.
'My brother,' gasped Toni, breaking free. 'He's trying to get me to go home and I don't want ever to go there again.'
'Are you going to go quietly?' asked George, giving Terry's arm a painful wrench.
'You're breaking me arm! Yes. Let me go.' George released him and Terry ran off down the street.
Toni said in a low voice, 'Thanks.' He won't want to know me now, she thought, coming from my sort of family.
But George said, 'Let's go for a drink. I only caught glimpses of you at police headquarters when I was being grilled in one room and you in another. I'd better move the car. It's blocking the street.' A volley of horns bore witness to this. They both climbed into the Land Rover and George drove off.
'I'll just park in the square and we'll go to the nearest pub and you can tell me about your driving lessons.'
'I passed today,' said Toni. 'I'm still a bag of nerves.'
In the pub he asked her to tell him why she had left home and listened while Toni recounted how Agatha had come to her rescue.
'And your mother?' he asked. 'Any chance of getting her into a rehab?'
'Rehabs cost a lot of money.'
'They take a few National Health patients. Her doctor could put her name down. She may have to wait but it would be better than nothing.'
'She's hardly ever sober enough to listen to me. Maybe I'll try when Terry's not around.' Toni eyed him covertly, wondering whether he was coming on to her, but after she had finished her drink, he said briskly, 'Right, young lady, let's get you home.'
And that is exactly what he did, giving her a cheery goodbye as she climbed down from the Land Rover.
As she watched him drive off, her mobile phone rang. It was Agatha. 'I passed my test,' said Toni.
'Great. We'll get you some old banger. I'll pick you up tomorrow.'
'Back to the village?' asked Toni uneasily. 'No, we're going to find out more about Phyllis Tamworthy.'
Chapter Nine
Alison had informed Agatha that her mother-inlaw had been brought up in the village of Pirdey in Lancashire. With Toni studying a route map beside her, Agatha drove northwards out of the Cotswolds.
Rain smeared the windscreen and she switched on the wipers. A blustery wind was pulling ragged grey clouds across a large sky. Out on the motorway, spray from huge lorries made driving a misery. Agatha wished Charles had not turned down her invitation to come with them. In his company she often stopped thinking about James Lacey. Also, she liked being accompanied by a man after years of battling on her own. She sometimes felt it was still an old-fashioned world. A woman on her own was often treated by hoteliers and waiters like a second- class citizen.
She had been pleased to learn that Phyllis Tamworthy had been brought up in a village. If she had been brought up in a large city, there would be little chance of anyone remembering her, thought Agatha, forgetting that anyone who remembered Phyllis would have to be pretty old. Phyllis's maiden name had been Wright. Agatha wished it had been something more unusual.
They stopped off at a motorway restaurant to break their journey. Toni had recently read an article which stated that the diet of the working classes was still abysmal, consisting as it did of microwaveable meals and takeaway food. But Agatha was tucking into a large plate of greasy eggs and bacon with every sign of enjoyment.
Soon they were on their way again. Agatha slid a CD into the player and the strains of a Brahms symphony filled the car. She did not like classical music but was trying hard.
Toni had expected the village to be like Carsely but it was a grim little place stuck out on moorland. The rain had stopped but a yellow watery sunlight only enhanced the drabness of the place, which seemed to consist of one long straggling street. Agatha drew up outside a sub-post office and general stores. 'Wait here,' she said to Toni. She marched in and asked an Asian woman behind the counter where she could find some old residents.
The woman, her sari a bright splash of colour in the dingy shop, volunteered the information that the elderly residents met in the community centre at the eastern end of the village in half an hour for tea.
Agatha rejoined Toni in the car. 'We need to wait for half an hour. The old folk meet up at the community centre. The woman in there says it's at the eastern end of the village.'
'What's the eastern end?' asked Toni.
Agatha scowled horribly. Then she admitted, 'Blessed if I know.' She got out and went back into the shop, returning after a few minutes to say, 'It's along on the left. We may as well wait outside until they all turn up.'
The community centre was in what had once been a villa. A pokerwork sign with the legend 'The Heights' swung in the wind.
'I wonder why they call it that?' mused Toni. 'The countryside around here is as flat as a pancake.'
'Who cares?' snapped Agatha and Toni gave her a hurt look of surprise.
The fact was that Agatha was uncomfortable in Toni's company, the glowing youth of the young girl making her feel ancient.
