'It's odd,' said Agatha. 'I'm actually beginning to feel sorry for the lot of them. What a mother! Let's hope it doesn't get round the village or we'll have all the press you can think of running around the place.'
'Gosh,' said Charles. He wrenched open the door. Two women from the village were standing across the hall, their ears pressed to the panel of the drawing-room door. 'What are you doing?' shouted Charles. 'Get back to the kitchen!'
He turned to Agatha. 'We'd better sit in the hall in case they come back. That's torn it. There's no use telling them not to talk and we've nothing to threaten them with.'
Someone in the drawing room was sobbing. They waited and waited. A couple of times the kitchen door opened a crack and then closed again.
At last Alison came out. 'They want you to leave. Jimmy looks on the point of breakdown. This is something I know nothing about. So I can't help you either. I really don't think you should be here on such a day. I'll call at your office if I have any news.'
In the office, Mrs Freedman said, 'Phil came in. I sent him home. I hope you don't mind. I said it was too early.'
'Poor man,' exclaimed Agatha. 'I'd better go and see him. What are Toni and Patrick doing?'
'Patrick's working on a divorce and Toni's out looking for a missing teenager.'
'I've got things to do,' said Charles. 'I'll leave you to look after Phil. Drop me at your cottage and I'll pick up my car.'
When Agatha arrived at Phil's cottage in Carsely, it was to find Mrs Bloxby there.
'I just brought Mr Marshall some of my chicken soup,' said the vicar's wife.
'I haven't brought you anything, Phil,' said Agatha. 'But wait until you both hear the latest development. First, how are you, Phil?'
'I'm fine. I really would like to get back to work.'
'Maybe tomorrow. Now listen to this...'
When she had finished the story of the skeleton, Mrs Bloxby exclaimed in horror, 'That woman was truly evil!'
'They'll have a devil of a job proving she did it after all this time, and with the case load the police have these days, they might not even try too hard. I mean, the murder was done either by Phyllis or Hugh or both of them. But Hugh was off on an errand for Phyllis, and -'
Her mobile phone rang. It was Doris Simpson. 'Could you get back to the cottage? The men are here with the cooker but everything's got to be moved to fit it in.'
'I'll be right there,' said Agatha. She rang off. 'Got to go.'
When Agatha had left, Mrs Bloxby said, 'Agatha needs a psychiatrist.'
'Mrs Bloxby!'
'No, I don't mean for herself. I mean she should sit down with one of those police psychiatrists and tell him all she knows about Phyllis Tamworthy and her children.'
'I might be able to help there,' said Phil. 'There's a retired psychiatrist who dealt with criminals. He lives in Bourton-on-the-Water. His name is Dr Drayton. I hope he's still alive.'
Agatha passed what she considered a wasted day. Anything to do with domesticity Agatha considered a wasted day. Electricians and plumbers had to be brought in to move the fridge and dishwasher and refit them to leave space for the large cooker. When everything was finished, the cooker sat there, squat, shiny and big, looking totally out of place.
When the men had finally gone, Agatha's phone rang. It was to be the first of many newspapers. The story had got out. How Agatha longed to take the credit for finding that skeleton. The only thing that stopped her was that Charles would lecture her and Toni would put her down as a jealous old bat.
Toni was in her flat having tea with George Pyson when Agatha rang her. George had just delivered one very comfortable leather armchair and a sturdy round pine table and had carried the ones those replaced down to his Land Rover, so Toni had made him tea.
'Toni,' said Agatha, 'get your glad rags on and full make-up and get to Carsely. The press will be here to interview you quite soon.'
'Do I have to?' pleaded Toni. 'You could handle it.'
'They want you,' said Agatha gruffly. 'So hurry up.'
Toni told George what had happened. He looked at her outfit critically. She was in her usual jeans and T- shirt.
'Have you got high heels and a skirt?'
'Yes.'
'I'll wait in the car while you change. You don't need much make-up except lipstick and mascara.'
Agatha opened the door to them an hour later and looked gloomily at Toni. The girl looked as if she had legs up to her armpits and with her eyelashes darkened, her eyes seemed even larger.
'The press, some of them, are in the sitting room.'
Toni entered and blinked. Crammed into Agatha's sitting room were reporters, photographers and television cameramen.
Agatha listened sourly as Toni, falteringly at first, and then gaining confidence, told her story.
Then Toni was asked, 'Why did you guess a body might be there? What made you leap to that conclusion?'
Toni smiled. 'I work for Mrs Agatha Raisin, who must be one of the most brilliant detectives in the country. She taught me everything I know. She encourages me to use my imagination. She could easily have said, 'Don't be silly,' but she said I was to go ahead.'
God bless the girl, thought Agatha as the press began to demand photographs of them together.
When the session was finally over and Agatha was showing them out, she noticed George Pyson sitting in the Land Rover outside.
She turned and said to Toni, 'What's he doing here?'
'He drove me over.' For some reason Toni felt that it would not be wise to tell Agatha about the furniture. Agatha seemed to disapprove of George.
'Of course. You don't have a car,' said Agatha. 'We'll get one tomorrow. Invite George in and I'll open a bottle of wine.'
Terry Gilmour watched his sister on television's late-night news. He felt bitter and mean with jealousy. The house was like a tip, strewn with bottles and cans and empty pizza cartons. His mother had suddenly appeared the day before. Shaky but stone cold sober, she had announced she was going to stay with an old school friend in Southampton who had managed to get off the booze and who was going to help her.
He began to cry drunkenly. He had no one to turn to. Even his friends were beginning to make excuses not to see him. He dimly remembered punching one of them in the face two nights before, but the rest of the evening was lost to him.
'I'll make them all sorry!' he shouted to the uncaring messy room.
Agatha studied George carefully and watched him closely when he talked to Toni, but she could detect no romantic interest there. A voice in her not usually overworked conscience was telling her that she was behaving like a jealous old maid. The phone rang and she went to answer it. It was her young friend, Roy Silver.
'What's been going on?' he cried. 'Finding a skeleton? You might have told me.'
'As you can imagine, I'm busy. Press by the hordes.'
'Press?' Roy was always trying to get himself some publicity. 'Can I come down this weekend?'
'All right. But you might have to sleep on the sofa if Charles is using the spare room.'
'See you.'
