Bourton.' They drove into the car park and walked through to the village. 'Would you look at that!' exclaimed Agatha. 'Look at all the people and at this time of year. I think the tourists just never stop.'
'Loads of Chinese,' said Charles. 'They're allowing them out on package tours to the Cotswolds.'
Bourton-on-the-Water is a famous beauty spot with a glassy stream flowing through the centre, old bridges and old houses. The day was sunny and clear with a cold wind sending the last of the leaves scurrying along the street in front of them.
'It's round here.'
'I wonder if this is really a good idea,' said Agatha. 'I always think psychiatrists are like fortune-tellers and psychics. People only go to them to indulge their vanity.'
'People like you always think that,' said Charles, turning to admire the back view of a pretty girl with long legs.
'What do you mean, people like me?'
'People who need a psychiatrist themselves.'
'That's snide.'
'Think about it, Aggie. You're pining after an ex-husband who was a pain in the bum when you married him and you aren't even in love with him any more.'
'I'll have you know, you miserable little, penny- pinching -'
'Children! Children!' admonished Phil. 'We're here.'
The house was small and grey; one of those old Cotswold houses which weather so well that it is hard to determine its age.
The door was opened by a tall rangy female in tight jeans, high boots and a peasant-type blouse. She had masses of frizzy blonde hair, a narrow face and pale-blue eyes.
'Wot you want?' she asked.
'Dr Drayton.'
'You 'ave the appointment?'
'Yes,' said Phil. 'Mr Marshall.'
'Wait.'
'These Poles get everywhere these days,' said Charles. 'But what a looker!'
She returned. 'Come in.'
They followed her into a book-lined study where an elderly man sat in front of a log fire. He had thinning grey hair and very thick glasses. He was hunched forward in a leather armchair, wearing an old Harris tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows.
'Sit down,' he ordered. 'Turn my chair round, Sasha, so I can see them.'
Sasha did as she was told. 'You may leave us,' said Dr Drayton.
'You want tea?'
'No, I don't think that will be necessary.'
He might have asked, thought Agatha, looking around to see if there was an ashtray in the room and not finding any.
'Where did you find the girl?' asked Charles.
'An agency. Now, I believe you wish to consult me.' He took a small tape recorder out of his pocket and switched it on.
Agatha began at the beginning. He interrupted her only occasionally to ask for descriptions of various people. Charles, who often put Agatha down as scatty, was amazed at the clear and concise report she gave.
When she had finished, Dr Drayton said, 'I wonder what her upbringing was like? Leave this with me and I will give you my conclusions. May I have your address?'
Agatha fished out a card and handed it to him.
'Thank you.' He rang a small bell. Sasha appeared. 'They are leaving,' he said. 'Show them out.'
Sasha led the way to the front door. As Agatha and Phil walked down the short garden path, Charles nipped back before Sasha could close the door. They waited outside the garden gate. Agatha saw Charles giving Sasha his card.
It's all right for men, she thought sourly. He's in his middle forties and yet he can chat up a young girl like that. Now, if I chased after George Pyson, say, I'd be called a harpy.
Phil and Charles helped Agatha buy a small second-hand Ford. With Charles driving it and Agatha following after they had dropped Phil off at his cottage with stern instructions to rest, they went into Mircester and parked in the main square.
Toni had just returned from identifying the body. Her mother was red-eyed but composed. 'I got you a car,' said Agatha gruffly. 'Here are the keys and the paperwork.'
'Oh, thank you,' said Toni. 'You are so generous.'
'I'm not really,' said Agatha. 'You can hand the car back to me if you ever leave. Where's George?'
Mrs Gilmour said, 'He's at the undertaker's to arrange the funeral. So kind.'
I must warn her about George, thought Agatha. That was immediately followed by the sensible thought that she should really mind her own business. Toni and her mother needed all the help they could get. Agatha told Toni to take as much time as she needed. Then she asked, 'What about your home, Mrs Gilmour? Are you going back there?'
'No, I went over today and it's filthy. Fortunately I bought it when I was still working and council houses were cheap. Mr Pyson is hiring two women to scrub the place out. I really don't know what we'd do without him.'
'Right. Toni, I'll call you later in the day to see how you are.'
Toni put her arms round Agatha and hugged her by way of farewell.
'How's about that?' asked Charles when they were outside. 'Didn't know you had a maternal streak.'
'Maternal be damned,' snorted Agatha. 'She's a good detective and I don't want to lose her.'
'Looks to me as if you are going to lose her to George.'
'Curse the man. Why couldn't he pick on someone older?'
'Like you?'
'Shut up! Let the moths out of your wallet for once and buy me lunch!'
Charles went off after lunch, leaving Agatha to return to the office on her own.
She found Alison waiting for her, an Alison pale-faced and fretful, who leaped up when Agatha entered, crying, 'You must drop the investigation at once!'
'Why? Please sit down. You look awful. May we give you a cup of coffee?'
'No! No! Just drop it. I'll pay you anything you want. I've told the police I am taking you off the case.'
'But why? Surely you'll want all this cleared up?'
Alison suddenly sank down on the sofa and burst into tears. Mrs Freedman rushed forward with a box of tissues. Agatha paced up and down feeling helpless while motherly Mrs Freedman sat beside Alison with an arm around her shoulders, saying, 'There, now. Have a good cry, dear. It'll make you feel better.'
Alison at last dried her eyes, gave a huge gulping sob, and said, 'If you don't drop the case, Bert says he'll divorce me. He said things were bad enough before, but now you've discovered his mother was probably a murderer, they'll find it even harder to sell the house and estate.'
Was that the real motive? wondered Agatha. Or had one of the family or all of them killed Phyllis and didn't want her to discover it?
'Don't you want to find out who killed Phyllis?' asked Agatha.
'Oh, I do,' wailed Alison pitifully.
'Well, just go back and tell your husband that I am off the case. I'll try to find out something very quietly.'
'Can't you just leave it alone? Bert says the police have all the resources you haven't, like forensics and all that.'
'Forensics didn't do a very good job of finding that poisoned bottle of wine before it killed Fred Instick.'
There was a long silence and then Alison said reluctantly, 'All right. But it means you can't go near the manor.'
