“Agatha found the flat for me. She’s awfully generous.”
“You must be a very good detective,” said Harry cynically. “She’s just protecting her assets. She probably hopes you’ll be so grateful, you’ll never leave. Do you live rent-free?”
“No, she bought it for me, but I’m paying her rent each month.”
Harry was casually but expensively dressed. He had stopped shaving his head and wearing studs and earrings. Toni noticed that the jacket he had taken off and slung over the back of the sofa was of fine soft suede and his sweater cashmere.
He was tall with a strong pleasant face.
“I never really got a chance to talk to you at Agatha’s Christmas party,” said Toni, handing him a bottle of beer. “Has the university term finished?”
“Not yet. I’m home for the weekend to see my parents. Tell me about this village case.”
Toni succinctly told him everything they had found out so far.
Harry seized on one fact when Toni had finished. “You mean to say Agatha’s got the key to the strongbox?”
“So she says.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Do you think so? I think the money will be quite safe. I think some loony put LSD in the jam and won’t try anything again.”
“Look here. I’d like to see this village. I’ve got my bike parked in the square. Why don’t we take a trip over?”
“All right,” said Toni. “Maybe we’ll find out something.”
Chapter Five
TONI ENJOYED HER RIDE on the back of Harry’s motorbike. He parked beside the churchyard wall.
“That was ace,” cried Toni, removing her helmet and handing it to Harry.
“It’s a good way of getting around Cambridge,” said Harry. “The traffic can be awful. Goodness, it’s quiet here. You’d never think it was a Saturday.”
The cobbled village street led down from the churchyard, the cottages on either side leaning towards the road, like so many elderly people, looking for support. Somewhere up on the hills surrounding the village came the sound of a tractor. A dog barked from the other end of the street. But all those sounds seemed to do was intensify the silence. It was very hot despite a little breeze.
“Where do you want to start?” asked Toni. She turned round and saw Agatha’s car. She suddenly did not want her day with Harry to be spoiled by encountering Agatha.
“I know,” she said quickly. “Back on the bike. There’s this pig farmer, Hal Bassett. He likes me. I think there’s a lot more he can tell us. It’s straight down the main street and up the hill.”
“Isn’t that Agatha?”
“Don’t let her see us,” urged Toni. “Bassett doesn’t like her and he won’t talk freely.”
They put their helmets on and raced off down the village street. “Morons,” grumbled Agatha as they roared past, not recognizing either Toni or Harry in their helmets.
The farmer seemed delighted to see Toni again. “The wife’s over in Mircester,” he said. “Who’s this?”
“Harry Beam,” said Toni.
“This your fellow?”
“Harry used to work for Agatha Raisin. He’s now studying at Cambridge,” explained Toni.
“Got away from the old bat, did you? You should do the same, Toni.”
Toni was about to flare up in Agatha’s defence but stopped herself just in time. Arguing with Hal wouldn’t elicit any information.
“Come into the house,” he said. “And we’ll have some tea, unless you would like something stronger.”
“Tea’s fine.”
They followed him into the kitchen. Harry looked around. “Your kitchen’s cool,” he said.
“It’s the stone flags and the thick walls that keeps it that way,” said Hal, not recognizing the slang. “Sit down. What brings you?”
Toni remembered studying Agatha’s notes on the case. Hal had his back to them as he plugged in the electric kettle.
“I wondered if you had thought about what happened at the fete and come up with any ideas,” said Toni.
“Are you sure it wasn’t one of the visitors?”
“I’ve got a feeling it was someone in the village.”
“Then it must have been someone mad. And if you want someone mad, try Sybilla Triast-Perkins.”
“Why her?”
