“Not any more. I can’t think any of them would do it. I’m going to bed.”
“What’s the programme for tomorrow?”
“Office, I suppose. What about you?”
“I feel like a lazy day. I’ll take a look at those photos for you. Did you find anything during the first search?”
“Yes. Maggie Tubby is in one of them, gazing adoringly at George. She’s got money. He took her for lunch yesterday and gave her a passionate kiss. I know what I’ll do tomorrow. I’ll pay a call on Maggie and tell her about George’s fiancee.”
“If she’s promised to invest money and you make her pull back, then dear George is really going to feel murderous. I’ll come with you.”
Chapter Nine
SHE MAY HAVE PULLED OUT ALREADY,” said Agatha as she parked in front of Maggie’s cottage. “I told Phyllis George had already been romancing me, went and listened outside their back garden and learned that George had previously tried his scam on with Phyllis and that’s when she told him Maggie had the money.”
“Let’s see the reaction anyway,” said Charles. “She’s probably still in love with him.”
“Why?”
“Obsession dies hard, doesn’t it, Aggie? Heard from James?”
“Do shut up and ring the bell.”
Maggie herself answered the door. “What is it now?” she demanded.
“May we come in?” asked Agatha.
“No.”
“Well, I may as well shout it on the doorstep. It’s about George.”
Maggie hesitated. Then she said reluctantly, “Come in, but just for a moment.”
They followed her through to her shed in the garden. “I was working,” said Maggie. She turned and faced them outside the shed door. “What is it?”
“I’ve found out that George Selby is engaged to a certain masseuse called Gilda Brenson. She won’t marry him unless he buys her a clinic in Oxford, so he’s been trying to get money out of us to fund it.”
Maggie put out a hand and leaned on the shed door. Her normally rosy cheeks had turned pale.
“It can’t be true.”
“I’m afraid it is. Did you give him any money?”
“Two hundred thousand,” said Maggie in a hoarse whisper. “He promised to marry me. I’ll kill him.”
“Don’t do that,” said Charles. “There’s been enough killing already.”
“Why don’t you tell the vicar about it?” suggested Agatha. “It may be that George has tried to get his hands on some of the money from the fete.”
“Just leave,” said Maggie. “Leave now.”
Toni received a text from Harry. “In Turkey. Back in week. Want to see u.”
Steeling herself, Toni texted back, “Don’t want see u. Got boyfriend.”
And I hope that’s that, she thought.
Her doorbell rang. At least it can’t be Harry, thought Toni, going to answer it. It was her friend Sharon.
“Feel like going to see the Living Legends?” she asked.
“I thought you were going with Simon.” Simon was Sharon’s boyfriend.
“He’s dumped me, that’s what.”
“Never!”
“Yeah. Got me to get tickets and then told me he was going with Cheryl, her with the big boobs and the nose ring.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Toni, thinking that a pop concert might be a good antidote to the feelings of inadequacy engendered in her by Harry.
While Charles went back to Agatha’s cottage to look at the old photographs, Agatha went to her office to find a local reporter, Harriet Winry, waiting for her. Harriet was a thin, bespectacled girl with bad skin and lank hair. What she lacked in looks she made up for with enthusiasm for her job.
“Nothing to report,” said Agatha curtly. “Get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”
“What about that business at Comfrey Magna?” asked Harriet.
“Still investigating. Now, go away … Wait a minute. I might have a little bit of news for you, nothing much.”
“What is it?”
“Handsome widower George Selby is engaged to gorgeous masseuse Gilda Brenson. Not much, but it’d make a nice item for the local gossip column. A photo of Gilda might be worth it. She is very glamorous. Works at Bartley’s Health Farm. She’ll be leaving shortly because George is going to set her up with her own salon. To this end, he’s
