Tilly Glossop phoned Mrs. Timson. 'That peculiar young man is lying on the road beside his car. Do you think there's something up with him?'
'Drunk,' said the vicar's wife succinctly. 'Leave him to sleep it off.'
_______
Agatha was aglow with alcohol and lust. Tom had paid her many compliments so that she felt young and attractive again.
Over coffee, he said, 'I have some very good brandy in my room. Why don't we go up there?'
This is it, thought Agatha. Now or never. Just once, just once, before I'm very old. Take mental inventory. Legs shaved, armpits ditto. Should she have got a Brazilian? Too late now.
But when they entered his hotel room, she did wish he would take her in his arms and kiss her. He poured her a measure of brandy and then one for himself and sat next to her on a slippery sofa in the small sitting room of his suite. He smiled. 'To us and to the night ahead.' They clinked glasses.
'I do like to get certain things out of the way first,' he said. 'Have you ever had any sexually transmitted diseases?'
Agatha looked at him with eyes of stone. 'Anything else or do you have a very long catalogue?'
He grinned boyishly. 'Don't know how it is, but I never could bear pubic hair on a woman.'
'Neither can a paedophile. Listen, Tom, this is one horrible mistake. If you want to lay down terms like this, I suggest you go somewhere and pay for it. Now, if you don't mind--'
Her mobile rang. She was later to thank God for the crassness of Tom's approach or she might never have answered it. She listened in alarm to Roy's message.
'It's Roy! He's hurt.'
She called the police, she called the ambulance, and then got to her feet and hurried to the door. 'You've been drinking. You can't drive,' exclaimed Tom.
'Oh, bug off, nancy boy,' hissed Agatha, and ran out of the room.
When Agatha got to Odley Cruesis, she saw the police were already there and Roy was being loaded into an ambulance. She saw Bill Wong and hurried towards him. 'Is Roy alive?'
'Just. It's a bad blow.'
'I'll go in the ambulance with him.'
'Agatha, you've been drinking.'
'So what? I'm not going to drive the ambulance.'
Agatha waited miserably at the hospital and was soon joined by Toni and Sharon. Bill had phoned Toni. 'Any idea who did this?' asked Agatha.
Toni shook her head. 'But it seems that Roy went to a bingo meeting at the village hall and claimed he knew the identity of the murderer and the murderer should speak to him outside and confess all.'
'I should never have given him that boxed set of
'Here's Bill,' said Sharon.
'It's bad,' said Bill. 'There's bleeding in the brain. They're operating now. You may as well all go home. There's nothing more you can do here.'
'Will he live?'
'They don't know. But evidently for such a weak-looking fellow, he's got a skull like iron and that might save him.'
'Didn't anyone see anything?'
Bill told her about the call to the vicar's wife.
'But that's ridiculous!' exclaimed Agatha. 'Roy tells them he knows the identity of the murderer, then he's reported lying on the road and no one thinks they should go and have a look at him?'
'According to village report, they estimate he was drunk and sleeping it off.'
'Any idea what struck him?'
'Blunt instrument. Maybe a hammer. I don't like Sergeant Collins, but I was glad of her because she ripped into all these villagers, banging on doors, waking them up, shouting at them--it would have done your heart glad, Agatha. Now, go home.'
'Maybe I can sit by his bed,' pleaded Agatha, 'and, you know, talk to him.'
'Agatha, it's not a soap. He's not in a coma. He's under anaesthetic on an operating table getting a couple of holes drilled in his head. You'll maybe be able to see him in the morning. Go home and get some sleep.'
Agatha was just wearily climbing into bed when the door opened and Charles strolled in.
'Roy's been hit on the head,' said Agatha. 'He might not live.'
She burst into tears. Charles sat down on the bed and hugged her until she had finished crying. 'Now, tell me all about it.'
So Agatha did. When she had finished, Charles said, 'I've been wondering about Tom Courtney.'
'Why him?' asked Agatha. 'Anyway he was having dinner with me while someone was trying to kill Roy. And why would he want to kill John Sunday?'
'Oh, I just thought that maybe he had already planned to bump off Mum and torch the place and wanted Grudge out of the way before any objections to an expensive building site started up. So he was having dinner with you and you're back at dawn still smelling of Mademoiselle Coco. Did you get seduced?'
'The call about Roy interrupted dinner, thank God. Do you know he asked me if I had shaved?'
Charles ran a hand over Agatha's face. 'Smooth as a baby's bum. Oh, you mean the other end. What larks! What a chat-up line!'
'Leave me alone now, Charles. I've set the alarm. I've got to get back to the hospital first thing. And then there's Sharon's eyes.'
'What about them?'
But a gentle snore was the only reply.
Three hours later Agatha was back on the road to Mircester Hospital with Charles driving. 'I don't suppose you want to work for Tom again,' commented Charles. 'Do look at these stupid wood pigeons. All over the road.'
'Not really,' said Agatha. 'But he may be connected to the murders somehow or he may know someone who is. I'll forget about last night and go on as usual.'
'What about Sharon's eyes? You mumbled something before you fell asleep.'
'Oh, that. Maybe it was because we were all so upset last night but the pupils of her eyes looked like pinpricks. I'll get Toni to find out how she's doing.'
'Do you ever think about that jolly fling we had in the South of France?'
Agatha glanced quickly at Charles but his face was calm and neutral.
She manufactured a little laugh. 'From time to time. I was so glad to escape from my dreadful fiance.' Agatha had been briefly engaged to a villager who had taken her on holiday to Normandy. But he had turned out to be so awful that Agatha had had to phone Charles to come and rescue her. Then she and Charles had driven down to the south of France for a brief holiday.
'And that's all it was?'
'Just the way you put it yourself, dear,' said Agatha in a thin voice. ' 'Well, that was a bit of fun,' you said, 'but troubles at home and I've got to dash.' Never mind. Let's see how Roy is doing.'
Roy looked like a fledgling abandoned by its mother. His head was shaved on one side. The matron came bustling in. 'Relatives only.'
'Aunt and uncle,' said Agatha. 'How are you doing?' she asked Roy.
'They're ever so pleased with me,' said Roy. 'I've got to rest up for a week and not get on any planes. I've
