Raisin. Her mouth was open and she was snoring gently.
'Tell her I'm still out,' said Wilkes curtly.
'Sir, she said something about having solved the murder of Mrs. Courtney.'
Wilkes scowled horribly. He hated to admit that Agatha had helped him in the past. But he decided he'd better wake her up and hear what she had to say. He shook her by the shoulder. As Agatha blinked up at him, he demanded, 'What's all this about you having solved the murder?'
'Get me a strong black coffee and I'll tell you all about it,' said Agatha.
Fortunately for Agatha, Sergeant Collins was out on a job, so it was Bill Wong who sat with Wilkes as Agatha began her story. She described how Amy Courtney had changed her appearance drastically but that before that she had been a mirror image of her twin, Tom. Agatha theorised that it was Amy dressed as Tom who had gone to the Cayman Islands, that Harriet had been heavily bribed to say that Amy was staying with her, and that Amy had given Tom Harriet's birth certificate and all necessary details. Tom had made himself up as a woman and secured a passport in Harriet's name, flown to London and murdered his mother for her money.
'This is all very far-fetched,' said Wilkes.
'I bet you didn't check to see if someone called Harriet Temple had entered the country,' said Agatha.
'But why would this Harriet Temple continue to lie?'
'Check the airport and then ask her. If she thinks she's in danger of being accused of murder, she'll soon tell you. And I think Amy got all that cosmetic surgery in time for any police questions just in case someone should notice the likeness to her brother. But why should they? The murder was in England in a village where there is still an unsolved murder. She was just covering all the bases.'
'Well, keep away from Tom Courtney and that village until we check this out.'
Agatha called on Mrs. Bloxby that evening to tell her the latest news. 'Do you really think they would go to such elaborate lengths?' asked the vicar's wife.
'Yes, I do. There's evidently a great deal of money involved. And what better place to commit a murder than in some small English village that already has had one?'
'You don't think that the murder of Sunday was to set the scene?' said Mrs. Bloxby.
'No, I have a feeling that the murder of Grudge Sunday had nothing to do with the Courtney murder. Where is Tom Courtney? Does anyone know?'
'Yes, he called this morning looking for you. Said he was off to the States for a few days.'
'I'd better tell Wilkes. If he is guilty, he might make a run for it and Harriet Temple may need protection.'
'Use our phone.'
'I thought your phone was the sole property of your husband.'
'Oh, Alf won't mind.'
Mrs. Bloxby went off to her husband's study. Agatha grinned as she could hear the vicar's voice raised in anger. 'This is not a detective agency and yet you involve yourself in that woman and her folly.'
Agatha took out her own phone and dialled Wilkes. She was told curtly that he was too busy to speak to her.
'Sod them all,' said Agatha. 'I'm taking my jet lag home to bed.'
The first thing she saw when she drove up outside her cottage was the crumpled figure of Toni sitting on her doorstep.
Agatha hurried out of her car. 'Toni, my dear. What is the matter?'
'It's Sharon. She's disappeared.'
'Oh, no. Come in.'
'Where have you been?' wailed Toni.
'I've been in the States. Come through to the kitchen and tell me about Sharon.'
'She came round to my flat a few days ago and said you'd fired her and she wanted a place to say. Honestly, I couldn't bear the thought of her mess again so I said she'd best go. She burst into tears. Why did you fire her?'
'I accused her of being on drugs. She told me to sod the job and a few choice insults and stormed off.'
'I've gone looking for her round the clubs,' said Toni. 'She's been hanging around with a lot of bikers. They're bad news. There's one in particular, Jazz Belter, and he's ancient!'
'How ancient?'
'In his forties.'
Agatha winced.
'With a balding head and a ponytail. Real stereotype. I think he's the one who's been supplying her with drugs. They hang out at the Shamrock pub out on the bypass.'
'Toni, I'll give Sharon her job back again but she's got to get herself cleaned up.'
'But I can't find her!'
'Have you told the police?'
'Not yet.'
'Make some coffee, will you? I'll phone them right away. Wait a minute! Surely her parents have reported her missing?'
'No, she told them she was living with me.'
'I'll call Bill.'
Bill was at the station and listened to Agatha's story about the missing Sharon.
'She's been found,' said Bill in a quiet voice.
'Oh, that's great. Poor Toni's been going out of her mind with--'
'Agatha! Listen! Sharon's dead.'
'How? When?'
'She was found a few hours ago. She had been stabbed and strung up on a lamp post on a back street. Her mouth was stuffed with grass. I know some of the bikers, went to school with a few. Said Sharon had been drinking and drugging and bragging how she was really working undercover. Her boyfriend, Jazz Belter, had just dumped her and it's thought she was trying to scare him.'
'Who did it?'
'We're looking for Jazz at the moment.'
'I'll be with you as soon as I can.'
'You can't do anything. Get a good night's sleep.'
Toni looked at Agatha white-faced as Agatha slowly replaced the receiver.
Agatha told her the story. Toni began to cry, dismal, wracking sobs shaking her whole body.
Agatha flapped hopelessly around her, wondering what to do. I should hug her or something, she thought. Then she went through to the sitting room and called Mrs. Bloxby, who said she would be around immediately.
Agatha walked up and down the garden fifteen minutes later, smoking furiously, while Mrs. Bloxby, the expert comforter, got to work. Agatha could hear the vicar's wife's soothing voice through the open kitchen door.
'Of course her death has nothing to do with you, Toni. It wasn't your fault that she started taking drugs and got into bad company. Everyone feels guilty when someone close to them dies, wondering this way and that if they could have done anything. Now, dry your eyes. No, don't drink coffee. Drink this hot sweet tea. So much better for shock. You gather up your things. You're coming home with me for the night.'
Agatha would have gone with them, but Mrs. Bloxby stopped her with a little warning shake of the head.
Doris Simpson was still looking after Agatha's cats. 'I wish I had someone to look after me,' said Agatha.
'My shoulders aren't very broad,' said a familiar voice. 'But you could try and lean.'
'Charles!' Agatha burst into tears.
'Good heavens! What's happened to old iron-knickers Raisin? Come on, girl. Up on your feet. We'll move into
