Wait a bit. Other page a
'I'd better get back there tonight,' said Agatha. 'But why a secret message to himself? If he buried something under the garden shed, then why bother to go through this elaborate business? Are you game for another visit, Phil?'
Toni saw the reluctant look on Phil's face and said to Agatha, 'I'll come with you.'
'Go and get some rest,' said Agatha. 'I'll call for you around midnight.'
When she got back to her cottage, there was no sign of Charles. She felt suddenly bereft. Surely she should be used to him dropping in and out of her life? She petted her faithless cats, who wriggled away from her and stood by the garden door waiting to be let out.
She microwaved herself a dish of lasagne and moodily ate it at the kitchen table. Agatha decided to put an advertisement in the papers for a trainee detective. If Toni had a young person to train, it might take her mind off Sharon. What if, she wondered guiltily, I hadn't told Sharon to leave Toni's flat? Would she still be alive? No, she decided, she might even have started to bring the bikers to Toni's place and there might have been two dead bodies instead of one.
Agatha changed into dark clothes, set the alarm for eleven thirty and lay down on the sofa. As she drifted off to sleep, she wondered why she had never put a cat flap on the garden door.
Agatha parked her car round the corner from where John Sunday's house lay and she and Toni made their way quietly along the deserted street. A thin drizzle was falling, and water was beginning to drip down from the trees that lined the street.
They opened the gate quietly and made their way along a brick path at the side of the house which led to the back garden. Agatha risked flicking the thin beam of light from a pencil torch round the small area of garden. There was an unkempt lawn, several laurel bushes and the black silhouette of a small shed in the far right-hand corner.
Agatha flicked her torch on again and shone it on the door. 'There's a padlock,' whispered Toni.
'I thought there might be,' said Agatha, opening up a carrier bag and hauling out a pair of wire cutters. 'Soon get this open.'
'But what if the sister finds the broken padlock and reports the shed has been broken into?'
'I brought another padlock,' said Agatha cheerfully. 'No one will know the difference.'
She cut through the padlock and opened the door. The shed had a wooden floor. Agatha handed Toni the torch and said, 'Your eyes are better than mine. Crouch down there and see if you can find any marks where something might have been hidden. We don't want to smash up the whole floor.'
Toni crawled around and then shook her head. 'Nothing.'
'I was afraid of that,' said Agatha gloomily. 'We're going to have to try and lift all the planks up.'
'Wait a bit.' Toni sat back on her knees. 'This shed is raised up a bit from the ground. What if all we have to do is go outside and have a look underneath?'
'Great! Let's try it. I'll put this new padlock on just in case anyone comes after us and we have to make a quick getaway.'
Toni lay down on the wet grass and shone the torch under the shed. 'There's something here,' she said.
A voice sounded from next door. 'I assure you, Officer, I heard voices coming from Mr. Sunday's garden.'
'Snakes and bastards,' muttered Agatha. 'Grab whatever it is and we'll run.'
Toni pulled out a small metal box. They ran to the end of the small garden, Toni vaulted over the gate clutching the box, and Agatha threw her carrier bag over and heaved herself over the wooden gate and fell in a heap in the lane outside.
'Quietly,' hissed Toni, feeling that Agatha charging off down the lane was making as much noise as a stampeding elephant.
With relief, they reached the safety of Agatha's car and drove off.
Once back at the cottage, Toni put the metal box on the kitchen table. 'It's locked,' she said. 'Now, what do we do?'
Agatha opened a kitchen drawer by the sink and took out a chisel. She also handed Toni a thin pair of latex gloves and put a pair on herself. She wedged the end in the slit by the lock and prised down hard. There was a loud snap and the lid flew back.
There was a package wrapped in tough white plastic. Agatha took the kitchen scissors and cut it open. There were photographs and letters. 'Look at this!' exclaimed Agatha. 'That's a naked Tilly Glossop on top of some man, but who's the man?'
'It's hard to see his face, all contorted like it is. But it looks suspiciously like the mayor of Cirencester. I'll look him up on your computer and get a photograph.'
'You go ahead. I'll look at these others. Oh, my!'
Toni paused in the doorway. 'Oh, what?'
'It's a photo of Penelope Timson necking passionately with some fellow who isn't the vicar. The dirty little man must have been blackmailing people.' As Toni went through to the computer, Agatha studied the few letters. They were passionate love letters from people she did not know and written to people she did not know, either.
She lit a cigarette and wondered what to do. Toni came back in. 'Yes, it's the mayor all right. Shall we go and confront him tomorrow?'
'No,' said Agatha. 'He'll call his lawyer. The police will be called in. Where did we get this? Why were we withholding evidence? Penelope Timson is a friend of Mrs. Bloxby. I'll keep that photo back. We'll wipe everything we've touched carefully and send the package to the police. No, that won't do. They've got to find it themselves. Damn, we've got to put it back.'
'What about the broken lock?'
'I've got a metal box just like it. I used to keep jewellery in it until I got a proper jewel case. I'll get it, we'll pop the stuff in and back under the shed it goes.'
'And how do the police find it?'
'I'll call them from a phone box. I've got this nifty little machine. It's a portable voice distorter.'
This time they were able to enter and exit the garden without being heard. Agatha made the phone call to police headquarters and then they drove to an all-night restaurant out on the motorway for an early breakfast.
After a breakfast of sausage, bacon, egg and chips and two cups of black coffee, Agatha said, 'First, we should both get some sleep. I think I'll talk to Mrs. Bloxby about Penelope and suggest we both approach her. Now, the big question is Tilly Glossop. She and Sunday may have been blackmailing the mayor together. I mean, someone had to be on hand to take that photograph.'
'Do you want me to try Tilly?'
'I think maybe Patrick might be a better idea. He still looks like a cop and he might frighten her into some sort of confession or slip-up.'
Agatha snatched a few hours' sleep and turned up in the office at nine in the morning to brief Patrick. Then she told Mrs. Freedman to put in an advertisement for another detective. 'A trainee, mind,' cautioned Agatha. 'Some student in his or her gap year would do. I'm off to see Mrs. Bloxby about something. Seems a quiet morning. Want to come, Toni?'
Toni agreed. She still mourned her lost friend, Sharon, and felt the vicarage and Mrs. Bloxby's quiet presence very soothing.
Despite the loud protests from the study from the vicar, shouting, 'This place is getting like Piccadilly Circus,' Mrs. Bloxby settled them in the vicarage drawing room. Rain was falling steadily outside. 'They said it was going to be a barbecue summer,' said Agatha. 'Such a shame for all the families who booked their holidays in Britain this year.'
'Amazing thing, British tourism,' remarked Mrs. Bloxby when she returned from the kitchen with a laden tray.
