But that night, she slept as she had not slept since the news of Sharon's murder.
In the morning, Simon signed his contract. He blinked in surprise at the generosity of his pay and looked across at Agatha. 'I'm taking you on full-time. I have a hunch about you,' said Agatha. 'Mind you, you are still on trial. Now, I was going to start you on some of the small stuff but I need a new pair of eyes. Do you remember reading about the murder of John Sunday?'
'Yes.'
'I want you to read up everything on it. Work all day on it and see if you can come up with any ideas. You'll find it all on the computer at that desk over there.'
Agatha caught a bleak look from Toni and thought with irritation, Yes, I know it was Sharon's desk but I can hardly lay a wreath on it and burn candles. Agatha introduced him to the staff.
Simon sat down and got to work. He could dimly hear Agatha discussing other assignments. He concentrated on the files on the computer, shutting everything else out, including thoughts about Toni. He had been in love, once disastrously, and he never wanted to suffer hurt like that again. Toni, with her fair good looks, intelligence and disarming air of innocence, was danger.
As he read the reports, he tried to conjure up the scene in the vicarage drawing room when the dying Sunday had appeared at the window. Apart from Miriam Courtney and Miss Simms, no one seemed to have left the room. When he looked up after half an hour, the place was empty apart from Mrs. Freedman. 'Why Miss Simms and Mrs. Bloxby?' he asked.
'I don't understand you,' said Mrs. Freedman.
'No first names.'
'Oh, they're members of the Carsely Ladies Society. It's an old-fashioned tradition. They don't use first names.'
Simon then focussed on Tilly Glossop. She was reported to have been having an affair with Sunday. Had he been using that photograph of her with the mayor to get a bit of free sex for himself?
His stomach rumbled and he looked up at the clock in surprise. 'I'm just going out for lunch,' he said. 'Then tell them I've gone over to Odley Cruesis to have a look at the place. Can I get you anything?'
'No, I had a sandwich at my desk. Don't you think you should phone Mrs. Raisin first and say you're going there?'
'I'll be on a motorbike with my helmet on. I just want to get a feel of the place.'
Simon went to the nearest Burger King and gulped down a hamburger and fries before getting on his bike and heading for Odley Cruesis. He drove carefully right through the village and parked up on a hill above it.
Visitors to the beauty spot that is the Cotswolds often pass by villages like Odley Cruesis, hidden down in a fold of the Cotswold hills. They go instead to the main tourist spots such as Chipping Campden or Bourton-on-the- Water or Stow-on-the-Wold.
The village was very quiet. A high wind soughed through the tops of the old elm trees surrounding the small triangle of village green. The little cottages that he could see were all very small and so covered in creeping plants of various varieties--wisteria, clematis and Virginia creeper--that the houses themselves seemed to have become part of the vegetation.
Simon approached the church and studied the notice board. The notices announcing various events were mostly old and faded, but there was one new one, recently pinned up. It said, 'Room to let in period house of great charm. Contact Miss May Dinwoody.' Then followed the address and phone number.
He took out his mobile phone and called Agatha. When he had finished speaking, she squawked down the line, 'You want to live there? It could be dangerous. Not only have there been two murders but a friend of mine got struck on the head and ended up in hospital. And what on earth would be your excuse for living there?'
'My parents were both killed in a car crash--true. I want peace and quiet to recover from the trauma. I am interested in entering the church.'
'Are you?'
'One visit to Mircester Library and I'll know an awful lot about it. I'm good at integrating myself.'
'All right. Give it a try and report to me every evening. We'll keep it secret. Don't come near the office. I'll tell everyone you've decided not to take the job. Have you enough money to put down a deposit?'
'Yes. I'm not going to rush into things so it could take some time. Can you remember exactly where she lives?'
'She lives in the old mill house. There's a track leads down the far side of the shop and you reach it that way.'
Simon glanced at the village shop as he passed. It looked a gloomy place with a tattered banner hanging over the door emblazoned with the legend: YOUR VILLAGE SHOP--USE IT OR LOSE IT. I'd better shop there, he thought. Probably think in this place that a visit to a supermarket amounts to treason. Funny. It doesn't feel calm and peaceful. I feel as if hundreds of eyes are watching me.
He made his way down a damp, weedy track to where the old mill house brooded over a weedy pond. He pressed the bell to Flat 3 and a voice told him over the intercom to enter.
May Dinwoody's first words when she saw him sounded disappointed. 'I was hoping for someone older,' she said in her reedy voice. 'Maybe an elderly gentleman. There have been murders in this village and one feels so very frightened.'
Simon smiled. 'Maybe a young man would be better protection.'
'Oh, well, you'd best come in. Take a seat.'
Grey-haired May Dinwoody was wearing an odd assortment of clothes: a ratty brown cardigan over a red sequinned evening top, harem trousers and trainers.
'You had better give me references,' she said.
'I have with me,' said Simon, 'my school certificates and my driving licence. I do not have job references because I have never worked. My parents were killed in a car crash last year and it has taken me a long time to sort out their affairs with the lawyers. My home is in 22, Blackberry Avenue, Mircester, but it is up for sale. I want to stay somewhere very quiet for a little while until I decide what I am going to do. I am seriously thinking of entering the church.'
'I think you'll do very well,' said May. 'We'll have some coffee and go across to the vicarage so that you may meet the vicar. But first, I shall show you your room. It's a bittie small. I'm afraid it doesn't overlook the pond. It really was the pond view that persuaded me to move here.'
How such a dank and murky pond could attract anyone was beyond Simon's imaginings, but he followed through to a room at the back. The room, although small, had a large window overlooking the village green. 'The previous tenant was an artist and he got that large window put in,' said May. 'Such desecration. He'd never have got planning permission these days.'
The room was simply furnished with a single bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers, a desk at the window and three hard chairs.
'Now, I'll show you the bathroom. I'm afraid I shall ask you to supply your own sheets and towels.'
'That's all right,' said Simon. 'Can manage that.'
'Now follow me. Off to the right of the living room is the kitchen. We'll need to share the fridge and shelves. I will keep my groceries on the bottom two shelves and you may have to the top two shelves and one freezer drawer. The cupboard up here on the left is yours also.'
'Looks fine.'
'There is another room here but I use that as my workshop. I make toys.'
'How clever of you!'
May's voice began to tremble. 'There is now the question of the rent and the deposit.'
'How much?'
'Seventy-five pounds a week and three months in advance.'
'Okay. Cash or cheque?'
May blinked at him.
'If you said I was a nephew or something like that,' said Simon, 'I could pay you the cash and then you would not have to pay any taxes.'
'That would be criminal!'
