tractor driver with gloomy relish. 'You're for it now.'
'I'm Gerald Fairfield, the farmer,' said the man. 'What's up, Andy?'
'This 'ere precious pair's screaming there's blood coming out of the bale.'
'So it's some animal or other,' said Gerald impatiently.
Toni rapidly explained about the missing journalist.
Despite his shock, Simon noticed the farmer was quite handsome. His angry face softened as he looked at Toni as she blurted out the explanation about the missing reporter.
'Well, young lady,' he said. 'We'll wait until the police get here, but I think you'll find you've just made great fools of yourselves.'
Bill Wong was the first to arrive, followed by two policemen. He studied the bale and then said, 'We've got to wait for SOCO to arrive.'
'You're surely not taking this seriously,' protested Gerald.
'Very seriously,' said Bill. 'Here come the Scenes of Crimes Operatives. I suggest we all back off before we're accused of compromising what may be a murder scene.'
They all retreated to the edge of the field as the white-coated figures advanced with their equipment. Simon found a pair of binoculars in his car and studied the scene. The wire around the bale was cut and SOCO began its search.
Out of the hay finally tumbled a crumpled body.
Gerald and Andy were standing with Simon and Toni and the waiting police.
'Didn't you do that field the night before last, Andy?' asked Gerald.
'Yes, boss. You know that. All day yesterday as well and right on into the evening after dark, it was.'
Agatha arrived with Phil and Patrick. She handed Bill Ruby's card. 'You'd better send someone up to Hackney in London to fetch her to identify the body,' she said.
'There's still mud down by the millpond lane with a lot of footprints in it,' said Simon.
'Right,' said Wilkes. 'We'll get on to it.' He turned to Agatha. 'I want you to leave all this to us. We can't have private detectives cluttering up the scene.'
'You wouldn't be cluttering up the scene yourself,' protested Agatha, 'if my detectives hadn't found the body.'
'I want your two detectives to go back to headquarters with you, Mrs. Raisin, and make statements.'
Bill whispered to Agatha, 'Call on you later.'
Agatha and her staff, with the exception of Mrs. Freedman, waited anxiously that evening in her cottage for Bill to arrive. Charles had joined them, saying he had ordered steak pies to be delivered from the pub, therefore saving everyone from a selection of supermarket curries from Agatha's freezer.
Bill arrived just as they were finishing their dinner. 'It's a right mess,' he said. 'Yes, it's Dan Palmer and it's worse even than you think. The preliminary autopsy shows that he was possibly unconscious but alive when the baler scooped him up and stabbed him as a final insult. He was probably smothered to death.'
'How's Mrs. Palmer taking it?'
'Pretty easily. In fact, so easily that Wilkes got a check on her, but she was definitely back in Hackney after she left you. Also, she's too small a woman to hit a man like Dan and then somehow get his body up into the hay field. They estimate the hay was still uncut when the body was dumped but that it was placed just where the baler would be bound to pick it up. Andy swears he saw nothing. We've got men going from door to door. We cannot find Palmer's car.
'There's another thing, Simon. Are you really sure you saw footprints in the mud in Mill Lane?'
'Yes.'
'Something had flattened them over. Why did you think footprints in Mill Lane were particularly interesting?'
Simon looked at Agatha. 'Oh, go on, tell him,' said Agatha.
So Simon told of the attempt on his life and how he had lied to the vicar and told him he could not swim.
'Now, listen to me carefully,' said Bill. 'We have set up a mobile unit again in the village and the place is swarming with detectives and police officers, not to mention the press. I want you all to keep clear. We don't want another dead body on our hands.
'Even out of the village, in Mircester, I want you to be careful. You found the body, so the murderer might consider life safer with one of you out of the way, probably Simon. You've got other cases, haven't you? Get on with them.'
James Lacey sat in his hotel room in Singapore and watched the latest news from Odley Cruesis on BBC TV international news. Agatha was in the thick of it, as usual, he thought. He missed her. He really had to admit that he missed her. But he dreaded the contempt in her bearlike eyes when she looked at him. He wondered if she would ever forgive him for having fallen for that airhead he had so nearly married.
After they had all left, including Charles, Agatha made herself a cup of strong black coffee and lit a cigarette. She had recently given up smoking when other people were around unless they were outside in the open air. She decided to sit up during the night and carefully read all the notes on the case of John Sunday from beginning to end. At last she struggled up to bed with a nagging feeling she had just missed something important.
In the following two weeks, Agatha and her staff diligently went about their work, Agatha trying to put the murders of John Sunday and Dan Palmer out of her mind. The police had drained the millpond in the hope of finding Dan's car, but there was no sign of it, only the remains of Dan's listening device.
'I daren't go back to that village,' said Agatha to Mrs. Bloxby one evening, 'but I would like to get another look at all of them. I know!'
'Know what?' asked the vicar's wife uneasily.
'Well, the Ladies Society here is always hosting other villages and they host us. Why don't we invite Odley Cruesis for . . . let me think . . . a special cream tea event in the village hall here. Teas at two pounds a head, plus coaches to bring them over. Give the money to charity. Alzheimer's could do with the money.'
'Mrs. Raisin! Think of the expense. We could not recoup enough to cover our own costs, let alone give anything to charity.'
'I'll pay for the lot. I will not let this murderer go free. Don't worry. I'll organise everything. Oh, and the village band to be hired to play jolly sounds.'
There was a ring at the doorbell. Mrs. Bloxby went to answer it and returned with Charles. 'Oh, Charles,' said Agatha, 'I've had a great idea.'
Charles sat down on the sofa next to her and listened to her plans. 'You'd better hire a couple of portaloos as well,' he said. 'Think of all the wrinklies that'll turn up. Think of all the weak bladders and swollen prostates. As far as I remember, the hall has only the one toilet.'
'I'll fix it,' said Agatha, her eyes gleaming.
'Agatha,' said Charles plaintively, 'you haven't told me why.'
'I want to be able to sit there and
'And you think your feminine intuition will kick in and you'll stand up and shout 'eureka' and point at someone. When a photo of a murderer appears in the newspapers, a lot of people say things like, 'Look at the eyes! Now, there's a killer.' Whereas before they were trapped, they probably looked very ordinary.'
'There must be something. Two weeks' time. I'll get the posters printed out tomorrow and send them over to the vicarage.'
'What if no one comes?' asked Charles. 'I mean, I bet they know you live here and think there might be something fishy.'
'For a cream tea at two pounds a head and free transport, they'll come.'
'Pity it's tea and not liquor,' said Charles. 'Might loosen them all up a bit.'
'There's a point,' said Agatha. 'What's that woman's name, Mrs. Bloxby? The one who sells sloe gin and elderberry wine at the markets?'
