He stopped the car on the verge and they walked into the field, admission twenty pence. Admission to everything in Carsely seemed to cost twenty pence. They wandered along the stalls. Mrs Bloxby, raising money for charity as usual, was selling home-made jam. Agatha and James bought a jar each. James chatted away while Agatha edged off and stood waiting. She was still ashamed about her trick with her garden.
There were small boy scouts leaping about on a trampoline and boy scouts vaulting over a hobby horse. There was also a boy scouts' band playing tinnily.
Over in the corner was something that looked like a scaffold but turned out to be a 'mountain rescue' display. Three boys were hoisting a chubby boy scout up on ropes. He missed his hold and turned upside down and swung in the air.
'Just like Mary Fortune,' said Agatha with a shudder. 'Let's go.'
They turned away. A wind had sprung up and the clouds above were heavy and grey. There had not been rain for some time and little dust devils swirled up from between patches of bare earth among the scrubby grass of the field. There was also a faint chill damp in the air, heralding approaching rain. Agatha rubbed her bare arms and shivered.
Then, from behind them, they heard a familiar voice shouting, 'Harder, boys, harder! You're not pulling hard enough. I'll show you.'
Agatha and James stopped and turned round and looked back.
Bernard Spott had taken off his jacket and was rolling up his sleeves to expose sinewy arms. He edged the boys at the 'mountain rescue' display aside and seized the rope and pulled one of the boys up easily. 'You see how it's done?' said Bernard. 'You use the strength of your forearms. Don't jerk the whole body. Just the forearms.'
'Walk away with me,' said James urgently. 'Don't show too much interest.'
'Why?'
'Because that's how it could have been done.' He put an arm about her waist and drew her along.
Good heavens, thought Mrs Bloxby, I do believe Agatha has succeeded in attracting James at last.
'Bernard? You can't mean
'But a very fit one. We kept discounting people because they weren't strong enough. But all anyone would have to do would be to bind her ankles with rope, leaving one long end, throw the end up over the hook, and pull the body up. Tie it up and cut the end.'
'Granted. But why Bernard?'
'I don't think it's Bernard,' said James, stopping suddenly. 'We've been arguing and thinking and speculating for so long, I'm jumping to mad conclusions.'
They had reached the entrance to the field.
Agatha looked back. Bernard Spott was standing quite still, staring across the field at them.
'I say,' said Agatha, 'let's go to his house and wait for him. We could ask him if he knew of anyone else in the village who has his way with ropes. Don't look now, but he's staring and staring at us.'
'May as well try,' said James. 'But why not ask him now?'
'I don't know. I want a look at his back garden. We could even spot something the police have missed. I mean, they're not going to have searched the garden of a respectable old villager like Bernard very thoroughly.'
'I wish I'd never mentioned Bernard,' said James peevishly. 'I've had enough of this for one day.'
'Then drop me off,' said Agatha. 'I'll go on my own.'
'Oh, in that case I'd better go with you in case you make a fool of yourself,' said James ungraciously. 'Must you smoke?' he demanded, as Agatha lit a cigarette as soon as she was in the car.
'I thought you didn't mind people smoking.'
'So I lied.'
Agatha tossed the lit cigarette out of the car window.
He had moved off as he was speaking, but he immediately slammed on the brakes. 'Of all the stupid things to do, Agatha. The ground's as dry as tinder. You could set the countryside alight.'
Agatha stayed in the car, a mulish look on her face, as he searched the ditch until he had found her discarded cigarette and put it out. He had no right to speak to her in that tone of voice.
'You're a male chauvinist pig,' she said as soon as he got back in.
'And you, my dear Agatha, are the greatest female chauvinist sow it has ever been my ill luck to come across.'
'Oh, sod you, James, and bugger the countryside and all who sail in her. Are we going to Bernard's or not?'
'I've a good mind not to go. Do you know what? We're being childish even thinking that old man could do such a thing.'
'I didn't like the way he was looking at us,' said Agatha.
'Woman's intuition?'
'Something like that, James dear.'
'So what are you going to do if he comes back while we are ferreting around, looking for God knows what? Point a finger at him and say, 'You did it!' and he will break down and say, 'Mea culpa, O great detective lady'?'
'Why are you so beastly angry all of a sudden?' demanded Agatha.
There was a silence while he steered the car round a corner and then up the hill to Bernard's cottage. 'I don't know,' he said in a mild voice. 'I really don't know.'
'Well, figure it out next time before you open your trap,' said Agatha, still ruffled. When the car stopped she got out and went up the garden path and round the side of Bernard's house to the back.
James sat tapping the wheel and watching her disappear. Then he shrugged and got out as well and followed her.
The sky above was growing darker. Little snatches of sound from the scouts' band filtered to his ears. He went round the side of the cottage. The back garden was quite large, heavy with the scent of roses. A sharp wind sent a drift of blossom scattering over the grass. In the middle of the garden was a round pond where goldfish darted here and there in the greenish water.
Agatha turned and saw him and said in a quiet voice, 'Come here and look at this.'
He went to join her. There was a square patch of bare, well-raked earth planted with neat little wooden crosses. On each cross was a carved name, Jimmy, William, Harry, George, Fred, Alice, Emma, Olive, and so on.
'Animals' cemetery?' asked James.
'Do you know what I think those are?' said Agatha. 'I think they're the graves of those goldfish that were poisoned.'
'Come on, Agatha. Nobody gives names to goldfish,'
'I think he did. There's one way to find out.' She bent down and started digging in the earth with her fingers.
'Stop that, Agatha,' said James. 'It'll be a cat.'
'Then, if all these graves are animals, there's still something up with him. Aha!' She straightened up and pointed downwards. The remains of a nearly decomposed goldfish lay unearthed. 'Don't you see?' she said, her eyes gleaming. 'If he was as potty as this about a lot of goldfish and if Mary poisoned them and he knew about it, it could have turned his brain.'
They both stiffened as they heard the front-garden gate squeal on its hinges. 'Cover that up, quick,' said James.
'No,' said Agatha. She turned to face the entrance to the back garden. Bernard came round the corner of the house, his jacket over his arm. He stopped short at the sight of them for a moment and then walked quickly up to them. He looked down at the open grave at Agatha's feet and said in a quiet voice, 'Why have you desecrated Jimmy's grave?'
'You killed Mary,' said Agatha in a flat voice. 'You discovered she'd poisoned your fish and so you killed her.'
'Oh, really, so where are the police, Agatha?'
'They'll be here any moment,' said Agatha, moving behind James for protection. She improvised wildly. 'The
