Agatha Raisin and The Walkers of Dembley

'We'd like you to begin at the beginning and tell us how it came about that Miss Tartinck went out walking along the old right of way on her own.'

For one who did not like the police, Jeffrey appeared, surprisingly, an ideal witness. He described everything from the beginning, then Jessica's speech trying to rally them all, then how they had had a row, although he omitted any mention of Irishmen, simply saying he was tired of 'bossy women'. 'There was no real affection between us,' he said. 'She wanted what I'd got and I gave it to her.' Like Deborah, he had no alibi for the Saturday afternoon. He had done a few chores at home. Maybe he had gone to the Grapes. He couldn't really remember.

The next to be interviewed was Kelvin Hamilton. When asked if Jessica had applied to him for a place to stay, he said, 'Of course not. I had no time for that lassie's bullying ways and she knew it.' Kelvin thought furiously. He had not said anything to anyone of Jessica's visit. Had he? Then he thought with a sinking heart that the police might interview his neighbours, would probably interview his neighbours, and might find out about the visit and the subsequent row. The walls between the flats were thin and Jessica had shouted a few choice insults at him on her road out. But he dare not tell them he had been lying. 'I think you'll find it was Deborah Camden,' he blustered.

'Why would that be?' asked Wilkes.

'Because she was so carried away wi' the idea o' being friendly wi' an aristo, och, you wouldnae think we was living in the twentieth century.'

'And you think that would be enough motive to kill a woman for simply walking across a field?'

'It's the wee quiet ones you have tae watch.'

They then took Kelvin through when he had first met Jessica, what he knew of her, what he judged her relationship with Jeffrey to have been, and where he had been last Saturday, before letting him go, wiping the look of relief off his face by saying they would see him at police headquarters in Mircester the following day.

'Another one without an alibi for Saturday,' said Wilkes.

The next was Alice Dewhurst. She wanted to be jointly interviewed with Gemma Queen and it took several minutes of argument to persuade her that they had to be seen separately.

Alice sat down sulkily after Gemma had been led away. 'So,' said Wilkes after Bill had taken down particulars of Alice's address, age and job, 'what can you tell us about Jessica Tartinck?'

She heaved her great bottom uneasily on the small hard chair. 'I dunno. Seemed to have all the right ideas, but too pushy even for a dedicated feminist. I mean, it's the men you're supposed to push around, not the women.'

Wilkes found this rather a mad piece of reasoning but he let it go.

Instead he said, 'Did any of you know Jessica Tartinck before she came to Dembley?'

'No,' said Alice. Something flickered at the back of her eyes. Bill Wong had an uneasy feeling she was lying.

'You will appreciate, Miss Dewhurst, that some of these questions may seem random, but it is important to establish what sort of person Miss Tartinck was. Miss Tartinck's family is in Milton Keynes, I believe she has a mother and sister living there, and they are being informed of her death. But she was killed here, and so we must try to find out why someone hated her enough to kill her.'

'It's all very simple,' said Alice in heavy patronizing tones. 'Sir Charles or one of his minions on this estate lost their temper with her and struck her with a spade.'

Wilkes reflected wryly that this reasoning seemed quite logical, as no one had made any attempts on Jessica's life before her solitary ramble, or none that they yet knew of. So they questioned Alice about Jessica, her interests, her friendships, and were left with a feeling that Alice had been jealous of Jessica and had not really liked her.

Alice said she had been at home with Gemma the previous Saturday. They had watched a video on television and had not gone out at all.

Gemma Queen, who was next, backed this alibi in a shy voice. She seemed to Wilkes to be typical of a certain type of unambitious shopgirl, the kind who should have been giggling about boyfriends with other shop-girls and not getting tied up with the tetchy and angry ramblers. Asked about Jessica, Gemma had nothing but praise and admiration for the dead woman.

'Did you share her militant views towards landowners?' asked Wilkes.

'Beg pardon?'

'Did you dislike landowners as much as Miss Tartinck?'

'You'll need to ask Alice.'

'Miss Queen! Don't you have any views of your own?'

'I dunno. To tell the truth, I don't know half what they're talking about. But Jessica was all right. Real attractive. She took me to the ballet once.' Gemma suddenly giggled. 'Alice was furious.'

Wilkes decided he wasn't going to get anything much out of Gemma that was useful. Besides, she would be interviewed again the following day. By that time they would know a lot more about the characters in the case.

Peter Hatfield and Terry Brice appeared refreshingly gossipy in comparison to the others. Both had been working on Saturday afternoon and appeared to be the only ones with cast-iron alibis. Although they were interviewed separately, their stories were much the same. Their motive in joining the walkers on their outings was because neither of them wanted to get 'too fat'. Yes, they usually took Saturday afternoon off, but this Saturday, when the restaurant was closed between three and seven, they had volunteered to stay on to set up the tables for the evening. Their stories were so alike that Wilkes was sure they had rehearsed them carefully while waiting in the ballroom. Although the one alibied the other, it did cross his mind that one of them could have left the restaurant, gone out to the estate in a car, murdered Jessica, and returned.

After them, he turned to Bill Wong, stretched and yawned, and said, 'Now, for Gustav.'

But there was an interruption. A policeman who had been on guard outside the house came in and said, 'Excuse me, sir, but one of the farm labourers is here. I think you should listen to him. His name is Noakes, Joe Noakes.'

'Send him in.'

A large, burly man with a bad-tempered-looking face came in. He said he was Joseph Noakes and worked on the home farm for Mr Dyke, who ran it for the estate.

'And what have you got to tell us?'

'I seen Sir Charles and that dead woman.'

Wilkes tensed.

'Go on. When?'

'Last Satterday, it were. Her was scraping and jumping her way across the rape field. Sir Charles met her.'

'Where? Which part of the field? The middle, where the body was found?'

'No, t'war a bit towards the far side o' the field from the house.'

'Could you hear what he was saying?'

'No, I war over in t'other field. But he was waving his fists at her. Then he turned away and walked back towards the house.'

'And she was still alive?'

'Yerse,' admitted Mr Noakes with obvious reluctance.

'And then what happened?'

'I went away, didn't I, and saw nothing else.'

'Wait outside,' said Wilkes. 'We'll be taking you down to the station.'

When the door closed, he turned to Bill Wong.

'And we'll be taking Sir Charles as well. I think we've found our murderer.'

Four