Agatha Raisin Love, Lies and Liquor

Roy read it carefully. “She sounds mad.”

“She might not be. I might read about her death in the newspapers and feel guilty.”

“It’s a nice day,” said Roy. The morning mist was lifting. Agatha’s cats, Hodge and Boswell, were chasing each other over the lawn. “We could both go over and talk to her.”

“Wouldn’t do any harm,” said Agatha. “That way we’ll find out whether she’s bonkers or not.”