Agatha Raisin Kissing Christmas Goodbye

Chapter Nine

Alison had informed Agatha that her mother-inlaw had been brought up in the village of Pirdey in Lancashire. With Toni studying a route map beside her, Agatha drove northwards out of the Cotswolds.

Rain smeared the windscreen and she switched on the wipers. A blustery wind was pulling ragged grey clouds across a large sky. Out on the motorway, spray from huge lorries made driving a misery. Agatha wished Charles had not turned down her invitation to come with them. In his company she often stopped thinking about James Lacey. Also, she liked being accompanied by a man after years of battling on her own. She sometimes felt it was still an old-fashioned world. A woman on her own was often treated by hoteliers and waiters like a second-class citizen.

She had been pleased to learn that Phyllis Tamworthy had been brought up in a village. If she had been brought up in a large city, there would be little chance of anyone remembering her, thought Agatha, forgetting that anyone who remembered Phyllis would have to be pretty old. Phyllis's maiden name had been Wright. Agatha wished it had been something more unusual.

They stopped off at a motorway restaurant to break their journey. Toni had recently read an article which stated that the diet of the working classes was still abysmal, consisting as it did of microwaveable meals and takeaway food. But Agatha was tucking into a large plate of greasy eggs and bacon with every sign of enjoyment.

Soon they were on their way again. Agatha slid a CD into the player and the strains of a Brahms symphony filled the car. She did not like classical music but was trying hard.

Toni had expected the village to be like Carsely but it was a grim little place stuck out on moorland. The rain had stopped but a yellow watery sunlight only enhanced the drabness of the place, which seemed to consist of one long straggling street. Agatha drew up outside a sub-post office and general stores. "Wait here," she said to Toni. She marched in and asked an Asian woman behind the counter where she could find some old residents.

The woman, her sari a bright splash of colour in the dingy shop, volunteered the information that the elderly residents met in the community centre at the eastern end of the village in half an hour for tea.

Agatha rejoined Toni in the car. "We need to wait for half an hour. The old folk meet up at the community centre. The woman in there says it's at the eastern end of the village."

"What's the eastern end?" asked Toni.

Agatha scowled horribly. Then she admitted, "Blessed if I know." She got out and went back into the shop, returning after a few minutes to say, "It's along on the left. We may as well wait outside until they all turn up."

The community centre was in what had once been a villa. A pokerwork sign with the legend 'The Heights' swung in the wind.

"I wonder why they call it that?" mused Toni. "The countryside around here is as flat as a pancake."

"Who cares?" snapped Agatha and Toni gave her a hurt look of surprise.

The fact was that Agatha was uncomfortable in Toni's company, the glowing youth of the young girl making her feel ancient.

To make matters worse, when the elderly began to arrive and Agatha made to get out of the car, she stifled a groan and clutched her hip. "I'll help you out," said Toni.

"Leave me alone," howled Agatha.

She rubbed her hip furiously while she watched the old folks totter up the short drive to the centre.

"Is something up with your hip?" asked Toni nervously.

"There is nothing up with me," raged Agatha. "It was that long drive."

"I can do some of the driving," said Toni. "I got my licence first time off."

"I may let you." Toni as a novice driver might give Agatha something to feel superior about.

When they entered the community centre, a stout matron was ushering men and women--mostly women--to seats at a long table where cakes and sandwiches had been laid out.

Agatha approached her. "I am a private detective," she said. "I am investigating the death of Phyllis Tamworthy, whose name when she was brought up in this village was Phyllis Wright."

"I think you should wait until they have had their tea," said the woman. "For some of them it's the only food they get. Pensions don't go far these days. I'm Gladys."

"I'm Agatha and this is Toni."

"If you and your daughter would like to sit over in the corner, I'll ask them when they've settled down."

"She's not my..." began Agatha, but Gladys had walked away.

Agatha watched the elderly ladies. She watched the wrinkled hands, some of them trembling as they reached for sandwiches. Is this what we all must come to? she wondered sadly.

Toni covertly watched Agatha. Had she offended her in some way? She owed Agatha so much. Gratitude did weigh heavily, like a physical load.

"I'm sorry," said Agatha suddenly. "I'm feeling a bit off-colour. I think if we find anything worthwhile here, we'll check into a hotel somewhere."

Toni was about to say she would not mind driving back, but stopped herself. She had a feeling that the ferociously independent Agatha Raisin wouldn't like that suggestion.

There was very little conversation amongst the elderly. For long periods, the only sounds were the clinking of cups and the chewing of jaws.

At last Gladys strode into the centre of the room. "Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "these ladies want to know if anyone remembers...who was it?"

"Phyllis Wright," said Agatha.

There was a gentle murmuring and then a very old lady croaked out. "I 'member her. She were at t'school same time as me."

Another one said, "War she the fatty in Miss Gilchrist's class?"

"Aye, that be her," said the first woman. "Teacher's pet. Allus sucking up to teacher and putting on airs but she warn't nobody."

"I don't suppose Miss Gilchrist is still alive," said Agatha.

"Her died...when was it?" said the first woman.

"Right after her gave Phyllis a right bollocking. Said her had cheated."

"What did she die of?" asked Agatha.

"What's your name?"

"Agatha."

"I'm Joan and this here is Rose. Her died o' a heart attack and her so young. Course she seemed old to us then but she was about thirty or so."

"When did Phyllis leave the village?"

Joan sighed. "Good thing you're asking us about them old days. Can't right remember yesterday, but the old days are as clear as clear. Let me see. Her was working over at Bessop's Factory. Sauce makers they were. Now Hugh Tamworthy, he war a brickie and he war engaged to Carrie Shufflebottom. Then he won the pools. Next thing we know, Phyllis had got her hands on him and they disappeared for a bit and came back married. The brickworks over at Rumton was going under and Hugh bought it. They took a bungalow out o' the village in the country cos no one in the village would speak to them cos o' Carrie."

"Where is Carrie now?" asked Agatha.

"You'll find her at Sun Cottage, right at the end. Go back past the post office and out that way. The last one you come to."

Outside, Toni said, "Phyllis is beginning to sound like one copper-bottomed bitch."

"Let's hope this Carrie has all her marbles," said Agatha. "Seems a shame. Those two we were talking to must be the same age as Phyllis was and yet Phyllis seemed pretty hail and hearty. Oh, God," said Agatha passionately, "I hope I don't end up like those poor old souls."

Sun Cottage belied its name. It faced north and was built of red brick, still sooty from the days of coal.

"I wonder if Carrie ever married?" Agatha pushed open a rickety wooden gate and led the way through a small weedy front garden. She rang the bell. A dingy lace curtain at a window to the right of the door twitched. Then the door opened.

Carrie Shufflebottom was proof that even the tremendously obese can live to old age. She was a massive woman with a large round rosy face and faded blue eyes. Her iron-grey hair was still thick.

"What?" she demanded.

Agatha patiently explained what they were doing and what they wanted to know.

"You'd best come in," she said, turning away, her large hips brushing against each wall of a narrow passage.

They followed her into a dark front parlour. The room was cold and sparsely furnished. Carrie sank down into a large battered armchair. Agatha and Toni sat on an equally battered sofa. A canary in a cage by the window chirped dismally and a rising wind moaned in the chimney. A grandfather clock in the corner gave a genteel cough before chiming out the hour.

"I'm not offering you tea," said Carrie. "I've just had mine." Cake crumbs were strewn across her bosom. She was wearing a man's shirt and tracksuit bottoms and trainers.

"So you want to know if anyone from around here might have wanted to murder Phyllis?" said Carrie. Her voice was surprisingly light and pleasant and not marred by the strong local accent of the villagers they had met. "I could have murdered her myself. Hugh Tamworthy was a good man. But innocent. The minute he won that pools money, she threw herself at him. She made my life a misery when we were both at school, poking fun at my name. I only saw Hugh one more time after his wedding. About two years after they were married he called round here, right out of the blue. He was that upset. I hoped for one mad moment that he'd come back to me." She gave a wry smile. "Men can be so insensitive. He came to tell me he'd fallen in love with a girl who worked in the office at the brickworks. He said he was going to ask Phyllis for a divorce. He said Phyllis didn't want children and he'd always wanted children. The girl's name was Susan Mason. I'm afraid I lost my temper and told him to get out. I said he'd jilted me and hurt me badly."

"But he didn't divorce Phyllis," said Agatha.

"I heard later two things had happened. Phyllis was pregnant with her first child and Susan had disappeared. She left the office one night and no one saw her again. The search went on and on but they never found her. Phyllis had a hell of a temper. She probably threatened the girl. Soon afterwards, they sold the brickworks and bought another one down south somewhere."

"Did you ever marry?" asked Toni.

"I decided to get an education. I went to university and ended up teaching at the village school until the government closed it down. Not a very adventurous life. No, I never married."

"Are any of Susan's family still alive?"

"There's a younger sister over in Stoke. Wanda. She married quite well. Married an accountant. What was his name? I know. Mark Nicholson. Hand me that phone book over there."

'Over there' was the floor under the table. Toni handed her the phone book and she riffled through the pages. "Here we are. This must be him. Take a note." Agatha fished a notebook out of her handbag. "Mark Nicholson, 5, Cherry Tree Close, Stafford Road, Stoke-on-Trent."

Toni drove Agatha in the direction of Stoke. Agatha, feeling the pain in her hip was getting worse, let her take over. To Agatha's irritation, Toni drove easily and well. "We'd better stop somewhere and get a street map," said Agatha. "There's a newsagent's."

Toni parked neatly between two cars. Agatha scowled. She herself still needed the length of a truck to park properly.

Toni darted into the shop and came out brandishing a street map. "Let me have it," ordered Agatha, who was hating not being in control. She studied it and then said, "We're in luck. It's on this side of Stoke. Go straight ahead through three roundabouts and turn sharp left at the fourth. That's Stafford Road. Cherry Tree Close is the third on the left."

The close was one of those builders' developments where an effort had been made to make every house look different and yet the final result was that they all looked the same. They were two-storeyed houses built of grey stone. The uniform-sized windows gazed blankly out over small neat gardens. "Isn't it odd that Phyllis never mentioned having had a previous brickworks?" said Agatha.

"Maybe ashamed of herself for having ruined Carrie's engagement and frightened off Susan"

"I wonder. There's number 5. Let's hope some one's at home."

Toni rang the bell. They waited and waited but there was no reply. "Let's get back to the car and wait," said Agatha.

"She might be at work," remarked Toni. "Maybe not. She would be near to Phyllis's age. So she would probably be retired." Agatha lit a cigarette. "I wonder if it'll snow this Christmas"

"Can you remember a white Christmas?" asked Toni.

"Not one. This global warming would just come along when nobody wants it," complained Agatha.

Toni repressed a smile. The scientists were worried about global warming, governments were worried about it, but Agatha Raisin was fed up because she wouldn't have a white Christmas. She said, "Never mind. It's usually dark and dreary in December and if you have a tree and a lot of lights and decorations, it'll look very pretty."

"I've an awful lot of people to invite," said Agatha. "I don't think my dining room will hold them all."

"Is there a hall in the village?"

"Yes, but it's pretty dingy."

"Still, you could decorate it and hide the dinginess. Or maybe you could get extra tables and put them together so that they ran from the dining room across the hall and into the living room," said Toni.

Agatha brightened. "Now, that might work. A lot of the Ladies' Society were fed up because I didn't invite them to the last one."

"Someone's coming," said Toni. "A car's arriving."

A new Audi moved past them and drove up and into the garage at the side of number 5. "Good," said Agatha. "Let's go."

The woman getting out of her car looked at them curiously. She was slim and well preserved with dyed blonde hair, large, slightly protruding hazel eyes, a small mouth, and a long thin nose.

A Hermes scarf was tied tightly round her neck.

Agatha judged her to be in her seventies and that she had had some plastic surgery.

Agatha went up to her and explained who they were and why they were there.

"I don't know that I can help you," said Wanda. "I mean, what can you do after all these years? The police searched everywhere."

"Did they interview Phyllis Tamworthy?"

"Oh, yes. Over and over again. Hugh Tamworthy was going to get a divorce and marry my sister. I think Phyllis frightened her into running away. But she didn't take any of her clothes or her passport."

"Did you read in the newspapers that Phyllis was murdered?"

"Yes, and I was glad to hear someone had at last got the guts to bump the horrible woman off."

"Do you know where the Tamworthys lived when they were up here?" asked Toni.

"They had a bungalow in Rumton."

"Where exactly?" asked Toni eagerly.

Agatha looked at her in surprise.

"I'm sure it was at Rumton near the old brickworks. They've closed down now and it's a nursery and garden furniture place."

Agatha longed to ask Wanda where she was on the day that Phyllis was murdered but knew that only the police could really go around asking questions like that.

Instead she asked, "Can you think of anyone from Phyllis's past who might have wanted to kill her?"

"Carrie Shufflebottom hated Phyllis for taking Hugh away. She was engaged to him. But she was always a gentle soul."

Back in the car, Agatha rounded on Toni. "Why did you want to know where that bungalow was?"

Toni's eyes shone with excitement. "Don't you see? Phyllis may have bumped her off"

"We're looking for who killed Phyllis, not who Phyllis killed."

"But if she was a murderess, then that would be even more motive for someone to kill her"

"Oh, very well," said Agatha sulkily.

They found the bungalow by asking at the nursery. An old lady answered the door to them. Is everyone around here ancient? thought Agatha. Will we all end up in Carsely supporting ourselves on our Zimmer frames? She explained who they were and why they were visiting.

"I remember Phyllis and Susan," said the old lady. "I'm Pearl Dawson. Come in."

They went into a cluttered parlour, redolent of old body, peppermints and pine disinfectant. Mrs Dawson seemed to be crippled with arthritis. She winced as she lowered herself into a chair. "I need two hip replacements," she sighed. "But I've been waiting two and a half years now." As if to mock her, a voice from a small television set in the corner announced: "Today the government said that the National Health Service has cut waiting lists dramatically."

"Oh, turn that thing off," said Pearl. "Nothing but lies."

She was very thin and very wrinkled, with pink scalp showing through strands of grey hair.

"Now, what can I tell you?" she went on. "I mind Susan. Such a pretty, jolly girl. Something bad happened to her. She'd never have run away."

Toni said bluntly, "Do you think Phyllis might have killed her?"

Pearl looked shocked. "Never even crossed my mind."

"Let's just suppose," said Toni eagerly, "that Phyllis was sweet to Susan and offered her a lift home. Did you hear if there was anyone else around when she left the office?"

"I heard she was working late," said Pearl. "The gossips said she often worked late, and Hugh Tamworthy as well. But he didn't that night. Phyllis had sent him into Stoke to pick up some curtain material she had chosen. It was late-night shopping there. Maybe Susan was waiting for him to call back. Some of the brickies said she was in love with Hugh."

"So," said Toni excitedly, "Phyllis kills her. She's got to get rid of the body. Is there anywhere round about here where one could hide a body?"

Pearl smiled. "You do have a good imagination, young lady. There's the garden, but nothing's been done to that for ages. There's an old well but the police searched that."

Agatha began to get interested. If the police had been searching around the bungalow, they must have wondered about Phyllis.

"Anywhere else?" she asked.

"Can't think of anywhere. There's the old privy out back. No one could take it down because it's listed as being of historical importance. Imagine! An old Victorian toilet being of interest to anyone."

"Do you mind if we have a look?" asked Agatha.

"Suit yourself. It's up at the end of the back garden. If you don't mind, I'll stay here. It hurts to move."

"What is the name of your Member of Parliament?" asked Agatha.

"Mr Wither. Why?"

"Have you thought of phoning him to complain about not getting your hip replacements?"

"I couldn't do that!"

"Well, I could," said Agatha truculently. "Where's the phone book? The House isn't sitting at the moment, so he should be at home."

Agatha was full of surprises, thought Toni as she listened to Agatha Raisin in full bullying mode berating the Member of Parliament.

When she at last put down the phone, she grinned and said, "Good. That's settled. He's getting on to the hospital right away. I'll phone you next week and make sure someone is doing something about it. You must remember that she who screams the loudest gets the best service."

As Pearl stammered out her thanks, they headed out of the house and round to the weedy overgrown garden at the back.

"Just look at that!" said Agatha in disgust, pointing to the privy at the end of the garden. "It's practically fallen down. The council will stop anyone from getting rid of the dreadful thing and yet they won't do anything to keep it repaired."

They stumbled through weeds and tussocks of grass. The wooden door of the privy was hanging on its hinges. Agatha jerked it open and then jumped back as the rusty hinges snapped and the door fell into the garden.

"It was about to fall off anyway," she said. They peered inside. The toilet itself had been removed. Nothing but an earthen floor and a few rusting garden implements showing it had once been used as a garden shed.

"So, now, Miss Bright Ideas," said Agatha, "do we dig up the floor?"

"What else?" said Toni cheerfully. "There's a spade over there that looks as if it might still stand the strain."

"I think you're wasting your time. I saw a garden seat among the weeds. I'm going there for a smoke. It's all yours."

Toni started to dig and then stopped as she heard a scream from the garden.

She ran out. Agatha had sat down on a rotting wooden garden chair which had collapsed under her, tumbling her on to the grass.

Toni helped her up, trying not to laugh.

"Snakes and bastards," howled Agatha. "The grass is wet. Oh, get on with it, Toni, and I'll sit on the back step at the kitchen door."

Toni went back to digging. The earth was hardpacked. Once she got through the surface layer, the going became easier. She persevered, sweat running down her face. She stopped for a moment and looked out the door. Agatha was sitting, blowing smoke up into the grey sky, a dreamy look on her face.

Probably dreaming of a white Christmas, thought Toni and went back to work. But as her arms began to ache, she felt foolish. What a stupid, wild idea. She went out and called to Agatha that she was going to fill the hole in again. As she turned round, a shaft of sunlight cut through the clouds and shone straight into the hole in the privy. There was a small knob of something yellowish-white showing through the earth at the bottom of the hole. Heart beating hard, Toni lay down on the floor and began to scrape the earth away with her fingers. The top of what looked like a skull was gradually exposed.

Toni got slowly to her feet. Her knees were trembling.

"Agatha!" she called. "I've found something."

Agatha and Toni met up several hours later in the reception area of Stoke police station. "Are you psychic or something?" grumbled Agatha. "Got gypsy blood? How did you guess Phyllis might have killed Susan?"

"It seemed logical," said Toni. "I mean, who else would have wanted to get rid of her?"

"Oh, well, I suppose we'd better find somewhere to stay the night," said Agatha, stifling a yawn.

"The detectives who interviewed me said we could go back home," said Toni. "Just so long as we report to Mircester tomorrow. I don't mind driving."

"All right. I want to see if my cats are all right." As Toni drove steadily down the motorways, Agatha kept glancing over at her. This is how Samson must have felt when his hair was cut, she thought. Toni's a terrific asset but she does make me feel old and dithering. And I am not old! Today's fifties are yesterday's forties, or so they say.

She wanted to assert herself by taking over the driving, but her eyelids began to droop and soon she was fast asleep.

"Wake up. You're home!" Toni's voice roused her up from the depths. Agatha rubbed her eyes.

"Can't be. I can't have been asleep all that time."

"You obviously needed it," said Toni cheerfully. "If you call me a taxi, I'll get home myself."

Agatha was about to suggest that Toni stayed the night at her place but then realized the girl would probably like to get to her own place for a change of clothes in the morning.

"Come inside," she said, "and I'll phone for a cab."

Agatha's cats came purring up to meet her. She looked at her watch. Three in the morning! Her stomach rumbled. She wondered whether she should offer Toni any food but was suddenly desperate to get rid of her. Agatha telephoned for a taxi, told Toni it would take twenty minutes, and went upstairs to the bathroom.

She paused on the landing. The faint sounds of snoring were coming from the spare bedroom. She looked in through the open door. Charles was sprawled on his back, fast asleep.

Agatha, reluctant to go downstairs and join Toni, undressed, took a quick shower, put on a nightdress, slippers and a kimono, and then went back down to the kitchen.

Toni was fast asleep, her head on the kitchen table. Agatha made herself a cup of black coffee and lit a cigarette. The sign on the packet said, "You may injure others with passive smoking"

"Screw you," muttered Agatha, but she went and opened the kitchen door.

The trouble is, she thought, I've always been a sort of one-woman band. I've always believed I was a clever detective, but I think I've simply been lucky and now I've got someone luckier than me. Then she smiled. Finding a skeleton in a toilet would not be many people's idea of luck. But why had Toni leaped so quickly to the idea that Phyllis might have murdered Susan? I hope my mind isn't ageing, thought Agatha. Good, there's the taxi.

She shook Toni awake and the girl stumbled out sleepily to the cab. "Don't come in until noon," said Agatha, "and then we'll go to the police station together."

Agatha retreated to the kitchen, took a packaged curry out of the fridge and popped it into the microwave. She stared as it went round and round until it pinged. She ate it out of the container, then shooed the cats back in from the garden, shut the door and crawled off to bed. Oh, for a good night's sleep!

She was awakened, it seemed to her, ten minutes later by Charles shaking her. "The police are downstairs."

Agatha groaned. "What's the time?"

"Nine o'clock. What have you been up to now?"

"Let me get dressed. What police?"

"Bill Wong and Detective Inspector Wilkes"

"Buzz off and give them coffee or something." Agatha dressed hurriedly and headed for the stairs. Then she realized she had forgotten to put make-up on. She scurried back to the bathroom and made her face up in front of a magnifying mirror. "Toni doesn't need make-up," she muttered. "Blast Toni."

Wilkes looked at Agatha sternly as she entered the kitchen. He had a sheaf of faxes in front of him on the kitchen table. "I'm very tired," complained Agatha. "Toni and I were interviewed for hours up at Stoke."

"But I am interested in the murder of Phyllis Tamworthy," said Wilkes sternly. "Detective Sergeant Wong, you are on duty here, so take that cat off your neck."

Bill sheepishly removed Hodge from his shoulders and Boswell from his lap. Agatha felt a little stab of pleasure that they had come to her first and not to Toni, quickly banished when Wilkes said, "We have already interviewed Miss Gilmour. She claims that she was suddenly struck with the idea that Phyllis Tamworthy might be a murderess and might have murdered Susan Mason."

"It did seem an odd flight of fancy at the time," said Agatha. "Charles, please get me a cup of coffee."

"But Miss Gilmour told me the idea came to her after the evidence you had collected."

"What evidence?" asked Agatha.

"Mrs Tamworthy had ruthlessly taken Hugh away from his fiancee the minute he had that pools win. Then there was something about her being teacher's pet at school, and then the teacher going off her and subsequently dying."

"Oh, that evidence," said Agatha weakly. "Yes, we both began to decide that Phyllis was a much nastier person than we had even begun to imagine. That was why I encouraged my detective to go ahead and dig up that privy."

And then Wilkes said those words Agatha had been beginning to dread. "Let's begin at the beginning, Mrs Raisin."

Agatha wearily described their trip to the north and told him about everyone they had spoken to and what they had said, right up until Toni found the skeleton.

"You see," she ended by saying, "I thought it might have something to do with Phyllis's past. When will you get the DNA result from the skeleton?"

"Don't think we'll need it," said Wilkes. "Susan Mason's handbag was down the hole with her bank book in it, and some fragments of clothing, and with a bit of luck we'll match the dentistry done on the teeth today sometime. What makes you think Phyllis might be the culprit? What about Hugh Tamworthy?"

"If he was weak enough to let Phyllis bully him into marrying her, then I can't see him having the guts or the reason to bump off Susan, a girl he genuinely seems to have been in love with. Oh, and when she was at school, Phyllis fell out with her schoolteacher. Said schoolteacher died shortly afterwards."

"We'll look into that. I think it would be better if you kept well out of it from now on, Mrs Raisin."

"What!" screeched Agatha. "You wouldn't ever have found that skeleton if it hadn't been for a brilliant piece of deduction." Agatha became aware that Charles was looking at her cynically. "...by Toni," she added. "Besides, I'm being employed by the family."

"All right. Confine your investigations to the family and to whoever murdered Mrs Tamworthy," said Wilkes. "But suspend your activities for a week or so and leave the police to do their job."

Agatha showed them out. The postman was just arriving. Agatha waited hopefully until he handed her a small pile of correspondence. She flicked through and found a highly coloured postcard of Tonga. She turned it over and read: "Working hard on the latest travel book. Will be back for Christmas. You'd love the sunshine here. Love, James."

She smiled with delight. She would make it a Christmas to remember.

Back in the kitchen, she put the postcard on the table and thumbed through the rest. "Junk mail and bills," she said.

"Who's the postcard from?"

"James."

"Aha. That explains the smile on your lips and the shine in your eyes. It's a dead duck, Aggie."

"Oh, shut up. I've got to get into the office, although I could do with some more sleep."

"Then go back to bed. You're the boss."

"No, I can't sleep now. I've got to get out to that blasted manor and see how they're all taking this latest development. Coming with me?"

"Why not?"

"I'd better get Doris to house-sit. The new cooker's arriving today."

"Cooker? Is this for Christmas? Decided to char another bird after all?"

"No, I'm not only getting a caterer, but a chef as well. I've ordered a decent turkey and I don't want to risk getting one of those nasty frozen supermarket ones if I leave it all to the caterers. I'll just phone Patrick and Phil as well and see how they are getting on and then we'll be off."

"How is Phil, by the way?"

"No bad effects after his lightning recovery. He's a tough old boy."

It was a steel-grey day as they drove towards the manor house. Flocks of migrating birds drew arrows across the sky. Coloured leaves spiralled down in front of the car. "It really is quite cold," said Agatha. "Perhaps it will snow this Christmas."

"It never snows at Christmas. You're building all this up to an unhealthy level."

"Nothing is going to go wrong."

"Except the final death of romance."

Agatha did not deign to reply as she turned into the gates of the manor.

"Can't see any police cars," said Charles.

"Maybe they've all gone off to their respective homes," said Agatha, "and the police are interviewing them there."

Jill, the groom, came round the side of the house as they were getting out of the car.

"Family at home?" asked Agatha.

"They're all at the funeral. They'll be back from the crematorium any minute now."

Agatha said, "I didn't know the body had been released for burial."

"Yes, about a week ago. I suppose it's all right if you go inside. Some women from the village are preparing sandwiches and things."

"I wonder if that's wise," said Charles as they walked into the manor. "Don't eat any sandwiches with green in them. Could be hemlock."

They could hear a clatter of plates coming from the kitchen. "Where will we wait?" asked Agatha. "I mean, it might look a bit cheeky to be found in the drawing room like guests."

"Particularly as it looks as if you've exposed dear Mama as a murderess."

"I didn't think of that. They may not know. I mean, the police won't tell them anything until they have more proof. It's not as if any one of them were even born at the time. Phyllis was pregnant with the first one as far as I remember. I'm beginning to wonder what sort of man Hugh Tamworthy really was."

"Sick," said Charles laconically while he pushed open doors. "Look, there's a little room here."

"Used to be the morning room. We can wait here." Agatha followed him in. "What do you mean, sick?"

"Sick people gravitate to sick people. The formerly abused child marries a wife beater. The child of an alcoholic may not become one but ten to one will marry one. There are professional victims and martyrs all over the place...like you."

"Just what do you mean by that?" snarled Agatha.

"A normal person wouldn't have put up with James for a minute."

"I'll have you know, both my parents were alcoholics and I am not one, neither is James. I could do with a drink right now, mind you."

"I hear them arriving." Charles walked to the window. "The men have black ties but the women are wearing their usual clothes. Just them, no one from the village except the ones in the kitchen and they're only here because they're being paid."

Agatha opened the door. "I'll waylay Alison. She isn't a member of the family except by marriage and she didn't like Phyllis."

She went out into the hall. Bert, Jimmy, Sadie, Fran and Sir Henry Field saw Agatha but simply walked past her into the drawing room. Alison came hurrying in after them and stopped short at the sight of Agatha.

"I'm surprised you should call at such a time," she said.

"You haven't heard?"

"Haven't heard what?"

"You'd better come into the morning room. There's been a new development."

Alison walked in, nodded to Sir Charles and demanded, "What?"

Agatha told her about finding the skeleton and the fact that Phyllis might have killed Susan.

Alison sat down and put her head in her hands. "This is awful," she mumbled.

"So this is the first you've heard of it?" asked Charles.

"Yes, I'd better tell the others. Wait here."

She got unsteadily to her feet. Charles put out an arm to help her but she gave him a weak smile. "I'll be all right."

She closed the door behind her.

"It's odd," said Agatha. "I'm actually beginning to feel sorry for the lot of them. What a mother! Let's hope it doesn't get round the village or we'll have all the press you can think of running around the place."

"Gosh," said Charles. He wrenched open the door. Two women from the village were standing across the hall, their ears pressed to the panel of the drawing-room door. "What are you doing?" shouted Charles. "Get back to the kitchen!"

He turned to Agatha. "We'd better sit in the hall in case they come back. That's torn it. There's no use telling them not to talk and we've nothing to threaten them with."

Someone in the drawing room was sobbing. They waited and waited. A couple of times the kitchen door opened a crack and then closed again.

At last Alison came out. "They want you to leave. Jimmy looks on the point of breakdown. This is something I know nothing about. So I can't help you either. I really don't think you should be here on such a day. I'll call at your office if I have any news."

In the office, Mrs Freedman said, "Phil came in. I sent him home. I hope you don't mind. I said it was too early."

"Poor man," exclaimed Agatha. "I'd better go and see him. What are Toni and Patrick doing?"

"Patrick's working on a divorce and Toni's out looking for a missing teenager."

"I've got things to do," said Charles. "I'll leave you to look after Phil. Drop me at your cottage and I'll pick up my car."

When Agatha arrived at Phil's cottage in Carsely, it was to find Mrs Bloxby there.

"I just brought Mr Marshall some of my chicken soup," said the vicar's wife.

"I haven't brought you anything, Phil," said Agatha. "But wait until you both hear the latest development. First, how are you, Phil?"

"I'm fine. I really would like to get back to work."

"Maybe tomorrow. Now listen to this..."

When she had finished the story of the skeleton, Mrs Bloxby exclaimed in horror, "That woman was truly evil!"

"They'll have a devil of a job proving she did it after all this time, and with the case load the police have these days, they might not even try too hard. I mean, the murder was done either by Phyllis or Hugh or both of them. But Hugh was off on an errand for Phyllis, and -"

Her mobile phone rang. It was Doris Simpson. "Could you get back to the cottage? The men are here with the cooker but everything's got to be moved to fit it in."

"I'll be right there," said Agatha. She rang off. "Got to go."

When Agatha had left, Mrs Bloxby said, "Agatha needs a psychiatrist."

"Mrs Bloxby!"

"No, I don't mean for herself. I mean she should sit down with one of those police psychiatrists and tell him all she knows about Phyllis Tamworthy and her children."

"I might be able to help there," said Phil. "There's a retired psychiatrist who dealt with criminals. He lives in Bourton-on-the-Water. His name is Dr Drayton. I hope he's still alive."

Agatha passed what she considered a wasted day. Anything to do with domesticity Agatha considered a wasted day. Electricians and plumbers had to be brought in to move the fridge and dishwasher and refit them to leave space for the large cooker. When everything was finished, the cooker sat there, squat, shiny and big, looking totally out of place.

When the men had finally gone, Agatha's phone rang. It was to be the first of many newspapers. The story had got out. How Agatha longed to take the credit for finding that skeleton. The only thing that stopped her was that Charles would lecture her and Toni would put her down as a jealous old bat.

Toni was in her flat having tea with George Pyson when Agatha rang her. George had just delivered one very comfortable leather armchair and a sturdy round pine table and had carried the ones those replaced down to his Land Rover, so Toni had made him tea.

"Toni," said Agatha, "get your glad rags on and full make-up and get to Carsely. The press will be here to interview you quite soon."

"Do I have to?" pleaded Toni. "You could handle it."

"They want you," said Agatha gruffly. "So hurry up."

Toni told George what had happened. He looked at her outfit critically. She was in her usual jeans and T-shirt.

"Have you got high heels and a skirt?"

"Yes."

"I'll wait in the car while you change. You don't need much make-up except lipstick and mascara."

Agatha opened the door to them an hour later and looked gloomily at Toni. The girl looked as if she had legs up to her armpits and with her eyelashes darkened, her eyes seemed even larger.

"The press, some of them, are in the sitting room."

Toni entered and blinked. Crammed into Agatha's sitting room were reporters, photographers and television cameramen.

Agatha listened sourly as Toni, falteringly at first, and then gaining confidence, told her story.

Then Toni was asked, "Why did you guess a body might be there? What made you leap to that conclusion?"

Toni smiled. "I work for Mrs Agatha Raisin, who must be one of the most brilliant detectives in the country. She taught me everything I know. She encourages me to use my imagination. She could easily have said, "Don't be silly," but she said I was to go ahead."

God bless the girl, thought Agatha as the press began to demand photographs of them together.

When the session was finally over and Agatha was showing them out, she noticed George Pyson sitting in the Land Rover outside.

She turned and said to Toni, "What's he doing here?"

"He drove me over." For some reason Toni felt that it would not be wise to tell Agatha about the furniture. Agatha seemed to disapprove of George.

"Of course. You don't have a car," said Agatha. "We'll get one tomorrow. Invite George in and I'll open a bottle of wine."

Terry Gilmour watched his sister on television's late-night news. He felt bitter and mean with jealousy. The house was like a tip, strewn with bottles and cans and empty pizza cartons. His mother had suddenly appeared the day before. Shaky but stone cold sober, she had announced she was going to stay with an old school friend in Southampton who had managed to get off the booze and who was going to help her.

He began to cry drunkenly. He had no one to turn to. Even his friends were beginning to make excuses not to see him. He dimly remembered punching one of them in the face two nights before, but the rest of the evening was lost to him.

"I'll make them all sorry!" he shouted to the uncaring messy room.

Agatha studied George carefully and watched him closely when he talked to Toni, but she could detect no romantic interest there. A voice in her not usually overworked conscience was telling her that she was behaving like a jealous old maid. The phone rang and she went to answer it. It was her young friend, Roy Silver.

"What's been going on?" he cried. "Finding a skeleton? You might have told me."

"As you can imagine, I'm busy. Press by the hordes."

"Press?" Roy was always trying to get himself some publicity. "Can I come down this weekend?"

"All right. But you might have to sleep on the sofa if Charles is using the spare room."

"See you."

George had got up to leave. "Do be careful," he said. "There's still a murderer out there."

After he had gone, taking Toni with him, Agatha received a phone call from Phil.

"Mrs Bloxby had this great idea," said Phil. "She says what you need is a psychiatrist." Agatha felt a stab of hurt. "I'm surprised--" she was beginning furiously when Phil interrupted. "No, not for you. A retired police psychiatrist. We tell him everything we know about Phyllis and he might guess that there was something in her character which made her into a murderee."

"I don't need a shrink for that," said Agatha. "She murdered someone herself by the look of things, so it's easy to imagine someone wanted to kill her. In fact, there must be so many people who wanted to kill her, I don't know where to start."

"I've made an appointment for us," said Phil. "Of course, I can always cancel it."

"May as well give it a try," said Agatha. "Where? What time?"

"He lives in Bourton-on-the-Water. Ten tomorrow morning."

"Not far. I'll pick you up at half nine."

Agatha yawned and stretched. Time for a good night's sleep. If only one hadn't got to eat the whole time. She was poking about in her freezer when the doorbell rang.

Probably Charles, she thought, and, not bothering to look through the spyhole, she swung the door open. Jimmy Tamworthy stood on the step, his face white, his eyes glittering. "I want a word with you," he hissed.

"It's late," said Agatha, barring the doorway. "Call on me at my office tomorrow."

"You'll hear me now, you bitch. How dare you go around saying my mother was a murderer! I could kill you."

"Another time," babbled Agatha. She nipped inside and slammed the door in his face. She crouched down in a chair in the kitchen while he rang the bell and hammered and kicked the door. Why aren't I phoning the police? she thought.

Why am I such a wimp?

She marched back to the door and shouted, "I've called the police!"

There was a sudden silence. Then a final kick at the door. A car door slammed and she peered through the spyhole and saw him driving off.

Agatha phoned Bill Wong at home, having to tell his formidable mother that it was a matter of life and death before she would call her son.

Bill listened carefully and said, "We should arrest him."

"I don't know. Could you maybe just give him a warning, Bill? I can't help thinking that if I had had a mother like Phyllis, I'd be off my trolley as well."

"All right. I'll speak to him tomorrow and put the fear of death into him. Hang on a minute. My mobile's ringing."

He seemed to be gone a long time. Then he finally came back on the phone and said, "You'd better get over to Toni's flat. The police are on their way."

"What's happened?"

"That wretched brother of hers has hanged himself."

"Oh, God. I'll go immediately."

Agatha was gathering up her belongings, ready to leave, when she froze in horror. A key was turning in her front door. She ran into the kitchen and seized a carving knife.

When she returned to the hall, brandishing the knife, it was to find Charles smiling at her.

"Going to kill me, Aggie?"

"How did you get in?"

"I copied your keys."

"Snakes and bastards! How dare you? Oh, never mind. We've got to get to Toni's. Her brother has hanged himself."

When they arrived at Toni's flat, it was to find her being attended by a policewoman.

"Is there anything I can do?" asked Agatha.

Toni rose from the sofa where she had been sitting with her friend, Maggie, and flung her arms around Agatha and burst into tears.

"There, there," said Agatha, patting the girl awkwardly on the back. "We'll see you through this. Do you know where your mother is?"

Toni dried her tears. "She sent me a letter the other day. The police have contacted her. Her friend is driving her up from Southampton."

Agatha asked the policewoman, "Did he leave a note?"

"Fortunately he did. Trying to make everyone feel guilty."

"Will you need Miss Gilmour tonight? I'd like to take her home with me."

"I need to stay here for my mother," said Toni.

"Does she need to identify the body tonight?" Agatha asked the policewoman.

"No, tomorrow will do." She turned to Toni. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to let me phone for a doctor? He could give you something to make you sleep."

Toni shook her head.

"When was he found?" asked Agatha.

"Two hours ago."

"But Bill Wong phoned me not so long ago."

"He's off duty. Probably one of his colleagues at the station realized Miss Gilmour is part of the murder inquiry we're investigating and phoned him."

The doorbell rang. "Can't be your mother already," said Agatha.

"It'll be George," said Toni. "I got Maggie here to phone him."

Agatha felt slightly miffed that Toni had not thought to phone her.

George Pyson came into the room. "There's a bed and breakfast down the street. I've booked a double room for your mother and her friend. I know the owner. She's very kind. She says if I phone her when they are due to arrive, she'll get up to let them in."

"Do you want us to wait?" asked Agatha, feeling superfluous.

"No," said Toni weakly. "I think George will take care of everything. And my friend, Maggie, says she'll stay the night."

As they drove off, Agatha said, "You know, he must be interested in her. But he's too old."

"He's only in his early thirties and he's a goodlooking fellow. Don't interfere."

"I've invested a lot of time and money in that girl," said Agatha. "Next thing, she'll be off, married to George and too pregnant to do any work."

"I never thought of you as being mercenary, Aggie."

"I'm a businesswoman, I'll have you know."

"Quite. But bug out."