There Goes The Bride

Chapter Four

MRS BLOXBY WAS eager to hear their news when they called on her the following morning. When they had finished, she said, ‘But surely there must be a lot of forensic evidence. If someone climbed that tree, they must have left traces of fibres or hair on the bark.’

‘It’s hard to know anything when one isn’t a member of the police force,’ grumbled Agatha. ‘I’m going back down there today.’

‘Mr Mulligan seems to be able to extract information,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to send him back there?’

But Agatha felt that she was the one who had been employed to find the murderer and didn’t want an employee to steal any of the glory. ‘He needs to run things in the office,’ she said. ‘I’ll call in on him before I leave for Downboys. Anyway, it’s hardly like one of those CSI programmes. It’ll take them ages to get any forensics results out of the lab.’

‘Must have been someone who knew the family well,’ said Charles. ‘I mean, the murderer knew about the bedroom and about that tree. You said she hadn’t been having any sex with James and she was a bit of a nympho, so she might have been getting it somewhere else, say, from a lover who was in the habit of nipping up that tree and into her bedroom window. What kind of tree is it?’

‘It’s an old cedar,’ said Agatha. ‘You could practically walk up it, and there’s great concealment with all those heavy branches.’

‘If she was that good in bed,’ Charles pointed out, ‘someone could have become obsessed with her, someone her father wouldn’t dream of letting her marry. She may have been the bicycle of the village.’

‘Sir Charles!’ admonished Mrs Bloxby.

‘It’s a good point.’ Agatha sighed. ‘I’d better get going. Coming with me, Charles?’

‘Maybe I’ll follow you down.’

Patrick gloomily said that he didn’t have much further news, although he had already phoned his contact in Hewes that morning. All he could say was that Jerry did not seem to have a criminal record and the police were combing the grounds and dredging the river.

‘What river?’ asked Agatha.

‘The river Frim. It’s at the boundary of the property. Bross keeps a boat there.’

Agatha checked and found that Patrick and Phil seemed to be coping well and set off on the long journey to Downboys. She stopped on the way for a greasy breakfast, having not bothered to eat anything earlier. She phoned Toni and asked her to meet her at the pub at one o’clock.

Toni was in the pub lounge bar. She jumped up as Agatha came in and said, ‘I’ve lots of news. Did you find out anything?’

‘Only the make of gun and that the cedar tree was ideal for concealment and also that forensics will take ages to find anything.’

Toni’s eyes gleamed. ‘But the scene of crimes operatives found lots and I’m not surprised. They found hairs and traces of fibres from different sets of clothing, beer cans and chewing gum.’

‘What! Have we got an amateur murderer?’

‘No, we’ve got the village boys. I chatted up some of the local youth in the pub last night. It seems that dear Felicity was in the habit of doing a slow striptease with the lights on and the window open before she went to bed.’

‘But the dogs! All that security!’

‘They laughed and said the dogs were pussycats and Jerry is such a drunk he often passes out and forgets to feed them. They take along dog biscuits and meat and things and they’ve made pets of the beasts. They said you can sneak in and up to the house from the river side. They stopped laughing when I told them that the police were collecting every bit of evidence from in and around that tree.’

‘Did they ever see anyone actually getting into her bedroom by the window?’

‘One of them, Bert Trymp, a bit older than the others, said one night he was going to try because, to put it in his charming words, she must be gagging for it. It’s too difficult to leap from the tree to the window, so he carried along a ladder one night and up he went while his mates watched from the tree. Felicity sees his head and shoulders rising above the window and screams the place down.

‘Bert is arrested but when Felicity’s nightly striptease starts to come out, Bross-Tilkington drops the charges fast, makes a donation to the police widows-and-orphans fund, and the striptease stops.’

‘When was this?’

‘Two weeks before the wedding.’

‘Are the police questioning Bert?’

‘I don’t know. Gosh, if this comes out in the press, poor James is really going to look like a sucker. No wonder her father was desperate to get her married off’

‘And what about Jerry? Why wasn’t he fired?’

‘I thought maybe you could find out something from Olivia Bross. I’m going to drop the Tilkington. Such a mouthful. Was James able to be any help?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ said Agatha bitterly. ‘She played the virgin with him. No sex until after we’re married. I just don’t understand James at all.’

‘Beautiful people get away with a lot,’ said Toni, ‘and Felicity was so very beautiful.’

Agatha fought back an irrational impulse to cry.

‘Let’s go and see Olivia,’ she said. Are the press still around? Do we need to go the back way?’

‘No, we can use the front. Only a couple of local fellows.’

Agatha phoned Olivia as they were almost at the villa and told her to open the electronic gates. The rain was falling steadily as they arrived. Toni got out to phone on the intercom, ignoring the questions of two sodden reporters. The gates opened and they drove in. The reporters tried to follow but were shooed back by a policeman on duty outside.

Agatha fretted that the only real bits of investigation had come from Toni and Patrick. She was determined to take over the questioning of Olivia.

‘I wonder who cleans this place,’ whispered Toni. ‘I mean, I’m sure Olivia can’t clean it all herself’

I should have thought of that, Agatha’s mind grumbled. But she saw a way of getting rid of Toni. ‘Why don’t you leave Olivia to me,’ she said, ‘and go back into the village and ask around.’

‘Wouldn’t it just be easier to ask Olivia who cleans for her?’ said Toni reasonably. ‘Then I’ll take off and question her.’

‘Oh, all right.’ Agatha rang the bell. Olivia answered the door herself.

‘Oh, do come in,’ she said eagerly. ‘Have you any news?’

‘A few leads,’ said Agatha. ‘I would like to ask a few more questions.’

‘Let’s go into the lounge.’

‘Before we do that, would you please give us the name of anyone who cleans for you?’

‘I don’t see how that can be of any help, but there are two women, Mrs Fellows and Mrs Dimity. They live together in a cottage called Strangeways behind the church.’

‘I’ll be off then,’ said Toni. ‘Back later.’

Olivia and Agatha went into the drawing room. ‘Would you like tea or something?’ offered Olivia.

‘No, thank you. I wanted to ask you about that business about the local boys climbing up that tree and watching Felicity as she got ready for bed.’

‘That was disgusting!’ cried Olivia. ‘My poor innocent daughter.’

‘What I really want to know is why your man, Jerry, wasn’t sacked after that. He’s supposed to be protecting the house.’

Olivia looked uncomfortable. ‘He’s so loyal to my husband and he swore it would never happen again.’

‘Now, in the case of both of Felicity’s previous engagements, it appears the first was broken off because the man found he was homosexual and the second, because the bank manager found Felicity’s desire for lots of sex rather off-putting.’

‘That’s disgusting and none of it is true. It was George, my husband, who declared they weren’t suitable. Like me, he wanted only the best for Felicity. I can only assume that both men are so furious at being rejected that they are now making up stories.’

Could Olivia really be so naive? wondered Agatha.

‘Is your husband at home?’ she asked.

‘He has gone out in his boat with Sylvan. He said he needed to get away for a bit.’

‘Without you?’

‘I’m hopeless. I get so dreadfully seasick.’

Agatha experienced a rare feeling of claustrophobia. The room was overheated, the long windows were steamed up, and Olivia seemed to exude sentimental stickiness from every pore. Agatha reminded herself severely that the woman facing her had just lost her daughter.

‘I think I’d like to have a word with this Bert Trymp. Is he in the village?’

‘He works at the garage, but he’s a coarse fellow and will say anything.’

Agatha was glad to be outside again. The rain was slackening off. It wasn’t all that cold and yet Olivia had the central heating blasting away. The more she thought about Olivia’s lack of knowledge of her daughter’s sex life, the more puzzled she became. George Bross seemed a very domineering sort of man. Perhaps Olivia was simply a doting mother who gladly accepted her husband’s interpretation of things.

She drove the short distance to the garage. There was a small showroom to one side, displaying secondhand cars for sale. Behind the pumps was an office where customers paid for their petrol. There was no shop in the garage selling groceries. Possibly the grocery store directly opposite had protested at any such idea. She asked an elderly man who was cleaning up discarded rubbish where she could find Bert Trymp. ‘In the workshop,’ he replied. ‘Round the back.’

Holding her umbrella over her head and sidestepping oily puddles, Agatha made her way round to the shed at the back.

She asked a man in dirty blue overalls if she could speak to Bert Trymp. ‘Bert!’ roared the man, making Agatha jump. A young man emerged from the shadows at the back of the shed. He had a face like a younger John Bull: wide mouth, stocky figure, beer gut. ‘You that detective?’ he asked.

‘That’s me,’ said Agatha. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk privately?’

‘Pub’s open,’ said Bert hopefully.

‘Bit early for drink, isn’t it?’ asked Agatha.

‘That’s why the pub’ll be quiet-like.’

‘Okay, ask your boss for permission.’

‘Don’t need to. Me da’s the boss.’

The pub was quiet, with only two hardened drinkers propping up the bar. Agatha ordered a tonic water for herself and a pint of real ale for Bert. They sat down at a table as far away from the bar as possible. After Bert had taken a huge mouthful of ale, Agatha asked him, ‘I believe you got into some trouble over Felicity.’

‘Well, that were her doing. Egging us all on, like.’

‘The place is well guarded. How was she to guess that you and some randy schoolboys were watching her undress?’

‘There’s undressing and there’s undressing, know what I mean? Her was doing more of a striptease, like. Taking every little bit off slow as slow.’

‘She still may not have known she was being watched.’

‘Oh, yeah? Well, one night, her shouts out, “Show’s over, boys,” and pulls the curtains close. That’s a come-on. I thought, I’ll have her, that I will. So next night, I gets a ladder and climbs up. She screams and yells. We all run for it, but the police are round the next day. Then I gets a visit from old man Bross. He says if it ever happen again, he’ll kill me, but he isn’t going to charge me. I’m telling you, after that I kept real clear.’

‘Have you any idea at all who might have killed her?’ asked Agatha.

He scratched his head of thick brown hair. ‘See, it’s like this. Her was provo… pro…’

‘Provocative?’

‘That’s the word. Right little prick teaser. Now, if her ’ad been found in the woods, like, strangled and raped and all, well, everyone would like, say, her’d been asking fer it. But shot! You’d best be asking around for folks with guns.’

Meanwhile, Toni was sitting in the parlour of the cosy cottage belonging to Mrs Fellows and Mrs Dimity. Over cups of tea, she had learned that the pair were widows and had moved in together to pool expenses. Either they had always looked alike, or proximity and age had given them the appearance of sisters. Both looked to be in their late fifties, and they both had the same tightly permed grey hair, round comfortable figures, and small twinkling eyes.

‘But we don’t know who could have killed Miss Felicity, and that’s a fact,’ said Mrs Fellows, ‘unless it was that fiancé of hers.’

‘Mr Lacey? Why him?’ asked Toni.

The women looked at each other uneasily and then Mrs Dimity said earnestly, ‘Well, seeing as how you’re investigating for Mrs Bross…’

‘You just call her Mrs Bross?’

‘Her full name’s such a mouthful. Like I was saying, on account of that Mr Lacey there were lots of shouting and rows. When Mr Lacey heard about them Naked Servants, he hit the roof and called Mrs Bross vulgar. Mr Bross tried to punch him but Mr Lacey pushed him down into a chair and said he’d changed his mind and he didn’t want to get married. Miss Felicity cried something awful. Mr Bross threatened Mr Lacey with breach of promise and everything else. At last Mr Lacey said, tired-like, “Don’t cry, Felicity. I’ll go through with it.” And Miss Felicity brightened up no end and starts talking about arrangements for the wedding with her mother. To my way of thinking, Miss Felicity was always a bit simple.’

‘Why all the tight security?’ asked Toni.

‘It’s always been like that since they came here. But we know on the day of the wedding, them dogs were locked up and the gates were standing open, ready for the bride to be driven to church,’ said Mrs Dimity. ‘After the local lads were caught spying on Miss Felicity, that’s when Mr Bross went raging to Jerry and said he wasn’t doing his job right. But there were always burglar alarms all over the place and security lights.’

‘How did the boys get past the security?’

‘They came in from the river,’ said Mrs Fellows.

‘Are there many boats on the river?’

‘A few. Mr Bross, he wanted to claim the part of the river at the bottom of his property as private property, but he couldn’t get to do that because it’s a sort of right of way for other boats going down to the coast.’

‘So on the day of the murder,’ said Toni eagerly, ‘someone could have come by boat and -’

Mrs Fellows interrupted her. ‘No, no. Think about it. If anyone had arrived that way carrying a gun in broad daylight, they would have been seen walking up from the river and across the garden.’

‘Was Felicity maybe cheating on Mr Lacey?’ suggested Toni.

‘Don’t think she had the time, and that’s a fact,’ said Mrs Dimity. ‘Mrs Bross said they were always travelling here and there. They hadn’t been engaged that long. Mind you, during the winter, Mr Lacey went off on his own for about six weeks and Felicity and her parents went to Spain.’

‘To do business?’

‘No, just for a holiday, they said. Mind you, we had to keep on cleaning,’ said Mrs Fellows. ‘Mrs Bross said she didn’t want to see a bit of dust when she got back. Wait a bit. I ’member Jerry went with them and some man came to look after the grounds and the dogs. What was his name, Ruby?’

Mrs Ruby Dimity sat in thought. Then she said, ‘Got it. Sean was his name. Just Sean. Didn’t learn any other name. Irish as the pigs of Derry, he was.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Hard to tell. Kept himself to himself. Didn’t even come up to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Tall chap. Youngish. Well, young to us. Maybe about thirty. Brown hair, plain face, nothing special, but very fit. He’d walk those dogs for miles.’

Although Toni persevered for a while with more questions, she couldn’t get any more information out of them.

As she was leaving their cottage, her mobile rang. It was Agatha. ‘Find out anything?’

A little bit,’ said Toni. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the pub. Bert’s just left.’

‘I’ll join you.’

‘You first,’ said Agatha when Toni sat down beside her. Toni told her about Sean. Agatha brightened. ‘Well, at least that’s someone new to pursue. We’ll get back to Olivia and find out where he is, where they got him from. Anything else?’

‘I’m afraid our two cleaning ladies think it might be James. They heard James having one hell of a row over the Naked Servants and saying he wanted out of the engagement and Bross tried to punch him and then threatened him. Felicity began to cry and James at last said he would go ahead with it.’

‘If the police haven’t got that bit of information yet, they soon will,’ said Agatha gloomily.

‘What about Bert?’

‘Not much use, except that he said Felicity wasn’t just undressing, she was actually well aware of her watchers and doing a striptease.’

‘Cow!’

‘Exactly She was the full moo, believe me. Let’s get back to the house of horrors and see if we can get an address for Sean.’

Olivia looked puzzled for a moment and then her face cleared. ‘Oh, Sean Fitzpatrick. I remember. He lives on his boat down at the marina in Hewes.’

‘What is the name of his boat?’ asked Agatha.

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Where is the marina?’

‘I’m not very good at directions. But anyone in Hewes will tell you.’

‘That’s odd,’ said Agatha as they drove off.

‘What’s odd?’ asked Toni.

‘Well, the funeral should be soon, as soon as they release the body. But Olivia looked quite perky, considering her precious daughter is not long dead.’

‘Maybe she’s just putting a brave face on it,’ said Toni. ‘Actually, she does look as if she’s full of some sort of pills. She’s probably on a heavy dose of antidepressants. No one’s supposed to grieve these days. Let’s find this Sean.’

After asking in Hewes for directions to the marina, they found it at the foot of a long winding cobbled street. Various expensive-looking yachts bobbed at anchor along with smaller craft. There was a small stone jetty and on the shore were several trendy boutiques and cafés with tables outside where a few brave people crouched over cups of coffee in a blustery wind.

‘There’s an office on that jetty,’ said Agatha as they both got out of the car. ‘We’ll try there.’

In the office, a man who looked as if he were dressed for the part of a nautical extra in a film sat behind a desk. He wore what Agatha had seen advertised as ‘a genuine Greek fisherman’s hat’ on his head and a white Aran sweater over a tattersall shirt with a silk cravat tucked into the neckline. Although surely aware of them standing in front of him, he continued to write something on a pad.

Agatha waited a few minutes and then said crossly, ‘Okay, you’ve impressed us with the fact that you are a busy man. We’ve got it. We’re suitably impressed. We want to ask you a few questions.’

He looked up, feigning tolerant amusement, and tipped his chair back. He had a craggy face with deep pouches under his eyes. ‘Want a boat?’

‘No,’ said Agatha. ‘Or rather, a particular boat. Sean Fitzpatrick’s.’

‘What’s he been up to now? Seduced your daughter?’

‘We are private detectives. I am Agatha Raisin and this is Toni Gilmour. We have been hired by Mrs Bross-Tilkington to investigate the murder of her daughter. Now, where do we find him?’

‘Walk along to your left when you leave here. It’s a cruiser called Helena.’

And I wonder who Helena was or is,’ said Agatha when they left the office.

‘There it is,’ cried Toni, pointing. ‘That’s one really powerful boat. Must have cost a fortune.’

‘Mr Fitzpatrick!’ called Agatha.

There was no movement from the boat.

‘Aren’t we supposed to shout “ahoy”?’ asked Toni.

‘Can’t do that. I’d feel like a prat. Mr Fitzpatrick!’

‘The wind’s carrying your voice away,’ said Toni. ‘Why don’t I nip on board? He might be asleep or something.’

Agatha wanted to say that she was quite capable of nipping on board herself but her hip gave that awful twinge – the twinge that kept crying out for a hip-replacement operation.

‘Go ahead,’ she said gruffly.

She watched enviously as Toni leapt on to the deck. Toni called loudly but the only thing that met her ears was the hum of the traffic from the town above the river and the screech of seagulls overhead.

Toni looked across at Agatha, who made impatient well-go-ahead signs. Toni tried the door of the cabin and found it unlocked. She made her way down the companionway past the head, past a table in an alcove with a marine chart spread on it and then into the cabin. It was empty. Toni was about to retreat when she realized a cruiser this size must have a bedroom.

She opened a door at the end of the cabin. Lying on the bed was the prone figure of a man, fully dressed. A hole, like a third eye, was in the middle of his forehead. The exit wound had soaked the pillow in blood.

Toni slowly backed away, her face white. Then she turned and ran up on deck, calling wildly to Agatha, ‘Call the police. Murder!’

A combination of the wind and a mocking seagull’s cry drowned out Toni’s words, but Agatha saw the girl’s white face and picked her way gingerly along a narrow gangplank which Toni had ignored.

‘He’s dead. Shot. Get the police,’ panted Toni. Agatha took out her mobile and began to dial.

‘What are you ladies doing on Sean’s boat?’ a voice called.

Toni heard the voice but not the words. She looked across at the jetty and saw Sylvan Dubois. She started to call to him, but he jumped on the deck. ‘It’s Sean Fitzpatrick, I think,’ said Toni. ‘He’s dead. Shot.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Sylvan, making his way to the companionway

‘Don’t go down there!’ shouted Toni. ‘It’s a crime scene.’

‘I need to make sure he is dead. Did you touch the body?’

Toni gave a shudder. ‘No.’

‘I’ll just check.’

Agatha rang off and asked angrily, ‘Where’s he gone?’

‘To look at the body.’

‘I’d better go and see what he’s up to,’ said Agatha.

‘The police have arrived,’ said Toni, waving frantically as two squad cars came racing along.

Sylvan reappeared and helped them back on to the jetty. ‘You shouldn’t have gone in there,’ raged Agatha. ‘It’s a crime scene.’

‘I know that now,’ he said with a shrug. ‘But I had to make sure.’

Police poured out of their cars, headed by Detective Inspector Boase. Agatha explained quickly what they had found and why they had been looking for Sean. Boase barked out orders. Agatha, Toni and Sylvan were to be taken to the police station and held for interrogation. Their fingerprints were to be taken and their hands checked for gun residue. Agatha was furious.

They sat and waited in Hewes police station after their fingerprints had been taken and their hands checked for what seemed ages.

At last the detective inspector returned with Detective Sergeant Falcon. ‘You first, Mrs Raisin.’

Agatha had a sudden sharp longing for James or Charles or even Roy. Charles had said he would follow her down, but in his usual cavalier way, he had not put in an appearance. She belonged to a generation when men were supposed to handle difficult situations. She was surprised at herself. Had she not built up two successful businesses? She squared her tired shoulders and sat down in the interrogation room.

‘Coffee?’ asked Boase.

‘Police coffee?’

‘There’s a Starbucks next door.’

‘Great. Black. May I smoke?’

‘If you must.’

Agatha lit up a cigarette and thanked the gods that this nanny state had seen fit to leave the prisoners or about-to-be prisoners with some indulgences.

A policewoman came in shortly carrying a tray of cardboard containers of coffee. It would have to be a policewoman who was sent for coffee, thought Agatha. In fact, did one still call them policewomen, or was it policepersons or -

‘Mrs Raisin! If you have quite finished daydreaming,’ said Boase. ‘Interview with Mrs Agatha Raisin in the presence of Detective Sergeant Falcon and Police Constable Hathey. Time fifteen-hundred and thirty. Begin at the beginning and tell us why you went in search of Mr Sean Fitzpatrick.’

Agatha explained again that Olivia had asked her to investigate the murder. She had learned that Sean Fitzpatrick had taken over guarding the house and grounds while the Bross-Tilkingtons and their man, Jerry, were abroad. They were told he had a boat. On locating the boat and getting no reply to their shouts, Toni Gilmour went on board and returned shortly to say Sean had been murdered. Mr Sylvan Dubois had come along and gone aboard to check that Sean was really dead. ‘And that’s all,’ she ended defiantly.

But that was far from all. She was asked to explain all her movements from the time she got up in the morning to what she had been doing before she had called at the boat. She reluctantly gave up details of her interview with Bert Trymp and how Toni had found out from the cleaners about Sean. Then she had to go over it all again from the beginning until she snapped, ‘Am I being charged with anything?’

‘No,’ said Boase. ‘You are simply helping us with our inquiries.’

‘Then I’m out of here.’

‘Do not leave the area. We will probably wish to speak to you again.’

Agatha sat down in the reception area to wait for Toni. How on earth could James detach himself from a murder case which involved him so closely? She must see him again. He surely must have heard something or other. ‘What are you dreaming about?’ asked Sylvan, joining her.

‘I am not dreaming, I am thinking hard. You know the family. You’re friends with them. Surely you’ve got some idea.’

He spread his hands. ‘They seemed a nice English family. Very hospitable. I don’t think George Bross liked Felicity much.’

‘What! His own daughter?’

Ah, you see, Felicity wasn’t his daughter. He got drunk one night and told me. Olivia had an affair once. He loves his wife. Strange, hein? That dumpy little woman with the iron hair? They could not have children so he elected to bring her up as their own. He was desperate to get her married off and out of his life.’

‘Had she done something so terrible?’

‘Who knows? But she did try to please him and when she turned herself into a raving beauty, that seemed to work for a while.’

‘Do the police know this?’

‘I don’t think so, and don’t tell them.’

‘Who was the father?’

‘You’ll need to ask Olivia that. But do tell her you did not get the news from me. What about dinner tonight?’

Agatha would normally have leaped at the chance of dinner with this attractive Frenchman, despite the fact that she was still suspicious of him, had she not still been so shaken over this second murder. ‘Another time,’ she said gruffly.

Toni reappeared and Agatha got hurriedly to her feet. ‘Maybe see you later,’ she said to Sylvan. He rose to his feet to hold the police station door open for them.

‘Don’t worry,’ he whispered, putting an arm around Agatha’s shoulders and pulling her against his body. ‘Soon this will all be forgotten.’

‘Unless these murders are solved, not by me,’ said Agatha, pulling away.

In the car, Agatha told Toni about Felicity not being George’s daughter. ‘But there’s something else,’ she added.

‘What’s that? I had the most awful grilling,’ said Toni. ‘I almost felt like confessing to the murders just to get it over with.’

‘You know Sylvan went on to the boat.’

‘Yes.’

‘When he hugged me there, I felt the crackle of papers from his inside pocket – a lot of papers. Now, our elegant friend would not go around distorting the line of his tailored jacket with a big bunch of papers. What if he took something from the boat?’

‘I couldn’t see any papers lying around,’ said Toni.

‘He might have known where to look,’ said Agatha. ‘We’ll go out to the house now and ask Olivia about Felicity. Then maybe we could watch somewhere on the road afterwards to see if Sylvan leaves.’

‘But he’s already out of the house,’ said Toni.

‘I know. But he was wearing a light suit and the weather’s turning chilly. He may return to change. We wait until he leaves and then return to Olivia. You keep her talking while I say I’m going to the loo and I’ll have a quick look in his room.’

‘How will you know which one it is? It’s a big house.’

‘I’ll follow my nose. He smells of some sort of sandalwood scent.’

‘I wish we could hide somewhere in the house instead,’ said Toni.

‘Why?’

‘I would like to hear what Sylvan and Olivia have to talk about.’

‘Let’s ask her about Felicity before we do anything else.’

Olivia at first protested vehemently that Felicity was indeed their own daughter. Then she all at once broke down and sobbed out that Felicity had been adopted. George had always wanted children and it had been a great disappointment to him when she couldn’t have any. Then he went off on business to Spain one time on his own. A little while later, he confessed he’d had an affair and that the woman was pregnant. Olivia threatened a divorce, but he’d pleaded with her that this was the opportunity to have the child they’d always wanted. At last she agreed. He brought the baby home. Olivia had fallen in love with the little baby. George never told her the name of the mother and she didn’t want to know.

‘It’ll be on the adoption papers,’ said Agatha.

‘George said he hadn’t bothered about formalities, and for the last six months before the arrival of the baby, I agreed to appear pregnant.’

‘But how did he get the baby into the country?’ asked Toni.

‘He brought it by our boat.’

‘There are surely customs checks at the harbour?’ said Agatha.

‘Oh, he said, the men knew him. The baby was fast asleep in a locker and they never looked.’

Agatha stared at her open-mouthed. What else had George been bringing into the country under the noses of the customs men?

‘Do you happen to know if the mother was Spanish?’ asked Toni.

‘I suppose so.’

‘But she was very fair-skinned.’

‘Some Spaniards are. Oh, please, don’t tell the police. We would be arrested and I have had so much to bear.’

They waited until she had recovered. ‘All right,’ said Agatha reluctantly.

‘Who told you?’ demanded Olivia.

Agatha racked her brains. Someone in the village? Hardly. The police? No.

‘It was Sylvan,’ said Olivia bitterly. ‘I know it must have been. He never liked me.’

Agatha cleared her throat. ‘I’m afraid we have some bad news.’

‘Bad news? There can’t be anything worse than murder.’

‘Sean Fitzpatrick has been murdered.’

For one moment, Olivia looked as she were about to faint. Her bright red lipstick was the only colour on her white face. ‘Sean,’ she whispered at last. ‘Why Sean?’

‘Was he a close friend of your husband?’ asked Agatha.

She put out a trembling hand as if to ward off any more questions. ‘Enough. I can’t take any more. I am going to take a sedative and go to bed. If the police call, tell them I am indisposed and will answer any questions tomorrow.’

‘Do you want us to help you?’ asked Agatha.

‘Just leave me alone!’ Olivia rose and stumbled from the room.

Toni and Agatha waited in silence and then Agatha whispered, ‘I forgot to ask her where her husband was and when he’s expected back. That boat of George’s. All this security.’

‘I wonder if he was smuggling in anything more than just one baby,’ said Toni.

‘Could be. It would explain a lot. But not much about Felicity’s death. If we wait until Olivia settles down, I could have a look in Sylvan’s room.’

‘But he’ll still have the papers on him,’ Toni pointed out.

‘There might be something else there. Look, Toni, why don’t you go back to the harbour and find out what you can about Sean.’

‘How will you get back?’

‘I’ll phone for a cab.’

Agatha waited and waited in the silent house. At last she rose and made her way up the thickly carpeted stairs. Most of the bedroom doors stood open. Even Olivia had left her door open and Agatha could see that she was fast asleep.

She made her way along a corridor, peering into rooms until she came to a closed door at the end. She tried the handle but the door was locked.

Agatha fished out a credit card she rarely used and inserted it in the lock.

‘It helps if you have a key,’ said an amused French voice behind her. Agatha turned round, her face flaming.

‘I was just taking a look around,’ she said defiantly. ‘I am supposed to be detecting.’

‘The police are downstairs,’ said Sylvan. ‘Where is Olivia?’

‘Taken a sedative and gone to bed.’

‘Then you had better go down there and tell them that.’

Agatha had a few brief words with the police downstairs. Boase said he would call again in the morning. Agatha hesitated. Sylvan had not followed her down.

She felt suddenly weary and rather frightened. She longed to be back in Carsely. Agatha did not know that her wish was soon to be granted.