Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryham

them?’
    Charles took their orders and vanished towards the sitting-room to collect the drinks. Three curious pairs of eyes followed his well-tailored back. ‘So nice to have a man friend around at a time like this,’ said Carrie. ‘Are you engaged?’
    Before Agatha could reply, Polly said, ‘Of course they’re not.’
    ‘Why do you say that?’ demanded Agatha.
    ‘Age difference,’ remarked Polly bluntly.
    ‘Never mind my private life,’ said Agatha crossly. ‘What’s the latest about the murder?’
    ‘Paul Redfern, the gamekeeper, says that Tolly often confided in him and Tolly had said only the other week that he was tired of his wife complaining about the country and he had told her if she liked London so much she could go back and live there, but he wouldn’t support her, she’d have to get a job,’ said Harriet.
    ‘But she has an alibi,’ said Agatha, wondering how many times she was going to say that. ‘She has, hasn’t she?’
    ‘Evidently so. Oh, thanks,’ said Harriet, taking a glass of gin and tonic from Charles. ‘One of the policemen told Paul, who told Sarah at the dried-flower shop, who told me that she says she was staying with a friend, Melissa Carson in South Ken, near the tube, something mansions or other, and they had gone out for dinner at a restaurant in the Brompton Road and then had an early night, so she couldn’t have got to Norfolk. Such a pity when she’s such an obvious suspect. That awful man, Hand, has been poking about and making everyone in the village feel guilty.’
    ‘I wonder if either of them was having an affair,’ mused Agatha.
    ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ said Polly. ‘You can’t keep anything quiet around here.’
    ‘But they may not have been carrying on with anyone in the village,’ said Agatha. ‘I mean, Tolly might have been having an affair with one of the wives of the huntsmen.’
    ‘But that would mean the murderer would have to be Lucy,’ protested Carrie.
    ‘Not necessarily. It could mean the cuckolded huntsman,’ said Charles.
    ‘I wish it were all over,’ sighed Harriet. ‘First those dancing lights, and now this. At least the village has stayed solid.’
    ‘About what?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘The lights, of course. We don’t want everyone saying we’re some yokel nuts who believe in fairies.’
    Charles looked quizzically at Agatha, who said rapidly, ‘I think someone’s bound to have said something. I mean, look at all the gossip that came out of the gamekeeper. Where does he live?’
    ‘He’s got a cottage on the estate. He’s wondering what’s going to happen to him now.’
    There was a ring at the doorbell. ‘I’ll get it,’ said Charles. He returned and said to Agatha, ‘It’s Hand and his sidekick. I’ve put them in the sitting-room.’
    Agatha suppressed a groan. The three women rose rapidly to their feet. ‘We’d best be going. We’ve had enough of the police,’ said Polly.
    Reluctantly, Agatha went through to the sitting-room. With a sinking heart, she noticed Hand was clutching her manuscript.
    ‘Just a few more questions, Mrs Raisin. Do you not think it a remarkable coincidence that the owner of the manor in your book should have his throat cut and that Mr Trumpington-James should be murdered in the same way?’
    ‘Remarkable,’ said Agatha wearily.
    ‘Where were you on the night of the murder?’
    ‘I went to the pub with Charles and we came back here.’
    ‘I suppose you will vouch for him and he will vouch for you?’
    ‘Yes, but look here. Neither of us knew the Trumpington-Jameses before we came here. What motive would we have?’
    ‘Well, let’s take you, for instance. We’ve been checking up on you. You seem to have been involved in a lot of murders and you are not shy of publicity. Let’s say, you know the value of publicity. You ran a public relations firm before you took early retirement.’
    ‘So where’s this leading?’ asked Agatha, wondering where Charles was and why he wasn’t in the sitting-room, supporting her.
    ‘The point is this.’ Hand held up the manuscript. ‘Now this is not well-written. But some publisher might offer a hefty sum for it because of the tie-in with the murder.’
    ‘You potty man,’ said Agatha furiously. ‘Are you trying to say that I would come all the way to Norfolk to bump someone off just to get a book sold?’
    ‘We are just examining all the angles.’
    ‘Examine this! I do not know how to operate Tolly’s burglar alarm, and