Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryham

anyone who might be involved in this work at the estate agents’?’
    ‘Yes, Amy Worth. But it can’t be her.’
    ‘Why not?’
    ‘What motive?’
    ‘There seem to be a lot of secret passions in that village. Blame it on the awful Norfolk weather. Once the summer visitors leave, those women can have little else to do but make mischief. Satan finds some mischief for idle hands to do.’
    ‘Quite. Still, you’ve got a point.’
    ‘And doesn’t that cleaner have a key?’
    ‘Yes, but she only got one recently.’
    ‘But before the return of the Stubbs?’
    ‘I suppose so,’ said Agatha. ‘Anyway, thanks. You’ve given me some points to think about.’
    ‘Any message for James?’ asked Mrs Bloxby, feeling contrite.
    ‘Doesn’t seem much point now he’s got that paragon of all the virtues to entertain him.’
    James was sitting with Mrs Sheppard in Carsely’s pub, the Red Lion. Despite the chill of the day, she was wearing a sleeveless red chiffon dress. Her blond hair was smooth and shiny but she kept tossing it about like a model in a shampoo advertisement. James could feel himself becoming more and more bored. If only it were the prickly irritating Agatha Raisin opposite. Agatha could be infuriating, but she was never, ever boring.
    Agatha told Charles what Mrs Bloxby had said, but omitting any mention of James. ‘So many people,’ mourned Charles. ‘So many suspects. I feel like going home. What about you? The police can’t really keep us here.’
    But Agatha suddenly did not want to go back to Carsely. In her imagination, James was already engaged to Mrs Sheppard. And she did not want to be left on her own without Charles.
    ‘We may try a little longer.’ Charles was putting his coat on. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘I’m going to buy a couple of bolts, one for the back door and one for the front. While I do that, why don’t you pop down to the estate agent’s and have a word with Amy?’
    ‘All right, but I don’t think that woman’s got much more in her mind than quilting and church affairs.’
    Agatha set out. The wind was cold and the ground was frozen and slippery. She made her way cautiously across the village green and then heard herself being hailed from the pub. Rosie Wilden was standing outside, waving to her. Agatha walked back to join her. ‘Come in, Mrs Raisin, dear. I’ve got a bottle of my perfume for you.’
    ‘Thanks,’ said Agatha, following her into the darkness of the pub. ‘We’re not open yet,’ said Rosie. ‘Where are you off to?’
    ‘I was just going to call on Amy Worth at the estate agent’s.’
    ‘You’d better hurry. They close at five-thirty and it’s nearly that. Here’s your perfume.’
    ‘Thanks a lot. Are you sure I can’t pay you for it?’
    ‘My pleasure.’
    Agatha hurried off, thinking that she must get Rosie something to repay her for the perfume and for that free meal.
    Amy was just locking up when Agatha came hurrying up.
    ‘What’s happened?’ she asked.
    ‘Nothing more,’ said Agatha. ‘I think enough has happened already. I just wanted a chat.’
    ‘I live next to Harriet. Walk round with me and we’ll have a cup of tea.’
    Amy’s house was smaller than Harriet’s, a trim 1930s bungalow with pebble-dashed walls, looking out of place among the other older houses of Fryfam.
    ‘Is your husband at home?’ asked Agatha, following Amy into her kitchen.
    ‘No, Jerry’s working late. Sit down. Tea? Coffee? Something stronger?’
    ‘Coffee will be fine. Mind if I smoke?’
    ‘I do, actually.’
    ‘Oh, well.’ Agatha put away the packet of cigarettes she had taken out of her pocket. ‘I’m at my wits’ end trying to figure out who murdered Tolly, and Paul Redfern.’
    ‘It’s really not your job,’ said Amy. There was a loose thread hanging down from her droopy skirt. Agatha was wondering whether to tell her about it when Amy giggled and said, ‘Now tell me all about you and Sir Charles.’
    There was a decidedly prurient gleam in her pale eyes.
    ‘Nothing to tell,’ said Agatha defensively. ‘I mean, you all seem to be up to such shenanigans in this village, you probably think everyone else is at it.’ A quick memory of Charles’s well-manicured hands on her body came into her mind, and to banish it she said jokingly, ‘Take you, for instance. I know all about you!’
    Amy had just lifted up the kettle to fill two coffee mugs. She dropped the kettle and jumped back as boiling water went