Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryham

Charles,’ said Agatha. ‘You may think you can get away with two murders. But four!’
    ‘There won’t be any evidence,’ said Mrs Jackson. ‘You’ll just disappear, then we’ll pack your stuff and bury it.’
    Agatha had a sudden desperate desire to pee. But she would not mess herself in front of these killers. She tried to forget the peril she was in and concentrate on why they had done it.
    She looked again at Barry Jones, handsome Barry Jones who didn’t have the money to support a woman with expensive tastes like Lucy. Unless . . .
    She looked at him. ‘I think you were having an affair with Lucy. I think she got you to kill Tolly. Wait a bit. You, Betty Jackson, told her about that will. So she stole the Stubbs and gave it to one of you to hide. Then what? A row with Tolly? Going to change his will again and leave everything to Lizzie? Or had he found out about Lucy and Barry? Anyway, Barry here slits his throat while Lucy goes to London to get an alibi. But why then dump the Stubbs on me? If you had burnt it, say, she would have got the insurance money.’
    ‘No harm in you knowing,’ said Mrs Jackson. ‘Lucy thought if we dumped it on you, police attention would switch to you and Lizzie. She said it was worth it. She said she’d get enough from selling the estate.’
    ‘You think you’ve been very clever,’ said Agatha, ‘but you can’t get away with making the pair of us disappear, as you put it. Charles is a baronet and the newspapers will have a field day. The case will go on and on. Lucy will have to wait a hell of a long time for her money, which means you will, too. And you’ve been silly. What made you think I knew anything?’
    ‘Lucy phoned us and said you’d figured out Paul was blackmailing us and she said you would soon work it all out and tell the police.’
    Agatha heard the cats patter into the hall, heard them purring and mewing. That’ll be Charles, she thought. If only I could warn him. But then the cats fell silent.
    Agatha clasped her hands tightly together to stop their trembling. They were going to kill her. Was there any way she could make a dash for it?
    She got to her feet. ‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom.’
    ‘Sit down!’ barked Mrs Jackson. ‘The only place you’re going is the grave.’
    ‘You can’t shoot both of us,’ pleaded Agatha. ‘The blast of the shotgun will be heard.’
    ‘Who by?’ asked Barry Jones with a grin. ‘You’re at the end of the lane. Nothing nearby except the church.’
    Agatha closed her eyes and prayed. Fright had made her deaf. She could only hear a roaring in her ears. Get me out of this and I’ll give up smoking and I’ll be a nicer person and I’ll do good works. I know I haven’t been very nice in the past, O Lord, but just get me out of this one and I’ll be a saint. She suddenly knew she was going to pee herself and let out a low groan and opened her eyes. Then she blinked and stared again at the tableau in front of her.
    The sitting-room was full of policemen. Barry Jones slowly dropped the shotgun on to the sofa. Detective Chief Inspector Hand stepped to the front as Jones and his mother were handcuffed.
    ‘Where are you going, Mrs Raisin?’ he shouted as Agatha began to frantically push her way through to the door of the sitting-room.
    ‘The bathroom!’ shouted Agatha and fled up the stairs.
    At two o’clock the following morning, Charles and Agatha returned from police headquarters. ‘So that’s that,’ said Charles, walking into the sitting-room and beginning to put fire-lighters and logs on the fire. ‘I couldn’t believe it. You’d left the door open. I knew something was up because the cats’ fur was standing on end. I backed out and took a peek into the sitting-room. I knew Hand and the police were at the pub, and we all came round.’
    ‘Yes, you’ve told me all that, but you haven’t told me why Rosie should tell you that she knew Lucy and Barry were having an affair, that she’d once spotted them out in the woods. Why tell you when she hadn’t told the police?’
    ‘We got friendly,’ said Charles, his back to Agatha as he struck a match and lit the fire.
    ‘Pillow talk?’
    ‘You could say that.’
    ‘You are amoral,’ said Agatha.
    ‘Come on, Agatha. I sussed she must know something. You didn’t think I was going to clear off for Christmas and leave you here on your own? I did it for you.’
    ‘The next thing is you’ll be saying you did it for