Agatha Raisin and the Quiche of Death

they all wanted now to say they had contributed. The sun beat down through the windows of the school hall. Occasionally from outside came the sound of fiddle and accordion as the morris dancers danced on, accompanied by the occasional raucous cry of old Mrs Rainworth, ‘Apple brandy. Real old Cotswold recipe.’
    Midlands Television turned up and Agatha spurred herself to greater efforts. The bidding was running wild. One by one, all the junk began to disappear. Her sofa and chairs went to a Gloucestershire dealer, even the fake horse brasses were snapped up and the Americans bid hotly for the farm machinery, recognizing genuine antiques in their usual irritatingly sharp way.
    When the auction was over, Agatha Raisin had made £25,000 for Save the Children. But she knew that she now had to soothe the savage breasts of those who felt they had been cheated.
    ‘I must thank you all,’ she said with a well-manufactured break in her voice. ‘Some of you may feel you have paid more than you should. But remember, you are helping charity. We of Carsely thank you from the bottom of our hearts. Now, if you will all join me in singing “Jerusalem”.’
    The famous hymn was followed by Mrs Mason leading the audience in ‘Land of Hope and Glory’. The vicar then said a prayer, and everyone beamed happily in a euphoric state.
    Agatha was surrounded by reporters. No nationals, she noticed, but what did it matter? She said to them, facing the Midlands Television camera, ‘I cannot take the credit for all this. The success of this venture is thanks to the freely given services of a London public relations executive, Roy Silver. Roy, take a bow.’
    Flushed with delight, Roy leaped nimbly up on to the stage and cavorted in his cap and bells for the camera. The band then played selections from Mary Poppins as the crowds dispersed, some to the tea-room, some back to the applebrandy stall, the rest to watch the morris dancing.
    Agatha felt a pang of regret and half wished she had not given Roy the credit. He was beside himself with joy and, followed by the television camera, had gone out to join the morris dancers, where he was turning cartwheels and showing off to his heart’s content.
    ‘Pity it won’t make the nationals,’ mourned Roy as he and Agatha sat later on Agatha’s new furniture.
    ‘If you make the locals, you’ll be lucky,’ said Agatha, made waspish by fatigue. ‘We’ll need to wait now until Monday. I don’t think there’s a local Sunday paper, and then there’s hardly any news coverage on television at the weekends.’
    ‘Put on the telly,’ said Roy. ‘They do the Midlands news for a few minutes after the national.’
    ‘They only do about three minutes in all,’ said Agatha, ‘and they’re hardly going to cover a local auction.’
    Roy switched on the television. The local news covered another murder in Birmingham, a missing child in Stroud, a pile-up on the M6, and then, ‘On a lighter note, the picturesque village of Carsely raised a record sum . . .’ And there was Roy on the road waving down motorists and then a shot of Agatha running the auction, the singing of ‘Jerusalem’ and then a quick shot of Roy with the morris dancers, ‘Roy Silver, a London executive,’ and Roy stopping his cavorting to say seriously, ‘One does what one can for charity.’
    ‘Well,’ said Agatha, ‘even I’m surprised.’
    ‘There’s another news later,’ said Roy, searching through the newspaper. ‘Must video it and show it to old Wilson.’
    ‘I looked fat,’ said Agatha dismally.
    ‘It’s the cameras, love, they always put pounds on. By the way, did you ever discover who that woman was, the one on the tower of Warwick Castle?’
    ‘Oh, her. Miss Maria Borrow of Upper Cockburn.’
    ‘And?’
    ‘And nothing. I’ve decided to let the whole thing rest. Bill Wong, a detective constable, seems to think that the attacks on me have been caused by my Nosy-Parkering.’
    Roy looked at her curiously. ‘You’d better tell me about it.’
    Wearily, Agatha told him what had been happening since she had last seen him.
    ‘I wouldn’t just let it go,’ said Roy. ‘Tell you what, if you can borrow a bicycle for me, we could both cycle over to this village, Upper Cockburn, and take a look-see. Get exercise at the same time.’
    ‘I don’t know . . .’
    ‘I mean, we could just ask around, casual like.’
    ‘I’ll think about it after church,’ said Agatha.
    ‘Church!’
    ‘Yes, church