Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

steering wheel. So he, too, had begun investigations!
    She drove along the village street, stopped at the newspaper shop and asked for directions to the Buckley farm, and headed off.
    Agatha was wary of farms, considering them full of livestock of which she knew nothing and snapping dogs. The farmhouse was more of a country mansion, being a Georgian building four storeys high, well maintained.
    The door was standing open. There came the sound of voices from within.
    ‘Hello!’ shouted Agatha.
    The voices stopped, then there was the sound of a chair being scraped back, then booted feet.
    Angela Buckley appeared. ‘It’s our heroine,’ she cried. ‘Come along in.’
    Agatha followed her into a stone-flagged kitchen. Three men sat at the table with cups of tea. ‘That’s my father,’ said Angela, jerking her head at a grey-haired man, ‘and that’s Joe and Ben, they work for us. Sit down and have a coffee. This lot were just going back to work.’
    The farmer picked up a cap from the back of his chair and put it on. ‘Saw you the other night, Mrs Raisin,’ he said. ‘You told ’em.’
    He went out, followed by the two men. Angela and Agatha sat down at the table.
    ‘I’ve just been to see Jane Cutler,’ said Agatha.
    ‘Oh, the slurry with the fringe on top. Why did you go to see her?’
    Agatha decided to plunge right in. ‘I wanted to see if I could find out anything about the murder.’
    ‘What’s that got to do with you? That’s police business.’
    ‘But as I am working for the water company, it is in their interest to get this murder cleared up as quickly as possible.’
    ‘So what did the raddled old bitch have to say for herself?’
    ‘She more or less said you did it.’
    ‘There’s no end to that woman’s venom. She’s had so many face-lifts and been so stretched that every time she opens her mouth her arsehole gapes. What reason should I have for murdering old Struthers?’
    ‘The paddock.’
    ‘Oh, that. It had become a bit of a joke between us. He would say, “You’ll need to wait until I’m dead.” Oh, lor’. Doesn’t that sound awful?’
    ‘But there was no real feeling about it?’
    ‘There was from time to time. He didn’t need that paddock, and he was a stubborn old codger. But actually he’d call round here quite a lot. We were friends.’
    ‘So who could have done it? Was it to stop him voting for or against? Did any of you know which way he meant to vote?’
    ‘No, he enjoyed teasing us.’
    ‘What about Mary Owen? Tell me about her.’
    ‘She always wanted to head the parish council but we wouldn’t let her. She’s so bossy. I think in her way she kept us all together, despite our differences. We all hated her.’
    Agatha wondered whether to broach the subject of the late Percy Cutler, but decided against it. Her own heartache over James had made her unusually sensitive to another woman’s feelings.
    ‘We’ve always had fights over something or another,’ Angela was saying, ‘but they all die away after a while.’ She looked at Agatha and her round weather-beaten face suddenly turned hard. ‘Drop this amateur murder investigation. All you’ll do is stir up a lot of muck . . . and you might get hurt.’
    ‘Is that a warning?’ asked Agatha, gathering up her handbag.
    ‘Yes, it is. A friendly warning.’
    Agatha said goodbye and went out to where her car was parked in the farmyard. As she drove off, she looked in the rear-view mirror. Angela was standing, her hands on her hips, watching her go. Her face was grim.
    Agatha went home and phoned Bill Wong and told him of both conversations, the one with Jane Cutler and the one with Angela. Bill groaned. ‘This opens up a messy field of research. Let me know if you find out anything else.’
    ‘What, no warning to keep out of it?’
    ‘I need all the help I can get on this one.’
    James Lacey phoned Bill Wong later. ‘I went to see that Cutler woman as a start,’ he said. ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing there. According to her the members of the parish council all love one another. I must admit I found her very charming.’
    ’That’s not what our Agatha found out,’ said Bill gleefully.
    There was a short silence and then James said, ‘What do you mean?’
    Bill repeated what Agatha had told him.
    ‘Mrs Cutler said nothing of that to me,’ complained James.
    ‘Probably she reserves all her nice manners for us gentlemen. I found her charming as well. You should join forces with