Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

but accentuate the bags under the eyes and the lines down either side of the mouth.
    What did James want? And why, oh why, had he chosen this morning of all mornings to phone?
    She washed and dressed, made up with care, and went down to the kitchen, where Guy was sitting at the table in one of her frilly dressing-gowns drinking coffee.
    He gave her a warm smile. Agatha blinked at him. She wished she had never gone to bed with him again. But James seemed to have been gone so long and they had both drunk rather a lot at dinner the night before.
    She wondered if Guy felt any affection for her at all. Charles, that wretched baronet, had seemed to treat her as an easy lay, but he had teased her and laughed at her and had seemed genuinely fond of her in his way. But Guy seemed to be acting a part.
    Agatha glanced at the kitchen clock. Five minutes to ten. ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said hurriedly ‘Could you let yourself out? And won’t you be in trouble turning up late at the office?’
    He laughed. ‘One of the benefits of being a director is one can turn up late at the office.’
    She bent over him and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘Phone you later,’ said Agatha and made her escape.
    It had been raining during the night and the air was fresh and clean, making Agatha feel soiled and depraved. She hoped to have a few words with James, but when she arrived outside his door she was joined by Bill Wong, who had just driven up.
    Bill and Agatha stared in amazement at the blond and ear-ringed James who answered the door.
    ‘What’s happened to you?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘Part of my disguise,’ said James. ‘I’ve been undercover. Come in and sit down and I’ll tell you who murdered Robert Struthers.’
    ‘So you’ve been investigating on your own.’ Colour flamed in Agatha’s face.
    ‘You’ve got a love-bite on your neck,’ said James coldly.
    ‘Here, now,’ admonished Bill. ‘This is important.’
    They all sat down, Agatha and Bill on a sofa facing James, who sat in his favourite armchair.
    ‘I joined Save Our Foxes,’ said James.
    ‘So it was you I saw on television,’ cried Agatha.
    ‘The barbecue? Yes, that was me,’ said James proudly. ‘Well, here’s what I found out. They are going to the spring tomorrow afternoon and they are going to block it off with cement. And that’s not all. I’ve found out who’s paying them to demonstrate. Mary Owen.’
    ‘But according to gossip, she’s fallen on hard times,’ said Agatha. ‘So she couldn’t afford to pay them.’
    ‘The gossip, like most village gossip, is probably wrong,’ said James loftily. ‘Anyone who can pay this bunch of thugs to behave badly must have felt passionately enough about the whole affair to have murdered Struthers.’
    Agatha was suddenly glad of James’s horribly bleached hair and ear-rings. It was easy to think of him as a stranger. She suddenly felt very tired. All she hoped was that Guy had taken himself off so that she could creep back under the duvet and go to sleep.
    ‘Did you report this to Zak?’ asked Bill sharply.
    ‘Who’s Zak?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘An undercover policeman who made himself known to James.’
    Both looked at James. ‘I hadn’t time to get to him.’
    ‘We know from him about the protest tomorrow,’ said Bill.
    ‘So you knew where James was all along,’ said Agatha furiously, glaring at Bill.
    ‘But Zak didn’t know about Mary Owen,’ said James quickly. ‘I found that out by getting one of the members drunk.’
    ‘We’ll pull her in for questioning. She has an alibi,’ said Bill. ‘On the night of the murder she was staying with her sister in Mircester.’
    ‘Her sister could be covering for her.’
    ‘You haven’t met the sister, a Mrs Darcy, straight-talking, honest. But we’ll check out the alibi again.’
    ‘You should have told me about this, James,’ said Agatha. ‘We’ve always investigated things together in the past.’
    ‘I would have done if you hadn’t been preoccupied in screwing around with a toy boy.’
    ‘That’s enough.’ Bill got to his feet. ‘Come along, Agatha.’
    When they had gone, James phoned a hairdresser in Evesham and made an appointment to get his hair dyed back to its normal colour. Agatha and Bill had made him feel small and petty. Bill was right. He should have told Zak.
    When Agatha went into her cottage, her phone was ringing. She answered it and found it was Roy Silver.
    ‘Just calling to see how things are going,’ he