Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

was because you were too old!’
    ‘I told you no such thing. I did not think it necessary to explain my reasons to a trollop like you. I saw the error of my ways and contributing to Save Our Foxes was a way of making amends.’
    Jane Cutler tittered. ‘How odd. I simply cannot imagine you as having one sensitive bone in your body, Mary. You would make a good murderess.’
    ‘Ah, but I have an alibi,’ Mary flashed back. ‘Which is more than you can say for yourself.’
    ‘The guilty ones always have a cast-iron alibi.’
    ‘Ladies, ladies.’ Bill Allen held up his hands, red and powerful in the sunlight. ‘Peace. We’ve all had our differences over the years but we’ve all stuck together through thick and thin. It’s a lovely day and there seems to be a lot more champagne. So let’s just bury the hatchet and enjoy ourselves.’
    ‘I’ll kill that waiter,’ muttered Agatha to James. ‘This is going to cost a fortune.’
    ‘Worth every penny. I’ll pay for the champers.’
    The councillors began to gossip together about safe village topics. Agatha and James seemed to be forgotten.
    When they finally all reeled off to their cars, drunkenly oblivious to the fact that each was now well over the limit, James and Agatha waved them goodbye and went in to survey the debris of the party.
    ‘Well, if the purpose of the party had been to really get that nasty lot together again,’ said Agatha, ‘we succeeded.’
    ‘We got a lot of what we wanted. Let’s see if we can get hold of Bill Wong tomorrow and find out more about those notes. And then let’s call on Mary’s sister. If she’s been covering for her, we might be able to guess something from her manner. We need an excuse.’
    ‘I know.’ Agatha held up a silver lighter. ‘This is Mary’s. We can say we happened to be in Mircester and thought she might be visiting.’

Chapter Eight

    They drove out under a large, windy Cotswolds sky. The wind had turned cold, a harbinger of autumn. Agatha reflected that the older she got, the shorter got the summers and the longer and darker the winters. Of course, living in the country made a difference. One did not notice winter in the city quite so much.
    When they got to police headquarters, it was to find that Bill had a day off and was at home.
    ‘I hate going there,’ grumbled Agatha. ‘His parents are such downers.’
    ‘Phone first and make sure it’s all right,’ said James.
    Agatha went to a phone-box and dialled Bill’s number. Mrs Wong answered.
    ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said. ‘What do you want?’
    ‘I would like to speak to Bill,’ said Agatha patiently.
    ‘Well, you can’t –’ began Mrs Wong when the phone was taken from her and Bill’s voice came on the line.
    ‘We hate to bother you on your day off,’ said Agatha.
    ‘We?’
    ‘Me and James. But we wanted to ask you something.’
    ‘Come round. My young lady’s here.’
    ‘Oh, in that case, maybe we’d better leave it.’
    ‘No, no. I would really like you to meet her.’
    Agatha said they’d be about ten minutes and then rejoined James.
    ‘He says to come round but he’s got his young lady there.’
    ‘And is that a problem?’ asked James.
    ‘It is, in a way. I’m very fond of Bill and I don’t want to be a spectator when his parents ruin his love life one more time.’
    ‘If she really cares for him, then nothing will put her off.’
    ‘Oh, Mrs Wong will think of something.’
    They drove to Bill’s parents’ modern brick house set among others of the same design in a neat private housing estate.
    ‘We’re just having a drink before lunch,’ said Bill, when he answered the door. ‘I’d like to invite you as well, but Mum says she doesn’t have enough.’
    ‘It’s all right,’ said Agatha quickly. ‘We’ll only be a few minutes.’
    ‘Come into the lounge and meet Sharon and then we’ll go out into the back garden for a private chat.’
    When they entered the small chilly lounge, the air was heavy with silence. Sharon, a pretty young girl, looked up, her face breaking into a smile of relief.
    ‘Sherry?’ offered Bill. He poured two little glassfuls of sweet sherry and handed them to Agatha and James. ‘Now this is Sharon Beck. Sharon, Mrs Agatha Raisin and Mr James Lacey.’
    ‘Ever so pleased,’ murmured Sharon.
    ‘It’s his day off,’ grumbled Mr Wong. ‘Don’t see why people should bother us on Bill’s day off.’
    ‘Do you enjoy working at police headquarters?’ Agatha asked