Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

Sharon.
    ‘Oh, ever so much. The other girls are really nice.’
    ‘Don’t hold with girls working once they’re married,’ said Mr Wong.
    There was an awkward silence and then Mrs Wong said, ‘It’s just as well we’ve got the spare bedroom.’
    Another silence.
    ‘Why?’ asked Agatha desperately.
    ‘So that when Bill gets married, they can live here.’
    ‘I didn’t think any young married couples lived with the parents of one or the other these days,’ said James.
    ‘No reason not to,’ said Mrs Wong. ‘If Bill marries Sharon here, well, she’ll need to stop working because of babies and that, and he doesn’t make enough.’
    Sharon looked like some frightened animal cowering in the undergrowth.
    ‘I feel awkward breaking into your lunch party.’ Agatha stood up. ‘If we could just have that word, Bill?’
    ‘Sure. Let’s go into the garden.’
    ‘Don’t be long,’ called Mrs Wong. ‘It’s shepherd’s pie.’
    The garden was Bill’s domain and its beauty contrasted with the cold stuffiness of his family home.
    ‘So what do you want to know?’ he asked.
    ‘Those notes Robina Toynbee left,’ said James. ‘They were typewritten?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘But she didn’t have a typewriter,’ said Agatha.
    ‘No, we couldn’t find one. We’re asking around the village to see if she got someone to type them for her.’
    ‘What did the notes say?’
    ‘Not much. Just instructions for the speech. Things like, begin with welcome. Outline benefits to village from water company. That sort of thing. Only two small pages.’
    ‘Don’t you find that odd?’ asked Agatha. ‘I mean, no typewriter?’
    ‘That’s what we’re looking into.’
    ‘Fred Shaw was up at Robina’s cottage the night before,’ said James.
    ‘We know.’ Bill dead-headed a rose. ‘He came forward and told us about it. He said she was being frightened by anonymous letters but she must have burnt them all. We didn’t find any.’
    ‘Wait a bit.’ Agatha frowned. ‘I’ve just remembered something. Fred Shaw. He was determined to make a speech at the fête himself. I didn’t know how to put him off. He said he would call on me and discuss it but he never did.’
    ‘He could have changed his mind when he heard The Pretty Girls were supposed to be opening it.’
    ‘True. But he’s very vain and bullying. And there’s something else. I can’t remember if I told you. There was bad feeling between Andy Stiggs and Robert Struthers. Andy wanted to marry the late Mrs Struthers and claimed Robert had stolen her away.’
    ‘But why kill Robina Toynbee?’ asked Bill.
    ‘Because Andy Stiggs was against the water company.’
    ‘Bill!’ Mrs Wong, shrill and bad-tempered, appeared in the doorway. ‘Are you coming in or not? I was just saying to Sharon that when you’re married, she’ll need to see you get your meals on time.’
    ‘Coming, Mum.’
    ‘You’re not engaged, are you?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘Not yet,’ said Bill with a grin. ‘But that’s Mum for you. Always hoping.’
    ‘Yes, that’s Mum for you,’ said Agatha bitterly as they drove off. ‘Can’t Bill see how she frightens them all away? But no. He adores his parents and doesn’t see anything wrong with them.’
    ‘I suppose, in that, he’s luckier than most. Did you adore your parents, Agatha?’
    ‘They were drunk most of the time. I couldn’t wait to get away from them. What about you?’
    ‘Mine were great. My father died ten years ago and my mother only survived him by a year. She was devoted to him.’
    ‘What did they die of?’
    ‘My father died of a stroke and my mother of cancer.’
    ‘So much cancer about,’ mourned Agatha. ‘I must give up smoking.’
    ‘There’s a hypnotist in Mircester who’s supposed to have a good success rate. There was an article about him in the Cotswold Journal . I’ve still got it.’
    ‘Give it to me when we get back. I’ll give it a try.’
    ‘Now can you remember where Mrs Darcy lives?’
    ‘If you go back to the centre I can guide you from there.’
    Soon they were cruising along the quiet street where Mary Owen’s sister lived. ‘Stop here,’ said Agatha, ‘and we’ll get out and walk. I’m not quite sure where it was. It was dark.’
    They got out and walked along. ‘I think about here.’ Agatha stopped. ‘There was a street lamp, and yes, a lilac tree.’
    ‘There are several lilac trees along here.’
    ‘Let’s try anyway.’
    But the woman who answered the door to