Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham

There’s a packet in my handbag.’
    Agatha made two cups of instant coffee. She had given up making fresh coffee and was back to microwaving most of her meals. Old habits refused to die. She was weary of trying to be ‘a village person’.
    ‘What can we possibly do now?’ she asked, sitting down at the table.
    ‘I’m thinking. Let’s assume he is a blackmailer. Why does one become a blackmailer?’
    ‘Power?’
    ‘But money must be a strong motive. Money and greed. Think about this one. If you were to give him an expensive present. Drop the James business. Glow at him. Let him think he’s the one.’
    ‘What present?’ asked Agatha suspiciously.
    ‘Little something from Asprey’s. Does he smoke?’
    ‘No, not even mine.’
    ‘What about a tasteful pair of solid-gold cuff-links in a dinky little Asprey box?’
    ‘What about spending a thousand pounds? Are you going to contribute?’
    He looked shifty and his hand instinctively clasped protectively over the breast of his jacket. The foreigner presses his heart, thought Agatha cynically, but your true blue-blooded Englishman presses his wallet to make sure it’s safe.
    ‘Why should I waste a lot of money on a provincial hairdresser?’ Agatha demanded.
    ‘Because,’ said Charles patiently, ‘it would keep the game going, and the reason for keeping the game going is you’re bored.’
    ‘And so are you,’ said Agatha shrewdly.
    ‘But not as bored and depressed and lovelorn as you, light of my life.’
    ‘I’ll think about it.’
    ‘Do. You’ll find he’ll melt like butter and only think the best of you.’
    ‘If you’ve finished your coffee, I’ll show you out.’
    ‘I’m tired. Can’t I stay here?’
    ‘No. Out.’
    ‘Okay.’ He got to his feet. ‘Let me know how you get on.’
    ‘I haven’t said I’ll do it.’
    ‘Think about it, Aggie. Think about it.’
    Charles was right. Agatha could not bear to drop what she was beginning to consider ‘her case’.
    She drove to Moreton-in-Marsh station early the next morning and joined the commuters on the platform. Then the woman who manned the ticket office came out and shouted, ‘There will be no trains due to a shortage of engine drivers.’
    Cursing, Agatha walked back over the iron bridge to the car park. She got in her car and drove to Oxford and took a train from there to Paddington. From Paddington, she took a taxi to Asprey’s in Bond Street. In the almost religious hush of the great jeweller’s, she examined trays of cuff-links, finally selecting a heavy, solid-gold pair and paying a price for them which left her feeling breathless.
    She then travelled to the City to see her stockbroker and be reassured that her stocks and shares were prospering. As she was in the City, she called at Pedmans to see Roy Silver, a public relations officer who had originally worked for her before she had sold out to Pedmans.
    ‘I haven’t heard from you for a while,’ said Agatha, reflecting that Roy looked as weedy and unhealthy as ever. But obviously he was doing well. Her practised eye noticed that his suit was Armani.
    ‘I’ve been very busy, sweetie. How’s life in Boresville?’
    ‘I thought you liked the country. You’re always saying how lucky I am.’
    ‘A passing aberration. Sophisticates like me would wilt in the country.’
    ‘You’re joking, of course.’
    ‘Not really. What are you doing anyway? Village fêtes?’
    ‘No, much more exciting than that,’ said Agatha, but remembered that she had to arrange the teas for Ancombe and had better get back and call a catering company.
    ‘Murder?’
    Agatha wanted to brag. ‘I’m chasing a blackmailer.’
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    So Agatha did.
    Roy was intrigued. ‘Tell you what, I’ll come down this weekend and help you.’
    He hadn’t bothered phoning her for a long time, so Agatha said huffily, ‘Can’t. I’m busy this weekend.’
    When she got home, she phoned the hairdresser’s and made an appointment for the day after the next. The following day was the concert at Ancombe. Then she phoned a top catering firm in Mircester and ordered sandwiches, cakes and hot savouries to be delivered to her early the following morning. Agatha meant to convey the goodies to the concert herself and produce them as her own.
    On the following morning, she transferred all the catering firm’s supplies into her own boxes and put them in the boot of her car and drove to Ancombe.
    With the good excuse that she could not watch