Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham

regions.
    ‘You can take the offer of tea as thanks for trying to save her neck,’ said Charles.
    ‘It wasn’t her scrawny neck I was trying to save but Mrs Friendly’s. John really did prey on silly, ugly women who would be flattered by his attentions.’
    ‘And some not so ugly,’ said Charles with a slanting look at her.
    ‘I wasn’t taken in for a moment!’
    ‘That’s not the way I saw it.’
    ‘Never mind that,’ said Agatha hurriedly. ‘I wonder who inherits. Perhaps all this blackmailing business is clouding the issue. Perhaps he was murdered because of something else.’
    ‘Highly unlikely. Here she comes.’
    Mrs Darry returned and proceeded to pour tea that looked like discoloured water. Agatha guessed that she had only used one tea-bag in the pot and probably one that had been used already. There was a plate of hard biscuits.
    Mrs Darry seemed to have recovered most of her old composure – or nastiness, as Agatha judged it to be.
    ‘While I was making the tea,’ said Mrs Darry, ‘I was thinking of your so-called detective abilities. I have a shrewd inquiring mind and I am sure I could find out who did it.’
    ‘You mean you want to work with us?’ asked Agatha with a sinking heart.
    She gave a pitying laugh. ‘Oh, no. As the bard says, she travels fastest who travels alone.’
    ‘It was Kipling,’ corrected Charles. ‘“He travels fastest who travels alone.”’
    ‘Whatever.’
    Agatha put her teacup down in the saucer with an angry little click. ‘Then we will not waste any more of your valuable time.’ She got to her feet. Charles rose as well.
    ‘We could compare notes,’ said Mrs Darry graciously.
    ‘Oh, but that would surely impede your progress.’ Agatha headed resolutely for the door. Charles followed her outside. The dog ran after Agatha and began to snuffle eagerly at her ankles again. She picked it up, placed it inside and firmly shut the door. ‘Horrid little thing. Let’s get home, Charles, so I can disinfect my contaminated shoe.’
    After Agatha had washed her feet and put on clean tights and shoes, she joined Charles in the kitchen and said, ‘Portsmouth.’
    ‘What about it?’
    ‘That’s where he used to have a business. We could go there and talk to hairdressers and see if there was any scandal about him.’
    ‘Now? What if the police come calling?’
    ‘So what? We’re not leaving the country.’
    ‘Do you know Portsmouth? Huge place.’
    ‘We’ll get a hotel and look through the Yellow Pages and phone up hairdressers.’
    ‘Waste of time, Aggie. We go to Mircester Library and look up the Yellow Pages for Portsmouth and phone from here.’
    Agatha sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right. I just wanted to get away.’
    ‘Cheer up. If we find out anything on the phone, then we’ll go.’
    Just then, the phone rang. It was Mrs Bloxby. ‘I think I may have discovered your Maggie for you.’
    ‘Who is she?’ said Agatha eagerly. ‘Where does she live?’
    ‘I may be wrong but I think you want a Maggie Henderson. She lives at nine, Terrace Road, in Badsey. She’s a schoolteacher.’
    ‘How did you find out?’
    ‘I simply give her description, such as it was, and her first name to various people in the surrounding parishes. It may turn out to be the wrong Maggie.’
    ‘We’ll try anyway. Thanks a lot.’
    Agatha said goodbye and rang off. She told Charles her news.
    ‘Let’s leave Portsmouth just for now and try this Maggie,’ he said. ‘Badsey’s only a few miles away.’
    But when they drove to Badsey and found the correct address it was to discover that Maggie Henderson taught at a school at Worcester and was not expected back until about five o’clock. ‘And with our luck,’ said Agatha gloomily, ‘her husband will be home at the same time. Do we go to Worcester?’
    ‘No,’ said Charles. ‘Let’s go into Evesham and find a place for coffee and make notes on what we’ve got.’
    They parked in Merstow Green and walked across the road to a tea-shop off the Market Square. ‘Look at this!’ exclaimed Charles. ‘The last genuine old English tea-shop in captivity.’ It was low-beamed, quiet and dark. A waitress with a gentle Scottish accent took their order.
    ‘Now,’ said Charles, taking out a small notebook and a pen, ‘let’s see what we’ve got in the way of suspects. Begin at the beginning, Aggie. Anything you can think of.’
    Agatha rested her chin on her hands. ‘Let me see, what made me suspect him of being