Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham

a blackmailer in the first place? Ah, I know. I told you. I heard some woman threatening to kill him when I was in the loo at the hairdresser’s. John said it was a couple in the shop next door who were always quarrelling. But although I could hear her voice, I couldn’t distinguish the voice of the man. He kept his low. It could’ve been John.’
    ‘Right.’ He made a note. ‘We’ll check out that shop afterwards. Next.’
    ‘Wait a bit. He told me he had been married once. That’s a thought. I wonder if he had any children and who inherits.’
    ‘We’ll try to find out.’
    ‘There was another candidate for blackmail. There was a customer talking to him about her daughter Betty. She said she thought her daughter was not only on drugs but pushing them as well. Her husband was called Jim.’
    ‘Good. More.’
    ‘Then we now know about Mrs Darry, Maggie, and Liza Friendly. Wait a bit. There’s Josie.’
    ‘Who’s she?’
    ‘Vapid little receptionist. Seemed besotted with John and very jealous of me.’
    ‘Ah,’ said Charles, making another note. ‘I think I should handle that one. I’ll get my hair cut and chat her up. That way I can pick up the gossip about the customers.’
    ‘Then,’ said Agatha, ‘do you remember how Liza was telling us about watching the house and she saw this blonde? How did she describe her? Blonde, I think, rabbity, prominent teeth, skinny legs. I think that’s all we’ve got.’
    ‘So there’s one of these suspects or maybe someone we haven’t heard of who had the keys to his house. Remember, you didn’t hear anyone breaking in . . . unless . . . Oh, why didn’t we think of the obvious?’
    ‘What?’
    ‘I bet when you let yourself in you didn’t lock the door behind you.’
    Agatha goggled at him.
    ‘Think!’ urged Charles. ‘Was it a Yale, the kind that would automatically click shut and lock behind you?’
    ‘No,’ said Agatha slowly. ‘It was a mortise. Biggish key.’
    ‘Then that explains that.’
    Agatha clutched his arm. ‘Don’t you see, if someone knew just to walk in, they must have known I was in there!’
    ‘Could be. Or maybe someone just tried the handle first and meant to break in if the door was locked. Did it have glass panes?’
    ‘Yes, those stained-glass ones. You know, Charles, I think we might be concentrating too hard on the blackmailing angle.’
    ‘What other angle is there?’
    ‘Oh, passion and jealousy. Jealous woman, jealous husband. Remember, someone did beat him up.’
    ‘Stick to blackmail,’ said Charles in an authoritative manner which made Agatha long to prove him wrong.
    ‘If you’ve finished,’ said Agatha huffily, ‘let’s try that shop next door to the hairdresser’s. Wait a bit. Surely the hairdresser’s will be closed down?’
    ‘Damn, of course it will be.’
    ‘Let’s take a look anyway.’
    They walked along the High Street. Sure enough, the hairdresser’s was closed and dark.
    ‘We’ll try the shop next door,’ said Charles.
    They both entered a small dark shop which sold an assortment of cheap souvenirs.
    There was an enormous woman behind the counter dressed in a man’s shirt and leggings. They could see the leggings because she was bending over to pick up something from the bottom shelves behind the counter.
    ‘Excuse me,’ began Agatha. The woman straightened up and turned round.
    She had a large, round, truculent face and thick glasses. ‘What d’ye want?’ she snapped.
    Agatha, accustomed to the usual friendly manners of the Evesham shopkeeper, blinked and said, ‘We wondered whether you knew that man next door who was murdered?’
    ‘And what’s it to do with you? You’re not the police. Who are you? More of those ghouls who want to gossip about the murder and not buy anything?’
    Agatha took the plunge. ‘I heard you threatening to kill Mr John.’
    Her large face was a study in surprise. ‘I never did! When’s this supposed to have happened?’
    ‘I was in the toilet at the hairdresser’s a few weeks ago. I asked John Shawpart about it and he said you and your husband were always quarrelling.’
    The woman held up a large, pudgy, ringless hand. ‘Ain’t got a husband. Come with me.’ She lifted the flap of the counter. They walked through. She led them through to a grimy kitchen in the back shop. She opened the kitchen door. ‘Look!’
    There was only a narrow little strip of yard. On the hairdresser’s side was a high wall. ‘On the other side of that