Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham

car key could soon be used by scientists to catch and convict criminals. Researchers have developed a method of DNA fingerprinting which will work with a single human cell.” Didn’t shed any dandruff around Shawpart’s house, did you?’
    ‘I don’t have dandruff,’ said Agatha crossly, ‘and anyway, the police know I visited him although I didn’t tell them I was there when the fire started. So what?’
    ‘Let’s eat.’
    ‘I couldn’t.’
    Charles threw down the paper. ‘I’ll make us something. Got to keep your strength up.’
    After fifteen minutes, he called Agatha into the kitchen. ‘Cup of soup and cheese omelette. Get it down you.’
    Agatha found to her surprise that she was hungry.
    They tried to watch television after dinner, but Agatha finally said, ‘I think I’ll have an early night.’
    ‘Good idea.’
    Agatha found she could not sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Mrs Darry and the dog lying in their own blood.
    She got out of bed and went to Charles’s room. He was lying awake, reading.
    ‘I can’t sleep,’ said Agatha. ‘I’ve got the horrors.’
    ‘Come and join me and cuddle up.’
    She climbed into bed next to him. He held her close and then began to kiss her hair.
    ‘Charles,’ protested Agatha, ‘I didn’t come for . . .’

Chapter Six

    Agatha awoke in the morning to find Charles gone. She stretched and yawned and then remembered the night’s love-making as if it had all happened in a dream. But the sun was shining outside and the horrors had gone.
    She went down to the kitchen. Charles had left a note: ‘Just remembered I’ve got guests arriving. Phone you later, Charles.’
    It wouldn’t have hurt him to have said something affectionate, thought Agatha. She went back upstairs and washed and dressed and came down just as the doorbell rang. For the first time, she did not hope it was James. It must be Charles. With a glad smile, she flung open the door.
    Mrs Bloxby stood there. Agatha’s face fell. ‘Oh, it’s you. Come in.’
    ‘Who were you expecting?’
    ‘Charles. You’ve heard about the murder? Of course you have. It was dreadful. Absolutely dreadful. Did she have any family?’
    ‘She has a daughter and son,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘They are with the police at the moment.’
    Agatha told her all about Mrs Darry, about the attempted blackmail, and how Mrs Darry had said she was going to play detective herself.
    ‘But she couldn’t have got very far,’ exclaimed the vicar’s wife. ‘Unless, of course, she had known John Shawpart somewhere before. Where was he before he came to Evesham?’
    ‘Portsmouth. He said Portsmouth. I might drive there today and see what I can find out.’
    ‘So who are your suspects?’
    ‘I don’t think we have any except perhaps either Mrs Friendly’s husband or Maggie Henderson’s husband. There is a certain Jessie Lang who works at a dentist’s in Evesham who knew him and was seen at his house. Oh, and John told me he had been married once. Damn, the police probably know who to and where but they won’t tell me.’
    ‘And where is Charles today?’ asked Mrs Bloxby brightly – too brightly, thought Agatha as those mild eyes studied her face.
    ‘Oh, he’s got guests. He’ll probably be back later.’ Did he pack? wondered Agatha suddenly.
    ‘Of course, I don’t think it can be a man,’ said Mrs Bloxby.
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Just a feeling.’
    ‘I don’t know. Of course poisoning is traditionally a woman’s weapon.’
    ‘In history, a lot of the famous poisoners were actually men – Neill Cream, Carlyle Harris, Roland B. Molineux, Henri Landru, and so on.’
    Agatha sighed. ‘I keep forgetting that fire. Whoever set that fire killed John; I’m sure of it. Where was Mrs Darry living before she came here?’
    Mrs Bloxby frowned in concentration. Then she shook her head. ‘She told me, but I can’t remember at the moment. It’ll come back to me. I think perhaps you should leave this to the police. That killing of Mrs Darry was savage. Perhaps it might be wise if you went away for a bit. If the murderer is one of the people you’ve already talked to, they might come after you.’
    ‘I’ll try just a little bit longer. In villages, people are supposed to know everyone else’s comings and goings. It’s a wonder no one was seen going to Mrs Darry’s cottage.’
    ‘Ah, but our local bobby, Fred, told me the police think whoever it was entered from the back. If someone went round by the