Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham

autumn fell. Do you think it’s the ozone layer?’
    ‘Probably it’s disintegrating under all the cigarette smoke from people like you.’
    ‘Nasty. I wonder if that hypnotist in Gloucester is any good.’
    ‘You’ll never know until you try.’
    ‘It’s the mean people like you who manage to cut down on their smoking, Charles.’
    ‘You’re just jealous because you’re a confirmed addict. Why don’t you just stop now?’
    There was a silence and then Agatha said suddenly, ‘Why don’t I? When we get to Mircester, I’m going to take the cigarettes out of my handbag and throw them in the nearest rubbish bin.’
    ‘And what about that carton you’ve got at home?’
    ‘We shall burn them ceremoniously on the fire when we get home.’
    As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Agatha felt the hunger for a cigarette. She would fight it. It was only a matter of will-power.
    They parked outside police headquarters in Mircester. ‘Probably be out on a job,’ said Charles. ‘We should have called.’
    ‘We’ll try anyway.’
    They were in luck. They were shown into a room and told that Bill would be with them shortly.
    He arrived and greeted them with the words, ‘I hope you two have been keeping your noses clean.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Agatha huffily. ‘But we can’t help being curious. We just wanted to know if you’d found Shawpart’s wife.’
    ‘I don’t see that there is any harm in telling you that we haven’t. Why?’
    ‘She could be in Evesham.’
    ‘She was last heard of in Glasgow. A friend of hers got a postcard from her.’
    ‘What friend?’ asked Agatha eagerly.
    ‘I’m not telling you. When you call on someone, Agatha, the next thing we know, that person has mysteriously died.’
    ‘Mrs Darry was from Portsmouth,’ said Agatha eagerly. ‘That was the connection.’
    ‘Obviously,’ said Bill. ‘But we do not know what she found out.’
    ‘Can’t you give us any help?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘I can’t,’ said Bill. ‘You caused enough trouble by masquerading as Shawpart’s sister and then lying about driving past the house. Agatha, please just leave it alone.’
    ‘Well, if you don’t want my help . . .’
    ‘I DON’T!’
    ‘There’s no need to shout.’
    ‘Look, Agatha, you’ve nearly got yourself killed before and I don’t want to see that happening again.’
    But Agatha was deeply offended. ‘Come along, Charles,’ she said haughtily. ‘Bill obviously doesn’t want to tell us anything.’
    Charles winked at Bill and meekly followed her from the room.
    ‘He’s only concerned for you, Aggie,’ said Charles mildly when they were outside.
    ‘Tough,’ grumbled Agatha. ‘He can sit there and rot. I shall never offer him my help again.’
    ‘Bit hard. He’s gone out on a limb for you before.’
    ‘Like when?’
    ‘Like when he faxed all that stuff to you in Cyprus. Let’s go back to your cottage and cool down.’
    After a late and silent lunch, Charles suddenly said he would go home and check out things there. Agatha could think of nothing to say or suggest to keep him. She heartily wished there could be some way she could find out more about what the police had discovered.
    She pottered around aimlessly for the rest of the day, played with her cats and fed them, watched some television, or rather flicked backwards and forwards through the channels, and then decided to have an early night.
    But Agatha tossed and turned. She kept going over what she had found out again and again. Faces swam in front of her – Maggie, Jessie, Harriet, Josie and the rest. At last, she felt her eyes close. She would forget about the whole thing, go to that nice hairdresser, Marie, and get her hair done and maybe buy a new dress.
    Suddenly her eyes shot open. She could almost hear Marie’s voice talking about the jealousies and rivalries in the hairdressing business. And wait a bit! John Shawpart had said the same thing. And who was it had said that John’s wife had been jealous of him?
    Her heart beat faster. And who was it who had turned up in Evesham after John’s death, set up business and taken over his staff?
    Eve!
    Mrs Shawpart had been described as blonde and statuesque. But then in these days of clever dying and tinting, Eve could have changed her hair from blonde. It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.
    The next day she phoned up Eve’s and told Josie she insisted that Eve herself did her hair. Josie sulkily said she could fit her in at three that