As The Pig Turns

excellent nanny for the two youngest: that’s Carol, aged four, and Josie, aged five. My eldest, my boy, Wolfgang, is at Mircester High. He’s thirteen.’
    ‘Wolfgang is an odd name for a British child.’
    ‘Tom’s father is German. He insisted the boy was named after him. He’s called Wolf at school, so he doesn’t mind. My husband thought I should understand the workings of his business empire from the ground up. I didn’t mind the shelf stacking. It was a peaceful, mindless job. I got to know Amy. The others knew I was the boss’s wife and thought I had been put there to spy on them, but Amy would chatter away to me.
    ‘I invited her back one afternoon for tea. We both had the same day off. I thought Tom was away on business, but he turned up. He started questioning Amy about how much she thought was being sold and what were the most popular items. Soon they were deep in conversation and seemed to have forgotten I existed.
    ‘A few weeks later, Tom asked me for a divorce. At first I was shattered, but when he explained he would pay maintenance, the thought that I could jack in my job and stay at home with the children suddenly seemed like a road out of hell. Goodness, what a listener you are. I shouldn’t be criticizing Tom.’
    ‘I just wondered,’ said Toni cautiously, ‘whether Tom ever suggested improvements to your appearance.’
    ‘Night and day,’ said Fiona Richards gloomily. ‘He wanted me to go out to LA and get a face-lift. He always chose my clothes, but that was one thing too far. I tried to laugh and say I wanted to reach an elegant old age and . . . and . . . he hit me.’
    ‘Didn’t you go to the police?’
    ‘He would have hired the best lawyers. I felt I wouldn’t have a chance. So I bought a tape recorder and I began to record all the vicious rows and the sound of the beatings. My small salary was paid into an account in my name. I went to that bank and hired a safe-deposit box and put copies of all the tapes into it. Then I told him I was going to the police with the evidence.
    ‘He stormed out of the house, but when he came back, he said that he had fallen in love with Amy and would give me a divorce. I couldn’t believe my luck until he finally moved out. He comes back regularly to see the children. Oh, he’s all right with them. I bumped into Amy before she got her cosmetic alterations. She was very friendly, but she said an odd thing just as she was leaving. She said, “I miss Gary. Gary would have sorted him out.”’
    ‘So it looks as if she was off her new husband before she even went to the States,’ said Toni.
    ‘Now, how am I to get home? I’m over the limit.’
    ‘I’ll get you a cab,’ said Toni. ‘Is there anyone who can come and get your car?’
    ‘Yes, the nanny, Mrs Drufus.’ She leaned forward and looked earnestly at Toni. ‘Do you think Tom killed Gary?’
    ‘If it had just been a blow on the head, I could believe it,’ said Toni. ‘But to kill a man – he was evidently knifed to death – and then to cut off his head and try to get him roasted as a pig – no. It sounds to me like the work of several people.’
    ‘Would you keep in touch with me?’ asked Fiona plaintively. ‘You’re such a good listener. Now, if I had a daughter like you . . . Oh, well.’
    She rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet. Toni found her a taxi and sent her on her way.
    Agatha cursed under her breath. The girl’s report on Fiona Richards was so good. Toni, with her youth and air of innocence, could winkle stories out of people who would otherwise have clammed up when faced with Agatha herself.
    After leaving a note on Toni’s desk thanking her for her work, along with Simon’s letter and wedding invitation, Agatha went out into the freezing cold. The time had come to ask Amy Richards why she had lied. Agatha realized she would need to tell the truth and confess she had never gone to Florida.
    Amy answered the door. She wasn’t wearing her contact lenses, showing her eyes were brown. She looked as if she had been crying.
    ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said bleakly.
    Agatha shivered. ‘Let me in.’
    She pushed past the slim figure of Amy and into the living room. Agatha removed her heavy coat and a shawl that made her feel she looked like Mother Machree, cursing all antifur activists under her breath. Mink were vermin. They should be clothing her back instead of marauding around the countryside, killing off the native species.
    ‘Amy, I haven’t been