Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death

all served for years.’
    ‘What about council elections?’
    ‘Oh, those come and go but nobody else wanted the job and so nobody ever stands against them. The late Mr Struthers was chairman, Mr Andy Stiggs is vice chairman, and the rest – Miss Mary Owen, Mrs Jane Cutler, Mr Bill Allen, Mr Fred Shaw, and Miss Angela Buckley. Mr Struthers was a retired banker. Mr Stiggs is a retired shopkeeper, Miss Mary Owen, independently wealthy. Mrs Jane Cutler, also wealthy, is a widow, Mr Bill Allen runs the garden centre, Mr Fred Shaw is the local electrician and Miss Angela Buckley is a farmer’s daughter.’
    ‘And who was for selling the water and who against?’
    ‘As far as I remember, Mrs Cutler, Fred Shaw and Angela Buckley were for it, and Mary Owen, Bill Allen and Andy Stiggs, against. The chairman had the casting vote and as far as I know he had not yet made up his mind.’
    ‘It could be that one of the fors or one of the againsts could have known which way he was going to vote and didn’t like it,’ said Agatha, her bearlike eyes gleaming under the heavy fringe of her brown hair.
    ‘I shouldn’t really think so. They are all quite elderly, except Miss Buckley, who is in her forties. They have all led unblemished lives.’
    ‘But this seems to have stirred them all up.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Bloxby reluctantly. ‘The debates have been hot and furious. And of course the villagers themselves are split into two camps. Mary Owen claims the villagers have not been consulted and she is holding a meeting in the village hall. I think it was due to take place next week but I am sure it will be put off in view of this murder.’
    ‘If it does turn out to be murder,’ said Agatha slowly. ‘I mean, he was old and he was lying face-up. He could have had a seizure, fallen backwards and struck his head on the basin.’
    ‘Let’s hope that is the case. If not, the press will arrive and television crews will arrive and it is so beautiful here that we will have to suffer from more tourists than usual.’
    ‘I’m a bit of a tourist myself,’ said Agatha huffily. ‘I don’t really belong here. It drives me mad when people in the village complain about those terrible tourists when they’ve just come back from a holiday abroad where they’ve been tourists themselves.’
    ‘That’s not quite true,’ said the vicar’s wife gently. ‘Carsely people do not like leaving Carsely.’
    ‘I don’t care. They go into Evesham and Moreton to do their shopping, so they are taking up someone else’s bit of space. The world is one planet full of tourists.’
    ‘Or displaced people. Think of Bosnia.’
    ‘Bugger Bosnia,’ said Agatha with all the venom of one who has been made to feel guilty. ‘Sorry,’ she mumbled. ‘I must be a bit upset.’
    ‘I am sure you are. It must have been a shocking experience.’
    And it had been, thought Agatha. Some women such as herself were cursed with the same machismo as men. Her first thought had been to say, ‘Oh, it was all right. I’m used to dead bodies, you know.’ But Agatha had been afraid of so many things during her life that she had gone through the world with her fists swinging until the gentle life of Carsely and the kindness of the villagers had got under the carapace she had created for herself.
    ‘If it should be murder and I concentrate on that,’ said Agatha slowly, ‘I might take this job of public relations officer for the Ancombe Water Company.’
    ‘Mrs Darry said you already had it.’
    ‘What a gossip that frump is! I only told her because she called round to ask me to get her some water from the spring and said, more or less, that I had nothing else to do. She made me feel as if I were already on the scrap-heap.’
    ‘It could be dangerous for you if you asked too many questions.’
    ‘If it’s murder, it will probably be quickly solved. One of the fors didn’t want Struthers to block it or one of the againsts thought he was going to break up village life and pollute the environment.’
    ‘I don’t think that can be the case. You don’t know the parish council; I do. Certainly this issue has made them very heated, but they are stable, ordinary members of the community. Shall you and James be investigating it? You have both had a lot of success in the past.’
    ‘He has been very rude to me and snubbed me,’ said Agatha. ‘No, I shall not go near him.’
    When Mrs Bloxby left, Agatha got ready for bed. The old cottage creaked as it