Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham

in the fire.’
    Mavis’s eyes narrowed. ‘So where the hell do you two get off, tormenting me?’ She stood up. ‘Get out of here!’
    ‘We’re only trying to find out who did it,’ said Agatha patiently.
    ‘That’s a job for the police. I’ve a good mind to report you.’
    ‘If you do that,’ said Charles, ‘we’ll be obliged to tell the police what we know about you.’
    Mavis crumpled. ‘I’m sorry. But it has all been so horrible. I’m sorry I got angry.’
    ‘That’s all right. We’ll be off,’ said Charles. ‘Think no more about it.’ He stood aside to let Agatha past, and then whipped round.
    ‘You weren’t ever married to John Shawpart, were you?’
    ‘No!’
    ‘Know anything about his wife?’
    ‘He said something about her being jealous of him. She was a hairdresser as well.’
    They thanked her and left.
    ‘How did you know about her, Charles?’ asked Agatha as they drove off.
    ‘I didn’t. I just guessed.’
    ‘Why? How?’
    ‘Well, Shawpart seems to have been a cunning bastard. If there was no money in it, he dropped them.’
    ‘So what made you think he hadn’t dropped Mavis? She told me she had told him that she hadn’t any money and I believed her.’
    ‘It was a lucky guess. I thought it was worth a try. I mean, she did tell him all those lies about herself to get his interest. She must have told him the one about her drug-dealing daughter was a lie or he wouldn’t even have bothered bedding her. He’d just have used that.’
    ‘Let’s go back and make some notes,’ said Agatha. ‘Interested again?’
    ‘Sort of. There might be something I’ve missed.’
    ‘Now,’ said Charles, sitting over a sheet of paper at Agatha’s kitchen table half an hour later, ‘let’s see what we’ve got. We’ve got Mavis Burke. She could have put ricin in his vitamin pills. Then there’s the receptionist, Josie. She was in love with him. Mr and Mrs Friendly. Maggie Henderson or her brutal husband. Harriet of Portsmouth or her husband.’
    ‘But Harriet’s husband left her for the secretary.’
    ‘So she said. Could be another liar. She could have looked shocked when Luke turned up on her doorstep, not at seeing him again but in case you guessed she’d been telling a pack of lies. Anyone else?’
    ‘Jessie Lang, but that’s a non-starter.’
    Charles leaned back in his chair. ‘Yes, let’s think about Jessie Lang. Why would our philandering blackmailer waste his time on a bit of crumpet with no money? Not his scene.’
    ‘I’m sure she was telling me the truth,’ said Agatha hotly. ‘You think she’s lying because I got a lot more out of her than you did!’
    ‘It’s a thought all the same. Then there’s Mrs Shawpart.’
    ‘But we don’t know where she is!’
    ‘Don’t we? We don’t know how long any of the married women suspects have been married. Could be Mavis.’
    ‘Who miraculously produces a teen-aged daughter and son after about a year?’
    ‘Did you see any photos of her children? I didn’t. I don’t trust Mavis one bit.’
    ‘We’re forgetting Mrs Darry,’ said Agatha. ‘Poor Mrs Darry. What on earth could she have possibly found out that we didn’t?’
    ‘That’s a point. Why don’t we trot along to the vicarage and ask Mrs Bloxby for some gossip?’
    As they approached the vicarage door, Agatha found herself hoping the vicar was not at home to start shouting in front of Charles about ‘that dreadful woman’.
    But Mrs Bloxby answered the door with her usual glad smile of welcome. Agatha knew her to be a busy woman and yet she never appeared to be flustered by the unheralded arrival of visitors.
    ‘This is nice,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘Come into the kitchen. I’ve got some fresh coffee ready.’
    Agatha sat down at the kitchen table and half-closed her eyes, letting the peace of the vicarage wash over her. Why did she always create such an insane world for herself, she wondered, where the totally unacceptable became the acceptable? What was she doing sitting here companionably with Charles? She should have told him to get lost, she should have said she would never see him again. And, what was even more important, she should stop this silly business of pretending to be a detective and let the police get on with it.
    Mrs Bloxby put down thin china mugs of coffee in front of them and a plate of chocolate biscuits before sitting down herself. ‘You were away yesterday, Agatha?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘The press were suddenly all over