“Mrs. Raisin’s agency has a good reputation,” said the vicar firmly.

“I’ll do it,” said Agatha. “I feel responsible.”

“So you should,” said Trixie, tossing her long hair. “Where’s George?”

“I think he’s gone home,” said Agatha. “I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”

She headed to where she had parked her car to find Toni waiting for her. “We’ve been employed,” said Agatha. “I think you and I should concentrate on this case and leave Phil and Patrick to cope with the rest.” Agatha suddenly remembered Bill’s request. “How are you and Bill getting along?” she asked.

“Fine.”

“Madly in love?”

“We’re just friends. No fire lit. Not for me, not for him, but poor Bill thinks there should be something just because his mum and dad want it.” Toni had wanted to leave the agency and join the police force, but she owed Agatha a great deal. Agatha had rescued her from a brutal home. Perhaps when this case was over, she might find the courage to leave.

“See you at the office,” said Agatha, stifling a yawn. “Make it eight o’clock. I’ll phone Phil and Patrick and get them there early as well.”

As Agatha drove up to her cottage, she saw Charles’s car parked outside. She frowned in irritation. She didn’t feel like coping with Charles and she resented the way he used her cottage like a hotel.

She let herself in. Charles was asleep on the sofa, with the television still on. Agatha switched it off and went upstairs to bed without waking Charles. Sleep did not come easily. She tossed and turned, remembering the events of the catastrophic day. It had all started so well, good-natured crowds flooding into the village and over to a field where a stage had been set up for Betsy. How pretty she had looked with her filmy dress floating in the slightest of breezes. After Betsy had driven off, a great number of people had started to head away. Then the disaster of poor Mrs. Andrews’s flight from the tower. Who had put LSD, if that’s what it was, in the jam? She remembered Toni’s concise report. Her young detective had really shown her up. But she, Agatha, had been running here and there, trying to get the security guards to contain the scene. She fell down at last into a nightmare where Trixie and George were laughing at her because she had turned up at the fête without a stitch on.