“I don’t think so,” said the vicar. “Mrs. Andrews usually won. Her chunky marmalade was superb.”

“But there’s another one,” exclaimed Agatha. “Miss Triast-Perkins up at the manor. She said she had marmalade in the tasting.”

“I forgot about her,” said Trixie. “It’s the first year she’s entered anything.”

“So where can we find Miss Tubby and Miss Tolling?” asked Charles.

“They live together,” said the vicar.

“Lesbians,” said Trixie, twisting a long strand of golden hair between beringed fingers.

“Now, dear,” admonished Arthur. “I am sure it is all very innocent. They live in Rose Cottage, opposite the pub.”

“I never saw a pub,” said Agatha.

“It used to be a shop. It’s set a little back from the road. Called the Grunty Man.”

“Odd name.”

“Probably was the Green Man at one time.”

“Where have all the press gone?” asked Agatha.

“The police decided they were interfering with the investigation and banished them from the village and they have stopped any more entering.”

Toni had failed to get anything out of either Mrs. Glarely or Mrs. Cranton. At both addresses she was told by their husbands to “get lost.” She wandered back down the village street in the sunshine.

Men were dismantling the marquees which had held the exhibits. She stood watching as they took down the jam tent. As the canvas collapsed, something small and glittering in the sunlight rolled out from the folds and lay on the grass. Toni ran forward. It was a small glass phial.

“Stop!” she screamed at the workers. “Evidence. Stop! Get the police.”

The door of the mobile police unit opened and Bill Wong came out. “Over here, Bill,” yelled Toni.