again.’
‘Who’s Eddie?’ asked Agatha.
‘He’s the one before last,’ said Miss Simms. ‘Ever so nice. In bathroom fittings in Cheltenham. His wife’s left him. Not because of me. They never find out about me. I’m not a tart, like some I could mention. No, she left him for a man in surgical goods.’
After they had deposited Miss Simms at her home, Agatha and Charles sat in the kitchen of Agatha’s cottage and mulled over the little information they had. ‘You know what hurts?’ said Agatha. ‘It’s just that the more we find out about Melissa, the more horrible it seems that James had anything to do with her.’
‘I think men under sentence of death will do things they might not otherwise have contemplated. Then James was always a violently jealous man.’
‘James!’
‘Yes, James.’
‘I never really thought of him as being jealous,’ said Agatha. ‘I was always so violently jealous myself.’
‘Agatha admits to a fault! Goodness me.’
‘Never mind that. What about this business of Melissa saying she had a lover who was a drug dealer?’
‘That was sharp of you to guess about drugs. What put you on to that?’
‘Just a wild guess. And all this nonsense of Miss Simms about rough trade. I mean, she’s very genteel. I thought it would be a real dive, but it seemed a respectable Piccadilly disco. It wasn’t even a singles’ bar either. What took Melissa there?’
‘Sex?’
‘I don’t know. I’m beginning to think she was a real murderee. I mean, those lads could have turned out to be dangerous. Anyway, to get back to the drug-dealer lover. If only that would turn out to be true. It would supply a motive.’
‘I can’t believe in this drug dealer. If Melissa coerced Miss Simms into going up to London with her, maybe she got friendly with someone else in the village.’
‘She probably mistakenly picked on Miss Simms,’ said Agatha bitterly, ‘because she thought her morals were as loose as her own. No one else in the village fills that bill.’
‘There might be someone. I mean, on the face of it, Melissa was just the perfect village housewife, apart from her fling with James. You know, Aggie, we can’t keep leaving James out of the equation.’
‘He didn’t do it!’
‘But he got involved in something that meant he was attacked and probably by the same person who killed Melissa.’
‘That might bring us back to the husbands. We never really got to talk to Mr Dewey properly.’
‘Let’s leave him alone for a bit,’ pleaded Charles. ‘Gosh, I’m tired. Mind if I stay the night?’
‘You know where the spare room is.’
‘I’ll get my bag out of the car.’
Agatha watched him go, half amused, half exasperated. In the past, Charles had sometimes moved in with her. It was always because he was bored, or because the elderly aunt who lived with him had decided to hold a charity party and he wanted to stay out of the way until it was over. She knew that if Charles was courting some girl – for he was ever hopeful of getting married – he would disappear from her life for months. The fact that he never managed to secure any sort of lasting relationship Agatha put down to his being tight with money. Then, people who were tight with money were also inclined to be tight with emotions. Not much giving, emotionally or physically.
‘What are you brooding about?’
Agatha started. She had been so immersed in her thoughts, she had not heard Charles coming back into the kitchen.
‘You,’ said Agatha.
He sat down and looked at her, amused. ‘What about me?’
‘I was wondering why you never had a permanent girlfriend.’
‘And what do you think is the reason?’
‘I think it’s because you’re mean about money. What woman is going to put up with someone who takes her out for dinner and forgets his wallet, or, in your case, pretends to forget it?’
‘What a funny woman you are. That reminds me. You owe me half of that fifty quid.’
The next morning
‘Who’s Eddie?’ asked Agatha.
‘He’s the one before last,’ said Miss Simms. ‘Ever so nice. In bathroom fittings in Cheltenham. His wife’s left him. Not because of me. They never find out about me. I’m not a tart, like some I could mention. No, she left him for a man in surgical goods.’
After they had deposited Miss Simms at her home, Agatha and Charles sat in the kitchen of Agatha’s cottage and mulled over the little information they had. ‘You know what hurts?’ said Agatha. ‘It’s just that the more we find out about Melissa, the more horrible it seems that James had anything to do with her.’
‘I think men under sentence of death will do things they might not otherwise have contemplated. Then James was always a violently jealous man.’
‘James!’
‘Yes, James.’
‘I never really thought of him as being jealous,’ said Agatha. ‘I was always so violently jealous myself.’
‘Agatha admits to a fault! Goodness me.’
‘Never mind that. What about this business of Melissa saying she had a lover who was a drug dealer?’
‘That was sharp of you to guess about drugs. What put you on to that?’
‘Just a wild guess. And all this nonsense of Miss Simms about rough trade. I mean, she’s very genteel. I thought it would be a real dive, but it seemed a respectable Piccadilly disco. It wasn’t even a singles’ bar either. What took Melissa there?’
‘Sex?’
‘I don’t know. I’m beginning to think she was a real murderee. I mean, those lads could have turned out to be dangerous. Anyway, to get back to the drug-dealer lover. If only that would turn out to be true. It would supply a motive.’
‘I can’t believe in this drug dealer. If Melissa coerced Miss Simms into going up to London with her, maybe she got friendly with someone else in the village.’
‘She probably mistakenly picked on Miss Simms,’ said Agatha bitterly, ‘because she thought her morals were as loose as her own. No one else in the village fills that bill.’
‘There might be someone. I mean, on the face of it, Melissa was just the perfect village housewife, apart from her fling with James. You know, Aggie, we can’t keep leaving James out of the equation.’
‘He didn’t do it!’
‘But he got involved in something that meant he was attacked and probably by the same person who killed Melissa.’
‘That might bring us back to the husbands. We never really got to talk to Mr Dewey properly.’
‘Let’s leave him alone for a bit,’ pleaded Charles. ‘Gosh, I’m tired. Mind if I stay the night?’
‘You know where the spare room is.’
‘I’ll get my bag out of the car.’
Agatha watched him go, half amused, half exasperated. In the past, Charles had sometimes moved in with her. It was always because he was bored, or because the elderly aunt who lived with him had decided to hold a charity party and he wanted to stay out of the way until it was over. She knew that if Charles was courting some girl – for he was ever hopeful of getting married – he would disappear from her life for months. The fact that he never managed to secure any sort of lasting relationship Agatha put down to his being tight with money. Then, people who were tight with money were also inclined to be tight with emotions. Not much giving, emotionally or physically.
‘What are you brooding about?’
Agatha started. She had been so immersed in her thoughts, she had not heard Charles coming back into the kitchen.
‘You,’ said Agatha.
He sat down and looked at her, amused. ‘What about me?’
‘I was wondering why you never had a permanent girlfriend.’
‘And what do you think is the reason?’
‘I think it’s because you’re mean about money. What woman is going to put up with someone who takes her out for dinner and forgets his wallet, or, in your case, pretends to forget it?’
‘What a funny woman you are. That reminds me. You owe me half of that fifty quid.’
The next morning
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