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flatly.
    ‘I must ask you for your movements today.’
    Agatha felt some other woman was answering all these questions. She described her day and Charles said he had been with her all afternoon and all evening. Agatha had been in full view of press and television all evening.
    ‘It looks as if there was some sort of fight. We cannot establish yet whether the blood belongs to Mr Lacey or his assailant. We will need to take your fingerprints and a blood sample, Mrs Raisin. You too, Sir Charles. Mr Lacey was heard threatening Mrs Sheppard in the village shop. He was overheard saying he could strangle her.’
    Did I ever really know James? wondered Agatha. Could he have been in love with Melissa?
    ‘Are you charging Mrs Raisin with anything?’ asked Charles.
    ‘Not at present.’
    ‘Not at present,’ jeered Charles. ‘She has an excellent alibi. She was in full view of several hundred people. Can’t you see she’s nearly dead with shock? She’s not going anywhere. Leave her alone.’
    But Agatha and Charles had to give blood samples and fingerprints and promise to report to police headquarters the following day before they were left alone.
    ‘You’d better go, Charles,’ said Agatha.
    ‘Sure? You’re not going to do anything silly?’
    Agatha shook her head. Charles would have insisted on staying had not the vicar’s wife arrived.
    ‘You poor thing,’ said Mrs Bloxby.
    ‘I can’t believe it. He has cancer and he never told me.’
    ‘He talked to me about that,’ said Mrs Bloxby.
    ‘Of course he did. He probably told the whole world!’
    ‘He said he did not want to tell you because telling you would make it real.’
    Agatha put her head in her hands. ‘What am I going to do?’
    ‘He appears to have driven off, which means he was not badly hurt. The blood in the cottage may not even be his.’
    ‘Who would attack him? James didn’t have any enemies.’
    ‘I am afraid the police are going to be concentrating on you for a bit.’
    ‘Why me?’
    ‘You’ve been heard threatening him.’
    ‘What about Melissa? God, that woman says she slept with James twice since we were married. How could James do such a thing?’
    ‘I think the fright of cancer made him behave most oddly. I’ve brought a bag. I’ll stay with you tonight.’
    ‘But I should be out there looking for him!’
    ‘Come, now. There is nothing you can do. The police will be searching everywhere. He took his car, so he’s still alive.’
    Agatha allowed herself to be led upstairs. Mrs Bloxby ran her a bath and sat on the bed until Agatha emerged from the bathroom.
    ‘Now, into bed with you,’ said the vicar’s wife. ‘I’ll only be next door. Call me if you need anything.’
    Agatha lay awake a long time, clutching the duvet, horrors racing through her mind. She began to blame herself. Somehow, if she had been a better wife, then James would have confided in her. Something told her that James had indeed lied to her, that he had slept with Melissa. Melissa had no reason to lie to the police. And James would not have gone to Melissa for comfort if she, Agatha, had treated him better. Just when she thought she would never sleep again, she plunged down into a nightmare where she was searching the lanes and woods for James, dressed in her night-gown.
    The next thing Agatha knew, Mrs Bloxby was shaking her by the shoulder and saying, ‘The police are here again, Agatha. They insist on seeing you. James’s car has been found.’
    Agatha struggled out of bed, tore her nightgown off and began to scramble into clothes. ‘And James? Have they found him?’ she asked.
    ‘No sign of him, yet.’
    Agatha went downstairs. Wilkes was there with Bill Wong and a woman police constable.
    ‘You’ve found his car,’ said Agatha. ‘Where?’
    ‘Up in the woods, just before you reach the A44,’ said Bill.
    ‘Was there any clue in the car?’
    ‘Only more blood-stains,’ said Wilkes, and Agatha groaned. ‘It does look as if he was