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window, well away from the bar. ‘Let’s sit over there,’ said Agatha quickly.
    ‘I’ll get you something,’ said Guy. ‘What’ll it be? I know. Let’s see if they have any champagne.’
    Agatha was about to protest, to say that she would be happy with a gin and tonic but she saw James staring across at her and smiled up at Guy and said, ‘How lovely!’
    Guy returned to the table and within a short time the landlord, John Fletcher, came over, carrying the bottle in an ice bucket. The pop of the cork was a festive sound. Several locals stopped by the table to congratulate Agatha on her speech at the village hall. James was left with the company of Mrs Darry.
    Agatha could not possibly be interested in that young man, he thought sourly. She was making a fool of herself, sitting there drinking champagne and flirting. She should remember her age! He desperately wanted to talk to her about the murder but did not know how to break the ice that he himself had caused to form.
    He talked as civilly as he could to Mrs Darry and then abruptly left the pub.
    An hour later, he heard a car drive up and stop outside Agatha’s cottage. He rushed to the little upstairs window on the landing which overlooked Agatha’s cottage. Agatha opened the car door. Guy Freemont was at the wheel. He could see that clearly because the light sprang on inside the car when Agatha opened the door. Guy put his hand on Agatha’s arm and said something. He saw Agatha smile and say something in reply. Then she went into her cottage and Guy drove off. At least he hadn’t gone in with her.
    He waited the next day expecting Agatha to call him, to suggest they investigate the murder together, but nobody called at all. He went out and bought all the newspapers. The locals had given the meeting a good show and there was even a photo of Agatha on the front page of the Cotswold Journal , but the nationals only carried small paragraphs.
    James began to feel restless and bored. He decided to investigate the murder himself.
    After several tries, he managed to get Bill Wong on the phone, and finding he was off duty that evening, offered to buy him dinner. Bill agreed. His beloved Sharon had said she had to wash her hair.
    James had chosen a Chinese restaurant, recently opened. The restaurant was quiet and the food good.
    ‘I’m fascinated by this murder,’ said James. ‘Any idea who did it?’
    ‘We’re ferreting into backgrounds at the moment, and checking up on movements. You would think that somebody might have seen that body dumped at the spring, heard a car or something, but so far we’ve drawn a blank. It’s funny, you sitting there being interested in a case. It would be quite like old times, except that you haven’t got Agatha with you.’
    ‘I assume she’s too busy with her new job,’ said James flatly.
    ‘Is that what she said?’
    ‘I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘I really don’t want to discuss Agatha. Do you think one of the members of the parish council might have done it?’
    ‘They’re all too respectable,’ mourned Bill. ‘Still, you never know. It’s amazing what you find out about people once you start digging into their past. I can’t really tell you what we’ve got so far because it’s all confidential. If you want to know anything, you’ll need to ferret around yourself, provided you don’t get under the feet of the police.’
    ‘I don’t trust that water company,’ said James. ‘I don’t like that younger one, Guy Freemont.’
    Bill’s eyes crinkled up in a smile. ‘No, you wouldn’t, would you?’
    ‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not jealous.’
    ‘If you say so.’
    ‘So who are they? Where did these Freemont brothers come from?’
    ‘They had an import-export business in Hong Kong.’
    ‘Oh, yeah? Drugs?’
    ‘No, clothes. Cheap clothes going out and more expensive clothes for the rich coming in.’
    ‘I bet they ran sweatshops.’
    ‘Sure you’re not jealous? So