Dishing the Dirt

“Let’s go and ask Mrs. Bloxby.”


“It’s getting late, Agatha.”

“It’s only ten o’clock.”

“Still, leave the woman alone until tomorrow. And I gather from Phil that you’ve got to go to headquarters in the morning to sign a statement. The best thing,” said Charles, “is that you put the whole thing out of your head and we’ll watch something stupid and easy on television. Give your mind a rest.”

They watched NCIS although Agatha complained that the scriptwriters obviously had a father complex as it was yet another story with one of the characters having trouble with his father. Then they watched an old Jackie Chan movie until Charles fell asleep and Agatha took herself off to bed.

She set the alarm. She was sure she would not sleep and was surprised to be awakened in the morning by the alarm.

When she went downstairs, she found Charles awake, dressed and waiting for her. “I’ll drive you in to headquarters,” he said. “You’re liable to think of someone, shout ‘Eureka!’ and drive into a lamppost.”

At police headquarters, Charles waited while Agatha was led away to sign her statement for Bill Wong.

“That’ll be all,” said Bill. “You should take the day off, Agatha. Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You checked out the backgrounds of all the people who you knew were Jill’s clients?”

“Of course.”

“What about Mrs. Tweedy?”





Chapter Eleven

“Agatha, you need a rest,” said Bill. “You surely don’t suspect that old woman?”

“Listen to me. Bob Dell was a cross-dresser. When I wondered why he had chosen to live in a village instead of a town where there would be more of his own kind, he said, ‘I am not alone.’”

Bill laughed. “And so you immediately leap to the conclusion that Mrs. Tweedy is a murderous transvestite?”

“Humour me, Bill. What’s her story?”

“She’s from a village in Oxfordshire called Offley Crucis. She moved to Oxford and then Carsely a year ago after a tragedy.”

“What tragedy?”

“Her twin brother was killed in a fire.”

“How did the fire start?”

“Faulty electrics. Really, Agatha, we’ve gone into everyone’s background thoroughly.”

“What happened to Mr. Tweedy?”

“There isn’t one. She said she just called herself Mrs because she didn’t want to be damned as the village spinster.”

“No one talks about spinsters anymore,” said Agatha. “She may be old but she looks powerful and she’s got strong hands.”

“You’ve been working too hard, Agatha. Let it go.”

*

“Agatha,” protested Charles, “we can’t go calling on Mrs. Tweedy and accuse her of being a man.”

“I want to go to Offley Crucis where she lived, and find out about this twin brother. What if she wanted to inherit the lot and to take his identity as well?”

Charles sighed. “Can we eat first?”

“The nearest greasy spoon on the road will do.”

*

Agatha phoned her office and said she was taking the day off. Then she and Charles set out, stopping at a roadside restaurant for a full English breakfast and several cups of coffee.

Offley Crucis turned out to be a very small village at the end of a one-track road. The weather had turned fine again. There were a few redbrick houses clustered around a pond. There was a small church and a general store. Apart from a few ducks bobbing about the pond, nothing moved.

“Pity there isn’t a pub,” said Charles. “I hate the idea of knocking on doors.”

“I hope there are some people at home,” said Agatha. “It’s quite near Oxford and could be one of those sort of dormitory villages. Oh, look! That woman’s just come out into her front garden. I’ll try her.”