Dishing the Dirt

“I’ll leave you to it,” said Charles lazily.

He sat on a bench by the pond and watched as Agatha entered into animated conversation with the woman. She came back and said, “That’s a bit of luck. She’s new to the village but she says if we go to the pub at the next village, Sipper Magna, we’ll find an old boy who is a fund of gossip. His name is Barney Gotobed.”

At the pub, they were told they would find Mr. Gotobed at “his” table in the garden by the cedar tree.

Agatha, who had expected to find a sort of local yokel was surprised to find an elderly, scholarly looking gentleman in a worn tweed jacket and flannels. He had thinning grey hair and bright intelligent eyes.

Introducing herself and Charles, Agatha said, “Mind if we join you and ask some questions about the Tweedys?”

“Please do,” he said. “You may call me Barney. I seem to have acquired a reputation for being the local gossip.”

They pulled up chairs and sat down. “We’re curious about the fire in which the brother died,” said Agatha. “May we get you another drink?”

“A lager would be fine.”

“Could you get it, Charles?” said Agatha. “And a gin and tonic for me.”

Charles went off reluctantly. Then he came back. “I seem to have forgotten my wallet, Agatha.”

“As usual,” grumbled Agatha, getting out her wallet and handing him a twenty-pound note.

“So what about the fire?” asked Agatha eagerly.

“Anthony and Lavender Tweedy were twins,” he began, leaning back in his chair. “Could hardly tell them apart because Lavender dressed like a man. They hated each other and lived separate lives in the same house. They had it altered, you know, so each had separate kitchens and bathrooms. Neither of them had ever had a job. The parents had been extremely wealthy; old Mr. Tweedy owned several storage unit sites and had invested cleverly. They died when the twins were at Oxford, I believe. A car crash on the M5. To everyone’s surprise, the twins chucked up their studies and returned home and there they stayed for years and years until the fire. I suppose no one thought much of it. Every village has its eccentrics. I said they didn’t work? That’s not quite true. Anthony was clever on the stock exchange and increased their wealth considerably. Somehow, much as he openly loathed his sister, they had joint accounts and shared the money.”

Charles came back with the drinks.

“And the fire?” asked Agatha.

“The pair of them were great readers and the house was like a library. I think that’s why it was such an awful blaze. It went up like a torch. Lavender was found in the garden suffering from smoke inhalation and cuts where she had smashed a window and jumped out.”

“That’s odd,” said Agatha. “Couldn’t she just have run out of the door?”

“They were both afraid of burglars and the windows were all locked and sealed. It was Anthony’s job to lock the doors at night and he kept the keys in his room. Also he kept his part of the house locked. Added to that, the pair of them considered bottle gas more economical and stored several canisters and so they all exploded. The nearest fire station is some miles away and by the time they arrived, it was too late. All that was left of Anthony, I gather, were charred remains.”

“Any suggestion that the fire had been deliberately started?” asked Agatha.

He raised his eyebrows. “Do you mean, did Lavender deliberately try to get rid of her brother?”

“Could be.”

“The insurance company did a full investigation. It was an early Georgian house and the fire was judged to be the result of an electrical fault.”

“Did you ever talk to the Tweedys?” asked Charles.

“They barely spoke to anyone. People pretty much ignored them. They became part of the village scenery.”