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But when Charles, predictably, went to the toilet as soon as the bill arrived, Freddy said, as he paid for it, “I have enjoyed this evening. I’m a bit at a loose end at the moment. What about dinner, just the two of us, on Saturday?”

Agatha glowed. “That would be lovely.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Freddy did not tell Charles of the arrangement he had made with Agatha, and Agatha did not tell him in case he volunteered to join them.

She went to bed that night wrapped in rosy dreams.

In the morning, at the office, Agatha said, “The police have talked to the parents, but see what more you can find out about this video business, Patrick, and take Phil with you. Did you see the girls?”

“No, the police chased us away.”

“Harry,” said Agatha, “you keep questioning her schoolmates. If a boy at the cyber cafe came across that Web site, then it stands to reason some of the others must have known what they were up to. Charles and I will try to track down Eddie Gibbs.”

“Who’s he?” asked Patrick.

“Some chap who left Smedleys Electronics. He evidently had every reason to hate Smedley. I know, we’ll start with Joyce. I wonder if she’s still at home.”

Joyce was. Her face was very white against the red of her hair and her hands trembled. “Come in,” she said. “The police asked dreadful things.”

“What about?” asked Agatha.

“You’ll never believe it. They wanted to know if he was keen on young girls. I was furious. Robert wasn’t like that.”

“We were wondering if you could find the address of a former employee called Eddie Gibbs.”

“Oh, I remember him. A quiet little man. Such a tragedy. His wife is in a wheelchair. I could look up the records in the office. I don’t mind. I would like to get out for a bit in case the police come back. It’s silly to go on hiding here. I’d better get back to work. I suppose Mrs. Smedley will sell the firm. Maybe the new people will keep me on. I’ll get my jacket.”

They drove her to the factory. Agatha wondered why Smedleys Electronics hadn’t bother to put in an apostrophe. Joyce shuddered a bit on the doorstep of the office.

“Fingerprint dust everywhere,” said Agatha. “I thought they used a type of light or something.”

“Do you think it’s all right to touch anything?” asked Joyce.

“Sure,” said Agatha. “The office door’s no longer taped off.”

Joyce hung up her jacket and sat down at the computer. She typed away busily and at last she said, “I’ve got it. Mr. Edward Gibbs, 78, Malvern Way.”

“Where’s Malvern Way?” asked Charles.

“It’s over at the other end of Mircester on the Evesham Road. You take the dual carriageway and turn off at the second roundabout into Cherry Walk and Malvern Way is the third on the right.”

“How do you know exactly where it is?”

“Eddie had a bit too much to drink at an office party and I drove him home.”

“Did you ever hear him having a row with Mr. Smedley?”

“Well, yes,” said Joyce awkwardly. “But Robert was very good about it. He said Eddie was all strung up because of his wife’s condition.”

They dropped Joyce back at her home and then set out to find Eddie Gibbs. “He’ll be at work, won’t he?” asked Charles.

“We’ll have a word with the wife and find out where he is. Maybe catch him on his lunch break.”

The house in Malvern Way was a small bungalow with a neat garden. Agatha rang the doorbell which played the Westminster chimes. The door opened and a woman in a wheelchair faced them. She had a long beautiful face, rather like one of the faces in a Modigliani painting.

“Yes?” she asked.

Agatha introduced them and explained they were trying to find out who had murdered Robert Smedley. She said they were anxious to speak to Mr. Gibbs.

“Why?” asked Mrs. Gibbs.

“Because he didn’t like Mr. Smedley and we thought he might give us a good picture of his character. The more you know about the murdered person, the easier it is to guess who might have wanted to kill him.”

“Well, my Eddie wouldn’t. He’s too kind and nice. But come in. He won’t be back