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“So you’ve been drinking and you’re all glammed up. What have you been up to?”

Agatha did not want to tell him about Freddy because she might lose Freddy, and that meant losing a dream and she was short on dreams.

“The ladies’ society meeting.”

Charles looked cynical. “All that for a bunch of women?”

“You’re behind the times. Women dress up for other women. Anyway, I’m feeling pretty rotten. Three murders and I still haven’t a clue about any of them. I’m due at police headquarters in the morning.”

Agatha stifled a yawn.

“You’d better go home,” said Charles. “I’ll call for you at police headquarters. What time do you think they’ll let you out?”

“Knowing the way they go on, I should think about noon. I’m due there at ten and they’ll probably keep me waiting and then grill me over and over again.”

“They can’t force you to. You’re not under arrest.”

“I’d better do it. Can’t start getting on the wrong side of the police.”

“Right,” said Charles. “I’ll be waiting for you in reception.”

Agatha drove steadily and carefully home. When she got out of the car and stood fishing her house keys out of her handbag, she suddenly stiffened. She had a feeling of being watched. She slowly turned round.

The cobbled lane was deserted. The lilac trees from which it took its name rustled in the lightest of winds.

I’m tired, that’s all, she told herself firmly. She let herself in and went up to bed. The cats followed her upstairs and stretched out on the bed. I really should stop them doing that, thought Agatha. She experienced a feeling of unease when she remembered how Freddy had cleared off. Charles would never have done that. But she needed her dreams, and by the time she fell asleep Freddy had once more been restored in her mind to the status of future husband.

* * *

The questioning was every bit as wearying as Agatha had expected it to be. Unlike previous cases, she held nothing back, feeling there was nothing to hold back, although at one point she guiltily remembered those letters Burt had written to Jessica.

It was with a feeling of relief that she found Charles waiting for her. Dear Charles. Always so loyal, thought Agatha, quite forgetting that Charles had happily dropped her in the past whenever a pretty girl came into his life.

“I’ll phone everyone and get them all into the office,” said Agatha. She took out her phone and while Charles waited, told everyone to head for the office. She rang off after the last call and said, “We need to plan some sort of strategy. Where’s your car?”

“Off to the garage with Gustav. Something up with it. I’ve been thinking of something,” said Charles.

“What?”

“Phil, despite his age, is a likeable and attractive man.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” said Agatha huffily, wondering if Charles was trying to set her up with this geriatric.

“Well, he is. And has Joyce Wilson ever met young Harry?”

“No, where’s this going?”

“Mabel knows Phil’s on the case, so it would be natural for him to call on her, maybe get close to her. She may know more about her husband’s enemies than she’s told us. Joyce hasn’t met Harry, has she?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“If he could shed some of his studs and smarten up a bit, he could maybe ask her out. Now that one, I am sure, knows something. You told me about the missing milk bottle. Before the forensic team arrived, it would be easy for Joyce to hide it somewhere and dump it afterwards.”

“Do you think she did it? I thought you had Mabel down as first murderer.”

“She is the obvious suspect.”

“What about Jessica’s murder? And Burt? Surely they’re tied up?”

“Think about it. Wouldn’t it be better to concentrate all the forces on dealing with one murder at a time? The newspapers are still putting the police under pressure over Jessica’s murder, so they’ll still be concentrating all their efforts over solving that one, and Burt’s as well.”

“All right. We’ll try it your way. I’ll tell them.”

“And no doubt take all the credit for having thought of it,” murmured Charles,