Free Agatha Raisin and the Busy Body by MC Beaton

Courtney looks suspicious,’ said Roy. ‘I mean, the motive is usually money, isn’t it?’
    ‘The first thing we thought of, but, like I said, his alibi checks out. And the sister is vouched for by her friend.’
    ‘It’s a pity,’ mused Agatha, ‘that it couldn’t be either the son or daughter. I mean, how convenient to already have a murder in the village. The police were bound
to think both murders were connected.’
    ‘We still do,’ said Bill. ‘You’re right, though: the murder of Miriam appears to have been carefully planned. Someone passing the manor saw the lights go out and then the
flickering light of a candle, as if Miriam was going down the stairs to look at the fuse box. The fire was started because when she was struck down, the candle she might have been holding ended up
in a pan of fat.’
    ‘Can they tell all that? The house was a blazing inferno. I didn’t think there would be any evidence left.’
    ‘They traced the source of the fire to the stove, analysed the remains of the pan and found evidence of candle grease. The fuse box was nearly intact, being protected by a heavy metal
cover. The electricity had definitely been switched off.’
    ‘Who was it who was just passing so late at night?’
    ‘Carrie Brother.’
    ‘And what’s her reason for being out so late?’
    ‘She said her little doggie needed to go pee-pee, to quote her words.’
    ‘I think she’s barmy,’ said Agatha.
    Bill shook his head. ‘A bit eccentric, that’s all. Is it any use, Agatha, telling you yet again to keep out of it?’
    ‘Not in the slightest. I’m employed by Tom Courtney and I need the money.’
    ‘Do you know anything about Bulgarians in London?’ asked Roy.
    ‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Agatha. ‘We’ve got to rush. Come along, Roy.’
    Roy quailed before the gimlet gleam in Agatha’s bearlike eyes. ‘What Bulgarians?’ asked Bill as Agatha hustled Roy out of the house.
    ‘Never mind,’ Agatha called back.
    Back in Carsely, Roy wandered around the cottage moodily while Agatha composed an anonymous letter to the police. Finally she popped the letter in an envelope. ‘I’d
better not mail this here,’ she muttered. ‘If they see a Carsely postmark, they’ll track me down. Roy!’ she called.
    ‘What is it?’ he asked nervously.
    ‘I want you to mail this in London. I’ll put it in a bigger envelope so you don’t get your fingerprints on it. Just take it out and pop it in a pillar-box.’ She stripped
off her gloves and then noticed the look of relief in Roy’s eyes. ‘And don’t think you can tear it up and chuck it away when you get to London. If I don’t see anything in
the news about a raid, I’ll know you’ve weaselled out. It’s for your own good! Now, I would like to have dinner with Tom on my own this evening. I think he rather fancies me and I
may get more out of him. He might remember something about his mother that he hasn’t told me.’
    ‘He doesn’t fancy you a bit,’ said Roy crossly. ‘I’m your friend. You should be looking after me.’
    ‘Roy, it’s work. We’re in the middle of a recession and I need this job.’
    ‘Oh, all right,’ said Roy. ‘I’ll maybe go to the pub.’
    That evening, after Agatha had departed in a wave of French perfume, Roy, restless, decided to drive over to Odley Cruesis. He fancied himself as a detective. Maybe if he found
out something significant, Agatha would offer him a job and he could escape the PR business.
    He drove off through the leafy lanes with the car window open, breathing in the scents of the country evening. He noticed there were lights on in the church hall, a square building next to the
old Norman church. Roy parked the car and went into the hall. A bingo session was underway. Villagers were crouched over their cards while Penelope Timson read out the numbers in a high
strangulated voice.
    Roy took a seat at the back of the hall. When Penelope finally called a break for refreshment and