patronizing tones. ‘Sir Charles or one of his minions on this estate lost their temper with her and struck her with a
spade.’
Wilkes reflected wryly that this reasoning seemed quite logical, as no one had made any attempts on Jessica’s life before her solitary ramble, or none that they yet knew of. So they
questioned Alice about Jessica, her interests, her friendships, and were left with a feeling that Alice had been jealous of Jessica and had not really liked her.
Alice said she had been at home with Gemma the previous Saturday. They had watched a video on television and had not gone out at all.
Gemma Queen, who was next, backed this alibi in a shy voice. She seemed to Wilkes to be typical of a certain type of unambitious shopgirl, the kind who should have been giggling about boyfriends
with other shop-girls and not getting tied up with the tetchy and angry ramblers. Asked about Jessica, Gemma had nothing but praise and admiration for the dead woman.
‘Did you share her militant views towards landowners?’ asked Wilkes.
‘Beg pardon?’
‘Did you dislike landowners as much as Miss Tartinck?’
‘You’ll need to ask Alice.’
‘Miss Queen! Don’t you have any views of your own?’
‘I dunno. To tell the truth, I don’t know half what they’re talking about. But Jessica was all right. Real attractive. She took me to the ballet once.’ Gemma suddenly
giggled. ‘Alice was furious.’
Wilkes decided he wasn’t going to get anything much out of Gemma that was useful. Besides, she would be interviewed again the following day. By that time they would know a lot more about
the characters in the case.
Peter Hatfield and Terry Brice appeared refreshingly gossipy in comparison to the others. Both had been working on Saturday afternoon and appeared to be the only ones with cast-iron alibis.
Although they were interviewed separately, their stories were much the same. Their motive in joining the walkers on their outings was because neither of them wanted to get ‘too fat’.
Yes, they usually took Saturday afternoon off, but this Saturday, when the restaurant was closed between three and seven, they had volunteered to stay on to set up the tables for the evening. Their
stories were so alike that Wilkes was sure they had rehearsed them carefully while waiting in the ballroom. Although the one alibied the other, it did cross his mind that one of them could have
left the restaurant, gone out to the estate in a car, murdered Jessica, and returned.
After them, he turned to Bill Wong, stretched and yawned, and said, ‘Now, for Gustav.’
But there was an interruption. A policeman who had been on guard outside the house came in and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but one of the farm labourers is here. I think you should listen to
him. His name is Noakes, Joe Noakes.’
‘Send him in.’
A large, burly man with a bad-tempered-looking face came in. He said he was Joseph Noakes and worked on the home farm for Mr Dyke, who ran it for the estate.
‘And what have you got to tell us?’
‘I seen Sir Charles and that dead woman.’
Wilkes tensed.
‘Go on. When?’
‘Last Satterday, it were. Her was scraping and jumping her way across the rape field. Sir Charles met her.’
‘Where? Which part of the field? The middle, where the body was found?’
‘No, t’war a bit towards the far side o’ the field from the house.’
‘Could you hear what he was saying?’
‘No, I war over in t’other field. But he was waving his fists at her. Then he turned away and walked back towards the house.’
‘And she was still alive?’
‘Yerse,’ admitted Mr Noakes with obvious reluctance.
‘And then what happened?’
‘I went away, didn’t I, and saw nothing else.’
‘Wait outside,’ said Wilkes. ‘We’ll be taking you down to the station.’
When the door closed, he turned to Bill Wong.
‘And we’ll be taking Sir Charles as well. I think we’ve found our murderer.’
Chapter Four
Agatha
spade.’
Wilkes reflected wryly that this reasoning seemed quite logical, as no one had made any attempts on Jessica’s life before her solitary ramble, or none that they yet knew of. So they
questioned Alice about Jessica, her interests, her friendships, and were left with a feeling that Alice had been jealous of Jessica and had not really liked her.
Alice said she had been at home with Gemma the previous Saturday. They had watched a video on television and had not gone out at all.
Gemma Queen, who was next, backed this alibi in a shy voice. She seemed to Wilkes to be typical of a certain type of unambitious shopgirl, the kind who should have been giggling about boyfriends
with other shop-girls and not getting tied up with the tetchy and angry ramblers. Asked about Jessica, Gemma had nothing but praise and admiration for the dead woman.
‘Did you share her militant views towards landowners?’ asked Wilkes.
‘Beg pardon?’
‘Did you dislike landowners as much as Miss Tartinck?’
‘You’ll need to ask Alice.’
‘Miss Queen! Don’t you have any views of your own?’
‘I dunno. To tell the truth, I don’t know half what they’re talking about. But Jessica was all right. Real attractive. She took me to the ballet once.’ Gemma suddenly
giggled. ‘Alice was furious.’
Wilkes decided he wasn’t going to get anything much out of Gemma that was useful. Besides, she would be interviewed again the following day. By that time they would know a lot more about
the characters in the case.
Peter Hatfield and Terry Brice appeared refreshingly gossipy in comparison to the others. Both had been working on Saturday afternoon and appeared to be the only ones with cast-iron alibis.
Although they were interviewed separately, their stories were much the same. Their motive in joining the walkers on their outings was because neither of them wanted to get ‘too fat’.
Yes, they usually took Saturday afternoon off, but this Saturday, when the restaurant was closed between three and seven, they had volunteered to stay on to set up the tables for the evening. Their
stories were so alike that Wilkes was sure they had rehearsed them carefully while waiting in the ballroom. Although the one alibied the other, it did cross his mind that one of them could have
left the restaurant, gone out to the estate in a car, murdered Jessica, and returned.
After them, he turned to Bill Wong, stretched and yawned, and said, ‘Now, for Gustav.’
But there was an interruption. A policeman who had been on guard outside the house came in and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, but one of the farm labourers is here. I think you should listen to
him. His name is Noakes, Joe Noakes.’
‘Send him in.’
A large, burly man with a bad-tempered-looking face came in. He said he was Joseph Noakes and worked on the home farm for Mr Dyke, who ran it for the estate.
‘And what have you got to tell us?’
‘I seen Sir Charles and that dead woman.’
Wilkes tensed.
‘Go on. When?’
‘Last Satterday, it were. Her was scraping and jumping her way across the rape field. Sir Charles met her.’
‘Where? Which part of the field? The middle, where the body was found?’
‘No, t’war a bit towards the far side o’ the field from the house.’
‘Could you hear what he was saying?’
‘No, I war over in t’other field. But he was waving his fists at her. Then he turned away and walked back towards the house.’
‘And she was still alive?’
‘Yerse,’ admitted Mr Noakes with obvious reluctance.
‘And then what happened?’
‘I went away, didn’t I, and saw nothing else.’
‘Wait outside,’ said Wilkes. ‘We’ll be taking you down to the station.’
When the door closed, he turned to Bill Wong.
‘And we’ll be taking Sir Charles as well. I think we’ve found our murderer.’
Chapter Four
Agatha
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