“Mrs. Debenham was lying down in her hotel room, as was Mr. Trevor Wilcox. But we have no proof of that. Angus King and Harry Tembleton were both out walking. They say they did not go into any shops, and with so many tourists about, we cannot find anyone to confirm their story. Mr. George Debenham was also out walking. The only person who was definitely up at Saint Hilarión was Mr. Lacey.” His dark eyes glittered oddly in the light from the street lamp overhead. “Do you think Mr. Lacey has any reason to be jealous?” His eyes flickered to Charles.

“No reason at all,” said Agatha firmly.

“We’ll see. Enjoy your evening. A report of the arrest has been giving to Atlantic Cars, Mr. Fraith.” He moved away, his tubby shadow bobbing before him.

“Charles, do move away from the car,” said Agatha urgently. “I’ve got to go.”

“So James is a suspect,” said Charles, sounding amused. “If you want another refuge for the night, don’t hesitate to call on me, Aggie.”

He had moved away. Agatha nipped into the car and drove away with an angry roar.

James and the rest were at a large table. Agatha saw Jackie and Bilal at another table by the window and went first to talk to them.

“Is everything all right with the villa?” asked Jackie. “If you want anything, you only have to phone.”

“Thank you,” said Agatha. They looked such a cheerful, such a sane couple, that she was almost tempted to join them and forget about the others. But she smiled and went over to where James was holding a chair out for her.

“What kept you?” he demanded.

“ Pamir found out who shied that rock.”

“Who?”

“Some kid. He’s been bragging about it, his parents heard and brought him in.”

“It just shows you,” said Olivia, “that the police have been wasting time looking in the wrong direction. It was probably one of the locals who tried to push you out of that window, Agatha, and yet we are plagued with police asking us to account for our movements.”

“Hardly likely to be a local,” said James. “They like tourists here, particularly the British, though having met some of them, God knows why. And there’s such a lot of British expats living here and more coining every year. The Turkish Cypriots are so busy blaming the mainland Turkish settlers for everything that they might wake up one morning to find they are outnumbered by elderly creaking old Brits on retirement pensions.”

“But surely the Turks are responsible for all the drugs in north Cyprus?” commented George.

“The Turkish mafia, yes,” said James, and added harshly, “with the help of a few Turkish Cypriote who have gone to the bad.”

Agatha wondered what he had done in Nicosia and what he had found out.

The manager, ümit, came up with menus. They all ordered various types of local fish. Waiters arrived with the meze, plates and plates of a bewildering array of delicacies. Bottles of wine were ordered by George. Agatha was amazed again at their capacity for alcohol, for, going by Charles’s account, they had all been drinking long before she and James had arrived in the bar at The Dome.

Agatha turned to Angus, who was on the other side of her from James. “How did you meet Rose and Trevor?” she asked.

“It was in London,” he said. “I’d just decided to sell up ma businesses and retire and take a wee trip. I’d never been south afore. I saw all the sights, you ken, Buckingham Palace, the Tower, all that stuff. But I got to feeling a wee bittie lonely. I was staying at the Hilton in Park Lane. I was in the bar three nights after I’d arrived in London.

“I saw Rose and Trevor over in the corner. I’d never been much of a ladies’ man but I couldnae take ma eyes off her. She was wearing a slinky sort of dress, but it was that laugh of hers and she kept looking over at me, as if inviting me to share the joke. I’d had a wee bit to drink, so I did what I’d never done in ma life afore. I called over the waiter and told him to give them a bottle o’ champagne. The next thing was they joined me.

“Well, it was friends from then on. For the rest of ma stay they took me round the pubs and clubs and I’d never had such a good time in ma life. So Rose says, ‘Why are you stuck up there in Glasgow? You should be down in Essex with us!’ Trevor said he could find me a wee place near to them and so I moved south. Now Rose is gone, and ah’m telling you this, Agatha, ma life is just one desert.”

A tear rolled down his old cheek.

“Why did you never marry?” asked Agatha.

“I came from poor people. I was very ambitious. I got a wee shop after working in the shipyards and saving every penny. It was just a shop selling sweeties and newspapers and things like that. But I made it work and saved everything until I was able to buy another, and then another. I ‘member when I got ma first big shop right in the middle o’ Glasgow… I did-nae have any time for romancing, and by the time I did, I was too shy to romance the ladies.”

“Sometimes your accent is very broad and sometimes almost English,” said Agatha.

“Oh, that was Rose. She said no one south could understand me and sent me to elocution lessons.”

“Didn’t think of taking any herself?”

“Rose had a beautiful voice,” said Angus, looking at Agatha in surprise.

Love is blind, thought Agatha, and deaf as well.

“What are you two talking about?” called Olivia.

“Rose,” said Agatha. “I was asking Angus how he had first met Rose and Trevor.”

“And did you tell her what great friends we all became?” demanded Trevor, seeming to rouse himself from the alcoholic stupor into which he had suddenly sunk.

“Yes, I was remembering how we had first met at the Hilton,” said Angus.

“That was Rose all right,” said Trevor. “‘Looks like a fat cat,’” she said.

“I don’t understand,” said Angus heavily.

“No? Well, my lovely Rose was the most mercenary bitch on God’s earth,” said Trevor viciously. “She liked money, so long as she never had to go out and earn it, but when it came to handing over any, she was tight-fisted. ‘Ask Angus,’ she kept saying. ‘He’s loaded.’ So I asked you, didn’t I, Angus? And you said”-here Trevor produced a terrible parody of Angus’s Scottish voice-” Ah’ve worked all ma Ufe, laddie, and stood on ma ain two feet and Rose will agree wi’ me that you should dae the same.’”

“But if Rose had any money, then you’ll inherit it,” said Agatha bluntly, and James kicked her furiously under the table.

Trevor thrust his face forwards across the table, half-rising, one hand pressing into a dish of olives. “Are you saying I killed my wife to get her money?” he shouted.

“No,” said Agatha. “Not at all. Please sit down, Trevor. It was a clumsy remark.”

Olivia stood up and went to Trevor. “There now,” she said. “No one could ever say our Agatha had any tact. Forget it, do. Have a drink.”

Trevor subsided. “I want to go home,” he said. “I feel I’ll never get home again.”

There was a long silence. Agatha could feel James’s eyes boring into the side of her face.

“Now, isn’t this food delicious?” cried Olivia brightly. “James, you said you were writing a military history. How’s it going?”

“Very slowly,” said James. “I sit down at the laptop and get out my research notes and then something will happen-the phone will ring, or I’ll decide I heard an odd noise in the kitchen that needs investigating, and by the time I return to the computer I don’t feel like doing anything.”

“Then why bother?” asked George. “You’re retired, aren’t you? Why not just say to yourself, ‘I’m never going to do this’?”

“Oh, I’ll get there in the end,” said James. “I don’t like to give up on anything.”

“Neither does Agatha,” said Olivia. “She pursued you here.”

“Can we change the subject?” said James frostily. “Here’s the fish.”

Agatha wanted to say something rude to Olivia but felt she was in such deep disgrace already that she was frightened to open her mouth. She suddenly remembered a married colleague in the public-relations business telling her that she dreaded going out on social occasions with her husband because of the post-mortem afterwards: “Why did you say that?” “Did you see so-and-so’s face when you said that?” “Couldn’t you have found something better to wear? God knows you spend enough on clothes.” And man-less Agatha had replied cheerfully, “Why don’t you stand up to him? Why don’t you tell him to go and get stuffed?”