Agatha perked up instantly. "A body?" she asked, already reaching for her handbag and checking her makeup in the hall mirror.
"He was eighty-two, Agatha," Bill said patiently. "But the clocks... they've all been stopped at exactly 10:15. Including the ones he didn't have batteries for." Agatha Raisin
Vane was led away, and the village returned to its usual state of simmering resentment and polite tea-drinking. Agatha perked up instantly
As Bill Wong stepped in to investigate the briefcase, Agatha turned to Sir Charles. "He didn't just steal it, Charles. He used one of Henderson's own clock-tuning tools to deliver a sharp blow to the neck. Very precise. Very horological." "But the clocks
The boredom was broken by a frantic knock at her door. It was Mrs. Bloxby, the vicar's wife and Agatha’s only true friend, looking uncharacteristically flustered.
"Going somewhere, Mr. Vane?" Agatha barked, blocking his path. "Just... securing my own exhibits," he stammered.
She also noted the suspicious behavior of the village's newest resident, a slick Londoner named Julian Vane, who claimed to be an "art consultant." He was currently trying to sneak out the back door with a heavy-looking briefcase.