hey found Peter Hobbs under his car - an old green car. He got up slowly. He wore old blue trousers and a dirty orange shirt.

'We want to talk about Mrs Clarkson,' Inspector Walsh said.

'Oh, it's about her,' Peter said. He looked at the Inspector. 'I know she's dead. Someone in the village told me.'

'Why did you go to the Clarksons' house last night?'

'Jackie wanted me to come and see her brother, Roger. "You're angry," she said. "Come and tell Roger." I went to the house but nobody opened the door. So I made a lot of noise and then they opened the door. Old Mrs Clarkson wasn't there. But I told Roger. I told them all!' Peter hit the car with his hand. 'I wanted to kill that woman. I lost my job, my first job, because of her. Last month I was in trouble with the police and that old woman wrote to my office and she told them about the police. I wanted to kill her!'

'Take it easy!' Inspector Walsh said. 'What happened next?'

'Jackie gave me some coffee, but her brother didn't listen to me,' Peter said angrily. 'Then Tom Briggs came in.

He wanted to talk to Roger, too. But Roger didn't listen to him. Jackie was very unhappy - she nearly cried. Then I went home. That's all.'

'I see. Now tell me about the tablets. You went to the village on Thursday?'

'Tablets? Oh, yes. I remember. Jackie wanted me to get her mother's tablets from the village. I go to the village on my bicycle - this car doesn't work.'

'Thank you, Peter. That's all.'

'That's all?' Peter laughed angrily. 'You're going to come back, I know that! I know the police!'

Tom Briggs' farm was about half a mile away, near the river. It was not a big farm, and the house was old and dirty.

'Not much money here,' Inspector Walsh said.

Tom Briggs was a young man, about thirty years old, with dirty hands and bad teeth. 'What's wrong? Excuse me, I'm eating my dinner,' he said.

'We can wait. Finish your dinner,' Inspector Walsh said. 'We want to ask one or two questions about last night.'

'Come and wait in the front room,' Tom said and opened the door.

Inspector Walsh looked at the things in the front room. There was an old black and white television, and some books on the table. There was a picture of a happy young girl with long brown hair on the table, too. Inspector Walsh looked at the picture for a long time. Who was the girl?

Tom Briggs came back into the front room.

'Finished?' Inspector Walsh asked. 'You know Mrs Clarkson is dead?'

Tom Briggs sat down suddenly on the nearest chair. 'What? How did she die? When did it happen? I was there last night.'

'She died last night or early this morning. What did you do last night?'

'Me? Why are you asking me? I went there to meet Mr Clarkson - Roger. I'm losing money on this farm and I need more land. I want half Mrs Clarkson's garden.'

'You went into the kitchen. What did you do next? Can you remember?'

Tom Briggs looked at Sergeant Foster and then back at Inspector Walsh. 'I remember it very well. All the family were in the kitchen. Peter Hobbs was there, too. I talked to Roger. He wants his mother to sell the house. But he wants the land. He doesn't want me to have it. But now Mrs Clarkson is dead. What's going to happen now?'

Inspector Walsh got up and took the picture of the girl from the table. 'Who's this?'

Tom's face went red. 'Who? Oh! That's a friend. It's not... It was a long time ago.'

The two detectives walked back to the Clarksons' house through the garden. It was beautiful, green and quiet. Inspector Walsh felt tired and hungry. Who killed Molly? He knew the answer now, but he needed to ask one or two more questions.

'Let's go, Sergeant,' he said, and put on his hat again. 'Tomorrow is a new day.'