Agatha Raisin: Hiss and Hers (15 page)

When they had driven Bill home, Agatha said, ‘Do you think the Frasers did the murders?'

‘I can't really believe it,' said Toni. ‘I think Wilkes is being too premature. A defence lawyer can rip holes in the case. Unless their fingerprints were on the snake books, the rest is all just supposition.'

‘But the prosecutor can build up something. Tim Fraser did work, however briefly, on a snake farm. The books were hidden in their garden along with the profits from their illegal cannabis farm. I think if they wanted George out of the way, they'd simply have struck him down with a hammer or something. I don't believe they have it in them to plan the elaborate murder of George.'

‘Do you think George's sister, Janet, will consider the case closed?' asked Toni.

‘I'm going to the office. I'll phone her from there.'

But when Agatha phoned Janet Ilston, it was to find that Wilkes had already informed her of the arrest. She listened to Agatha's doubts, and then said crisply, ‘It is my opinion that the police solved the murder of my poor brother and not you. I am terminating my contract.'

‘And that's that,' said Agatha gloomily when Janet had rung off. ‘Can't afford to work for nothing in the middle of a recession. Let's start clearing up some of the other cases.'

Agatha watched Wilkes on television that evening. She had hoped he might say the police were holding three people for further enquiries, but Wilkes said clearly that Timothy Fraser, his wife, Matilda, and his son Wayne had been charged with murder.

The doorbell rang. Agatha opened the door and found Charles standing there.

‘Come in,' she said glumly.

‘What's up?' asked Charles. ‘I thought you would be pleased the whole thing was over.'

‘Pour yourself a drink, sit down, and I'll tell you about it.'

Charles listened carefully. When Agatha had finished, he said, ‘I don't see that you have a case, Agatha. It's too far-fetched to suggest that some mysterious killer decided to frame them by burying the snake books in their stash. Why would someone ever imagine that the police would look there?'

‘Maybe it was a sort of insurance,' said Agatha stubbornly. ‘Maybe whoever thought that if there was any sign the police were getting close, then an anonymous call would tip the police off. And what about the snakes sent to me? I wasn't anywhere near the Frasers.'

‘But surely it was all round the village that you were detecting. Maybe the Frasers just wanted you out of the way.'

‘Anyway,' said Agatha, ‘what have you been doing with yourself?'

‘Thinking of getting married.'

‘You! Who to?'

‘Petronella Harvey-Booth.'

‘Who's she?' asked Agatha jealously.

‘Young, pretty and rich. If she says yes, I'll consider myself a very lucky man.'

‘Got a photo?'

Charles fished out his wallet and took out a photograph. ‘You must admit, Pet's quite attractive.'

‘You call her Pet?'

‘Well, Petronella's quite a mouthful.'

The photograph showed a tall, slim girl with long brown hair, a long face, long nose and a small mouth.

‘And what has Gustav to say to your proposed marriage?'

Gustav was Charles's valet-cum-butler. ‘He thinks it's highly suitable.'

‘At least I won't have you dropping in here unexpectedly,' said Agatha.

Charles smiled. ‘Will you miss me?'

Like hell, thought Agatha, feeling bereft.

‘I'll get used to it,' she said airily.

‘About these murders, have you talked to Mrs Bloxby lately?'

‘Why?'

‘Some little thing might have been happening in this village. What about Mr Freemantle, for example? A wife beater, and he might have dropped that adder down Simon's neck. Let's go and visit her anyway.'

‘Don't you want to rush back to Pet?' asked Agatha.

‘She's visiting her family in Devon at the moment.'

‘If she lives in Devon, how did you meet her?'

‘She was staying with friends in Warwickshire. I met her at a party. I felt as though I had known her for ages.'

Nobody wants me, thought Agatha. Men want frumpy women or girls who look like stick insects. I bet Pet's got hair extensions. I hope she has. People are warning against them, saying they cause baldness.

‘I suppose we'd better call at the vicarage and find out if Mrs Bloxby has heard anything.'

* * *

The vicar answered the door to them, and, to Agatha's amazement, gave her a warm welcome.

‘Come in, Mrs Raisin,' he said with a beaming smile. ‘It's always a pleasure to see you.'

Agatha was not to know that the vicar was plagued with memories of that voice calling him arrogant. He had even preached a sermon on Sunday warning against the dangers of false pride. He could not quite believe his wife's explanation that someone was probably hiding behind a tombstone. The voice had seemed to come up from the grave.

Mrs Bloxby met them in the sitting room and suggested they should sit in the garden while her husband went off to his study.

‘We were wondering whether you had heard anything,' said Agatha. ‘I mean, perhaps one of the Freemantles' neighbours saw Simon under that tree.'

‘I haven't heard anything,' said Mrs Bloxby, ‘except that Fred Glossop has left again.'

‘I wonder why he came back,' said Agatha. ‘They are separated, aren't they?'

‘I believe Mrs Glossop was frightened by the murders and sent for him.'

‘Where does he work?'

‘He's a computer engineer, working for some Oxford-shire firm.'

‘Why did they never get a divorce?'

‘According to the village gossip, it was an amicable separation.'

‘I don't believe in amicable separations,' said Charles cynically.

‘Perhaps I'll go and see her,' said Agatha. ‘She might feel like talking a bit more without Fred around.'

There was a notable change in Harriet Glossop's appearance. Her face was pale and she had lost weight. ‘Oh, it's you,' she said in a flat voice. ‘And who is this man?'

‘This is Sir Charles Fraith,' said Agatha, hoping to impress with Charles's title.

‘I suppose you'd better come in. We'll sit in the garden.'

‘Your flowers could do with watering,' commented Charles. Withered petals lay on the brown lawn.

‘I've lost interest,' said Harriet. ‘It's too hot. George was cheap compared to the prices gardeners around here are charging.'

‘We wondered if you could help us with something,' said Agatha. ‘My colleague Simon Black was sitting outside Jessica Fordyce's cottage under a tree when he was attacked. Did you see or hear anything? A car driving along the road? Anything like that?'

‘No. Look, I don't know anything and what's more I don't want to know anything. I heard on the radio that those awful Frasers have been arrested, so why are you still poking around?'

‘Because I can't quite believe they did it,' said Agatha.

‘And you know better than the whole police force?'

‘I have this intuition . . .'

‘Spare me,' snapped Harriet. ‘There's a woman in Mircester who reads tarot cards. Why don't you try her? You should both be on the same wavelength.'

‘If you're determined not to help—' began Agatha.

‘Look, I don't know a thing and I wish you'd just leave . . . now!'

They had walked to Sarah's cottage. As they strolled along the road, Joyce Hemingway came towards them.

‘If it isn't the great detective,' she sneered. ‘Trumped by the police.'

‘It was me who suggested there was something fishy about the rockery in their garden,' said Agatha.

‘Anyway, the police have closed the murder cases,' said Joyce.

‘I don't believe they did it,' said Agatha. ‘And I've just found out something that might blow the whole case open again.'

‘What!' demanded Joyce shrilly.

Agatha smiled. ‘Now, wouldn't you just like to know. You were overheard threatening George, for starters. Come along, Charles.'

‘What on earth made you say that?' said Charles when they were out of earshot.

‘I just felt like stirring the pond and seeing what rises out of the muck. I haven't the resources of the police, so I usually just blunder about until something breaks.'

‘Let's hope it isn't you,' said Charles.

James Lacey had just returned from his travels the next morning and was unpacking his suitcase when his doorbell rang.

He wondered whether to answer it. Newcomers to the village quickly found out he was an eligible man and since a good few of the newcomers were either divorcées or widows, some of them kept calling around with offers of cakes and jam when they knew he was at home.

Then he thought it might be Agatha. He had followed the murders in the newspapers and was anxious to hear what she thought about the arrest of the Frasers.

He left his bedroom, went downstairs and opened the door. A tall, thin woman stood there. She held out her hand. ‘I am Petronella Harvey-Booth.'

‘I don't know you,' said James impatiently.

‘Of course you don't. I am shortly to become engaged to Charles Fraith.'

‘You'd better come in,' said James, suddenly curious.

She perched herself on the edge of James's well-worn sofa. Not much of a looker, thought James. James thought she looked like a face in a medieval canvas, with her long nose and long straight hair and small mouth. Knowing Charles's liking for money, she must be very rich.

‘So what's your engagement got to do with me?' asked James.

‘I want to know why he spends so much time with your ex-wife. You see, Daddy told me to always be careful because we have a lot of money. So he hired a private detective.'

James grinned. ‘There's a turn-up for the book. Agatha being stalked by a private detective.'

‘It seems Charles often spends the night at her cottage and he sometimes just lets himself in. I don't want to marry a man who has a mistress.'

‘I can assure you, they are just friends. Let's go next door and see if they are there. It will reassure you once you've met Agatha.'

Agatha had just returned with Charles. She answered the door. ‘Oh, James, you're back,' she said. ‘Who is this? Oh, I know. Charles showed me a photograph of you. Please come in. Charles is in the garden.'

Charles rose to his feet and stared in surprise at Petronella. ‘Why, Pet! What are you doing here? Do sit down.'

‘I came to find out what you were doing here,' said Pet, sitting on the edge of a garden chair and clutching a capacious handbag on her lap.

‘Agatha's an old friend.'

‘I can see the old bit,' said Pet waspishly. ‘It's the friendship I'm talking about.'

‘Bitch, bitch, bitch,' muttered Agatha.

‘You stay overnight with her,' said Pet. ‘When you told her you were going to marry me, you described me as rich and then went on to ask if she would miss you.'

There was a shocked silence. Charles found his voice first.

‘That was a private conversation I had with Agatha just a short time ago.'

Agatha suddenly snatched Pet's handbag, opened it and dumped the contents on the garden table, shoving Pet away as Pet tried to stop her.

Inside, she recognized a listening device like the one Simon had.

‘You've been spying on me,' howled Agatha. ‘This listening device is illegal and I am going to call the police.'

She took her mobile phone out of her pocket.

‘Don't,' said Charles. ‘I want an explanation.'

Pet burst into tears.

James said, ‘I may as well tell you. Evidently Pet's papa has employed a private detective. He no doubt supplied Pet with the listening device. Anyway, that's what she told me before I brought her here.'

‘Daddy said I had to be careful,' said Pet. ‘He said you might just be after me for my money. Please don't call the police.'

‘What agency?' demanded Agatha.

‘Timmons.'

Timmons was a new agency and Agatha had recently lost a couple of clients to them.

‘I could do without the scandal,' said Charles quietly.

‘It's getting late,' said Agatha. ‘Leave the listening device with me and I'll go and see them tomorrow. If you do not want me to go to the police, Miss Harvey-Booth, then I want a signed statement from you about how your father hired the agency and how they gave you the listening device. I also want the name of the detective assigned to your case.'

‘I c-can't.'

‘If you don't, I shall phone the police and then the newspapers,' said Agatha.

‘Charles!' wailed Pet.

‘Sorry,' he said. ‘I suggest you do just what Agatha says. Then you can go home and tell that father of yours that I am definitely not going to marry you.'

‘You're all horrid!' shouted Pet.

‘Not as horrid as you,' said Agatha.

As Agatha made her way to the Timmons detective agency in Mircester the following morning, she worried about Charles. He usually didn't betray any emotion at all, but he had been unnaturally quiet, saying only after Pet had signed the statement and left that he wanted to go home.

James had left as well to do his unpacking, after Agatha had asked him if he would like to come to Timmons with her in the morning. James had replied that he found the whole situation disgusting and that he had work to do.

A cool blonde receptionist told Agatha to wait and Mr Timmons would see her shortly. Agatha looked sourly around the reception area of her rival as she sank down into a black leather sofa. Glossy magazines decorated the coffee table in front of her. Abstract paintings hung on the cream walls.

Her own agency consisted of one large room with a secretary, Mrs Freedman, at a desk by the window. Clients just walked in. Simon, Toni, Phil and Patrick as well as herself all had separate desks. No pictures decorated the walls, only press cuttings of the agency's successes. I never, ever thought of remodelling it, thought Agatha. It's like my kitchen. No fashionable granite surfaces or copper pans, just the same white-painted cupboards that had been there when she bought the cottage. One square wooden table with four upright chairs surrounding it dominated the middle of the kitchen.