The Blood of an Englishman (8 page)

“Very well,” said Wilkes. “But stay there until I join you.”

*   *   *

“You should really have hot sweet tea,” admonished James as Agatha clutched a large gin and tonic.

“Hate the stuff,” said Agatha, taking a gulp of her drink.

James described what they had seen while Alice recorded his statement on tape and also wrote it down in her notebook.

When it was Agatha's turn, she felt it was like describing a nightmare.

“Do you think that was the sword from the theatre?” asked Alice.

“I don't know,” said Agatha. “There's some awful hate-filled person around. To play that music!”

At last Wilkes and Bill joined them. “The forensic team are going over everything,” said Wilkes.

“Did you find the rest of the body?” asked Agatha.

“It was in the corner of his living room behind the sofa. It looks as if someone sliced his head off while he was asleep. What is even more horrible, is that there was a CD of the executioner's chorus. Someone had programmed it to play over and over again. You will now need to go with Peterson to police headquarters and wait until your statements are prepared and then sign them.”

*   *   *

On the road to Mircester, James suddenly swung into a lay-by and stopped the car.

“Agatha, I want you to drop this case,” he said.

“I've never dropped a case yet,” said Agatha. “Why?”

“Because this mad murderer might come after you.”

“James,” said Agatha wearily, “I will put it on hold. By tomorrow or even later today, the village of Winter Parva will be thick with the media and tomorrow, the world's media will join them. There will be squads of police going from door to door. I won't be able to get near anyone.”

“I really do wish you would drop it.”

“No and no. Drive on.”

*   *   *

After they were finished signing their statements, James left Agatha at her office. She waited until her small staff had all come back, complaining about the difficulty of getting anywhere through the snow.

Agatha told them about the latest gruesome murder. “I had better phone Gareth Craven,” she said finally. “I won't be able to proceed with any investigation while the village is flooded with police, rubber-neckers and the whole of the world's media. You can all go home. We'll do what we can tomorrow. This snow can't last forever.”

After they had all left, Agatha phoned Gareth Craven. He sounded frantic. “I can't take much more of this. Haven't you the slightest idea who is doing this?”

“Not yet. But I will, I promise you,” said Agatha with a confidence she did not feel. “I will be back on the job once the press hysteria cools. I called on you before I found George but you weren't at home.”

“I was out at an old neighbour's shovelling snow.”

“I tried your mobile.”

Gareth gave a shaky laugh. “I'd left it at home. What is this? Am I a suspect?”

“No,” said Agatha quickly. “I just wondered if you had seen anything or heard anything.”

“I wish I had. I must try to see Gwen. This is awful for her.”

“Let me know what she or anyone else says,” said Agatha.

She had just put down the phone when it rang. It was John Hale. Agatha's heart gave a lurch.

“This is awful, horrible,” said John. “I'm in Mircester. May I call on you?”

“Yes, of course,” said Agatha. “But aren't you on stage tonight?”

“We were going to perform as usual but the police said the theatre must be closed down. Be with you in a few minutes. I'll tell you all about it.”

After she had rung off, Agatha slid out the bottom drawer of her desk and took out a magnifying mirror and a bag of make-up. She cleaned off her old make-up and put on a fresh layer and then brushed her hair until it crackled with electricity. Her black cashmere sweater was all right, she decided, as were her black tapered trousers, but she was wearing flat-soled boots, and, without heels on, Agatha felt demoralised.

As she waited for John, Agatha began to wonder uneasily about him. Why had he allowed George to take his place?

But when John walked in, Agatha surveyed all that masculine beauty and forgot about her doubts.

“Do sit down,” she said. “Have the police been questioning you?”

“Over and over again,” said John.

“Why at the theatre?”

“Evidently it was the executioner's sword that killed George.”

“But these stage swords are surely made of wood,” said Agatha.

“This one was steel. It had been made razor sharp.”

“How does Blain explain the sharp sword?”

“He said it was as dull as anything during rehearsals,” said John.

“I wonder if the blacksmith sharpened it,” said Agatha.

“I'm sure the police will think of that. I owe you dinner.”

Agatha's phone rang. “I'd better answer that in case it's the police again.”

But it was Mrs. Bloxby. “Such awful weather,” said the vicar's wife. “But the farmers have cleared the road down to the village and the A44 has been salted and gritted. I left a lamb casserole on your doorstep. All you need to do is heat it up.”

Agatha thanked her and turned to John. “That was my friend, Mrs. Bloxby. She's left one of her famous lamb casseroles for me. Why don't you come back with me and we'll have dinner at my place?”

“I'd love to, but I don't have snow tyres,” said John.

“I do,” said Agatha, her mind full of romance. “I'll run you to Carsely and then take you home.”

*   *   *

Agatha's head was crowded with dreams as she drove home. She would suggest he stay the night … and then … and then …

The casserole was on the doorstep under a wooden box. Agatha carried it in, lit the oven and put it in.

James, who had been worried about her, had seen her arrival from his window. He phoned Charles.

“Agatha has just arrived home with an exceptionally handsome man. Do you know who he is?”

“Haven't a clue,” said Charles. “I may run over and join the party. Maybe later.”

*   *   *

Agatha and John had a pleasant dinner. Agatha had found a good bottle of wine and then produced a bottle of brandy. John seemed to enjoy chatting about the school and Agatha loved watching his face.

Then he said, “We've been drinking rather a lot. Do you think you can really drive me home?”

“Why not stay the night?” said Agatha. “I have a spare room.”

He smiled. “I am rather tired.”

“I can take you back in the morning.”

*   *   *

Bustling about in a housewifely way, quite unlike her usual behaviour, Agatha found him clean towels and one of Charles's dressing gowns he had left behind on his last visit.

She stood hopefully outside his bedroom door. “I hope you have a good night's sleep,” she said.

“I'm sure I will.” He bent down, kissed her on the cheek and retreated into the spare room.

“Snakes and bastards,” muttered Agatha, stumping off to her own bedroom.

She lay awake for a long time, nursing hopes that he might join her, but at last fell into a heavy sleep.

*   *   *

Charles Fraith let himself into Agatha's cottage shortly after midnight. He was tired. His aunt's dinner party seemed to have gone on forever. He yawned and opened the door to the spare bedroom and switched on the light. He stared at the man in the bed, switched off the light and retreated.

He opened Agatha's door. The moon shining in the window showed Agatha asleep on one side of her double bed. He shrugged, then stripped off his clothes and climbed in beside her. He folded his hands neatly on his chest and soon was sound asleep.

*   *   *

John awoke early. He phoned his headmaster to find the school was closed because of the snow. He tried to go back to sleep, but decided instead to get up and go downstairs for a cup of coffee.

He put a bath towel over his arm and headed for the bathroom. It was locked. He was just turning away when the bathroom door opened. He swung round. A naked man was surveying him.

“Good morning,” said Charles. “We haven't been introduced. I am Charles Fraith. And you are?”

“John Hale.”

“Ah, the schoolteacher. I'd better get dressed. I'm sleeping in Agatha's other spare room. Practically a cupboard. See you downstairs.”

Charles walked past him but waited until John had gone into the bathroom. He went into Agatha's bedroom and hurriedly dressed. Agatha was still asleep. When he was dressed, he shook her awake.

“What the hell are you doing here?” demanded Agatha.

“Hush. I met your inamorato. I told him I had slept in the other spare room.”

“You know there isn't one. Where did you sleep?”

“Beside you, my sweeting.”

“Damn you! I am taking those keys I gave you back, once and for all. Get the hell out of here!”

“Not till I have had coffee. And I have news for you. The chief constable came for dinner last night.”

Agatha heard John leaving his room. “Say you're one of my detectives,” she hissed.

John made his way down to the kitchen. He had not told Agatha he had been married and had a son. He found the alimony and child maintenance he had to pay left him with not very much money. Agatha was obviously rich. Her cottage was well appointed. A rich wife could ease the burden.

*   *   *

Agatha dressed hurriedly and went downstairs, just in time to hear the doorbell ring. When she opened the door, James was standing on the step.

“Oh, come on in and join the party,” said Agatha crossly. “Why don't you invite the whole village?”

And with that, she turned her back on him, leaving him to close the door and follow her into the kitchen.

John, she saw to her dismay, was freshly shaved. He must have used one of her razors. She turned red with embarrassment.

“I took the liberty of taking a clean shirt out of the wardrobe in the spare room. And I found an electric razor in one of the drawers.”

“This is my ex-husband, James Lacey,” said Agatha, not wanting Charles to say he left spare clothes in the spare room. She hadn't known about the razor because her cleaner, Doris Simpson, always cleaned that room along with the others.

“James, this is John Hale. He was supposed to be in
The Mikado
the night George Southern took his place.”

“Doesn't anyone want to hear my great news?” asked Charles, taking one of Agatha's cigarettes and lighting it.

“Out with it,” commanded Agatha.

“David Buxton has been taken in for questioning.”

“How did you find that out?” asked Agatha.

“As I said, the chief constable was at a dinner party last night. He said Buxton took the sword to the blacksmith and had it ground until it was razor sharp. He then showed off to some of the chorus, showing it was so sharp it could slice a dropped scarf in half. He said he did it to surprise Colin Blain.”

“And has he confessed?”

“Not a bit of it, says it was a joke. But wasn't his daughter supposed to have been sexually assaulted by Bert Simple?”

“That's right. If only it can turn out to be him,” said Agatha. “On the other hand, I am being paid to investigate and if the police solve the murder, I won't get any money.”

“I'm surprised at you, Agatha,” said John. “Think of poor Gwen. It would be marvellous for her to have closure.”

“I don't give a sod for poor Gwen,” said Agatha. “She may have committed the murders herself.”

“And with that, love flew out the window,” murmured Charles.

“If you don't mind,” said John stiffly, “I would like to get back to Mircester.”

“Of course, I'll drive you,” said Agatha. “Do let yourself out, Charles, and lock up behind you. I expect you to report to the office later and type up a report.”

“Is Charles one of your detectives?” asked John.

“Yes,” said Charles at the same time as James said, “No.”

“Part time,” said Charles airily. “Off you go.”

 

Chapter Five

John was silent for part of the journey to Mircester. Who was this Charles Fraith? He had not expected any competition if he decided to pursue Agatha. But there was a strange rapport between her and this Charles. And he hadn't liked the suspicious looks her ex had been giving him. But Agatha was not only attractive but rich.

“I am afraid we didn't have a very good date. And now I owe you a meal. Why don't you come to my place for dinner tomorrow night instead of waiting until Saturday?”

“I'd love that,” said Agatha.

“I gave you my card. I've got a flat in Mircester near the theatre.”

“That would be lovely,” said Agatha, happy again. “And look, it's beginning to thaw and the sun has come out.”

John's mobile phone rang. Agatha heard him say, “I can be with you in about fifteen minutes.” When he rang off, he said, “That was the police. They want to interrogate me again.”

“Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, I'll be all right.”

But Agatha could sense his uneasiness. The police would want to question him once more about why he gave up his starring role on opening night to George Southern.

“I often wonder,” she said cautiously, “why you let George take your place.”

“Because I am too soft-hearted,” said John. “He begged and begged until I gave in.”

John did not want her to know the truth, the truth being that George had paid him a thousand pounds to take his place. He certainly did not want Agatha to know how desperate he was for money.

*   *   *

Agatha bought all the morning newspapers before she went to the office. She told her staff to get on with whatever cases they were working on, with the exception of Toni who she asked to stay behind. Agatha often had to fight down feelings of jealousy for her beautiful assistant until common sense told her that Toni was the brightest and best.