Agatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas Goodbye (17 page)

When she at last put down the phone, she grinned and said, ‘Good. That’s settled. He’s getting on to the hospital right away. I’ll phone you next week and make sure
someone is doing something about it. You must remember that she who screams the loudest gets the best service.’

As Pearl stammered out her thanks, they headed out of the house and round to the weedy overgrown garden at the back.

‘Just look at that!’ said Agatha in disgust, pointing to the privy at the end of the garden. ‘It’s practically fallen down. The council will stop anyone from getting rid
of the dreadful thing and yet they won’t do anything to keep it repaired.’

They stumbled through weeds and tussocks of grass. The wooden door of the privy was hanging on its hinges. Agatha jerked it open and then jumped back as the rusty hinges snapped and the door
fell into the garden.

‘It was about to fall off anyway,’ she said. They peered inside. The toilet itself had been removed. Nothing but an earthen floor and a few rusting garden implements showing it had
once been used as a garden shed.

‘So, now, Miss Bright Ideas,’ said Agatha, ‘do we dig up the floor?’

‘What else?’ said Toni cheerfully. ‘There’s a spade over there that looks as if it might still stand the strain.’

‘I think you’re wasting your time. I saw a garden seat among the weeds. I’m going there for a smoke. It’s all yours.’

Toni started to dig and then stopped as she heard a scream from the garden.

She ran out. Agatha had sat down on a rotting wooden garden chair which had collapsed under her, tumbling her on to the grass.

Toni helped her up, trying not to laugh.

‘Snakes and bastards,’ howled Agatha. ‘The grass is wet. Oh, get on with it, Toni, and I’ll sit on the back step at the kitchen door.’

Toni went back to digging. The earth was hard-packed. Once she got through the surface layer, the going became easier. She persevered, sweat running down her face. She stopped for a moment and
looked out the door. Agatha was sitting, blowing smoke up into the grey sky, a dreamy look on her face.

Probably dreaming of a white Christmas, thought Toni and went back to work. But as her arms began to ache, she felt foolish. What a stupid, wild idea. She went out and called to Agatha that she
was going to fill the hole in again. As she turned round, a shaft of sunlight cut through the clouds and shone straight into the hole in the privy. There was a small knob of something
yellowish-white showing through the earth at the bottom of the hole. Heart beating hard, Toni lay down on the floor and began to scrape the earth away with her fingers. The top of what looked like
a skull was gradually exposed.

Toni got slowly to her feet. Her knees were trembling.

‘Agatha!’ she called. ‘I’ve found something.’

Agatha and Toni met up several hours later in the reception area of Stoke police station. ‘Are you psychic or something?’ grumbled Agatha. ‘Got gypsy blood?
How did you guess Phyllis might have killed Susan?’

‘It seemed logical,’ said Toni. ‘I mean, who else would have wanted to get rid of her?’

‘Oh, well, I suppose we’d better find somewhere to stay the night,’ said Agatha, stifling a yawn.

‘The detectives who interviewed me said we could go back home,’ said Toni. ‘Just so long as we report to Mircester tomorrow. I don’t mind driving.’

‘All right. I want to see if my cats are all right.’

As Toni drove steadily down the motorways, Agatha kept glancing over at her. This is how Samson must have felt when his hair was cut, she thought. Toni’s a terrific asset but she does make
me feel old and dithering. And I am not old! Today’s fifties are yesterday’s forties, or so they say.

She wanted to assert herself by taking over the driving, but her eyelids began to droop and soon she was fast asleep.

‘Wake up. You’re home!’ Toni’s voice roused her up from the depths. Agatha rubbed her eyes.

‘Can’t be. I can’t have been asleep all that time.’

‘You obviously needed it,’ said Toni cheerfully. ‘If you call me a taxi, I’ll get home myself.’

Agatha was about to suggest that Toni stayed the night at her place but then realized the girl would probably like to get to her own place for a change of clothes in the morning.

‘Come inside,’ she said, ‘and I’ll phone for a cab.’

Agatha’s cats came purring up to meet her. She looked at her watch. Three in the morning! Her stomach rumbled. She wondered whether she should offer Toni any food but was suddenly
desperate to get rid of her. Agatha telephoned for a taxi, told Toni it would take twenty minutes, and went upstairs to the bathroom.

She paused on the landing. The faint sounds of snoring were coming from the spare bedroom. She looked in through the open door. Charles was sprawled on his back, fast asleep.

Agatha, reluctant to go downstairs and join Toni, undressed, took a quick shower, put on a nightdress, slippers and a kimono, and then went back down to the kitchen.

Toni was fast asleep, her head on the kitchen table. Agatha made herself a cup of black coffee and lit a cigarette. The sign on the packet said, ‘You may injure others with passive
smoking.’ ‘Screw you,’ muttered Agatha, but she went and opened the kitchen door.

The trouble is, she thought, I’ve always been a sort of one-woman band. I’ve always believed I was a clever detective, but I think I’ve simply been lucky and now I’ve got
someone luckier than me. Then she smiled. Finding a skeleton in a toilet would not be many people’s idea of luck. But why had Toni leaped so quickly to the idea that Phyllis might have
murdered Susan? I hope my mind isn’t ageing, thought Agatha. Good, there’s the taxi.

She shook Toni awake and the girl stumbled out sleepily to the cab. ‘Don’t come in until noon,’ said Agatha, ‘and then we’ll go to the police station
together.’

Agatha retreated to the kitchen, took a packaged curry out of the fridge and popped it into the microwave. She stared as it went round and round until it pinged. She ate it out of the container,
then shooed the cats back in from the garden, shut the door and crawled off to bed. Oh, for a good night’s sleep!

She was awakened, it seemed to her, ten minutes later by Charles shaking her. ‘The police are downstairs.’

Agatha groaned. ‘What’s the time?’

‘Nine o’clock. What have you been up to now?’

‘Let me get dressed. What police?’

‘Bill Wong and Detective Inspector Wilkes.’

‘Buzz off and give them coffee or something.’

Agatha dressed hurriedly and headed for the stairs. Then she realized she had forgotten to put make-up on. She scurried back to the bathroom and made her face up in front of a magnifying mirror.
‘Toni doesn’t need make-up,’ she muttered. ‘Blast Toni.’

Wilkes looked at Agatha sternly as she entered the kitchen. He had a sheaf of faxes in front of him on the kitchen table. ‘I’m very tired,’ complained Agatha. ‘Toni and I
were interviewed for hours up at Stoke.’

‘But I am interested in the murder of Phyllis Tamworthy,’ said Wilkes sternly. ‘Detective Sergeant Wong, you are on duty here, so take that cat off your neck.’

Bill sheepishly removed Hodge from his shoulders and Boswell from his lap. Agatha felt a little stab of pleasure that they had come to her first and not to Toni, quickly banished when Wilkes
said, ‘We have already interviewed Miss Gilmour. She claims that she was suddenly struck with the idea that Phyllis Tamworthy might be a murderess and might have murdered Susan
Mason.’

‘It did seem an odd flight of fancy at the time,’ said Agatha. ‘Charles, please get me a cup of coffee.’

‘But Miss Gilmour told me the idea came to her after the evidence you had collected.’

‘What evidence?’ asked Agatha.

‘Mrs Tamworthy had ruthlessly taken Hugh away from his fiancée the minute he had that pools win. Then there was something about her being teacher’s pet at school, and then the
teacher going off her and subsequently dying.’

‘Oh, that evidence,’ said Agatha weakly. ‘Yes, we both began to decide that Phyllis was a much nastier person than we had even begun to imagine. That was why I encouraged my
detective to go ahead and dig up that privy.’

And then Wilkes said those words Agatha had been beginning to dread. ‘Let’s begin at the beginning, Mrs Raisin.’

Agatha wearily described their trip to the north and told him about everyone they had spoken to and what they had said, right up until Toni found the skeleton.

‘You see,’ she ended by saying, ‘I thought it might have something to do with Phyllis’s past. When will you get the DNA result from the skeleton?’

‘Don’t think we’ll need it,’ said Wilkes. ‘Susan Mason’s handbag was down the hole with her bank book in it, and some fragments of clothing, and with a bit of
luck we’ll match the dentistry done on the teeth today sometime. What makes you think Phyllis might be the culprit? What about Hugh Tamworthy?’

‘If he was weak enough to let Phyllis bully him into marrying her, then I can’t see him having the guts or the reason to bump off Susan, a girl he genuinely seems to have been in
love with. Oh, and when she was at school, Phyllis fell out with her schoolteacher. Said schoolteacher died shortly afterwards.’

‘We’ll look into that. I think it would be better if you kept well out of it from now on, Mrs Raisin.’

‘What!’ screeched Agatha. ‘You wouldn’t ever have found that skeleton if it hadn’t been for a brilliant piece of deduction.’ Agatha became aware that Charles
was looking at her cynically. ‘. . . by Toni,’ she added. ‘Besides, I’m being employed by the family.’

‘All right. Confine your investigations to the family and to whoever murdered Mrs Tamworthy,’ said Wilkes. ‘But suspend your activities for a week or so and leave the police to
do their job.’

Agatha showed them out. The postman was just arriving. Agatha waited hopefully until he handed her a small pile of correspondence. She flicked through and found a highly coloured postcard of
Tonga. She turned it over and read: ‘Working hard on the latest travel book. Will be back for Christmas. You’d love the sunshine here. Love, James.’

She smiled with delight. She would make it a Christmas to remember.

Back in the kitchen, she put the postcard on the table and thumbed through the rest. ‘Junk mail and bills,’ she said.

‘Who’s the postcard from?’

‘James.’

‘Aha. That explains the smile on your lips and the shine in your eyes. It’s a dead duck, Aggie.’

‘Oh, shut up. I’ve got to get into the office, although I could do with some more sleep.’

‘Then go back to bed. You’re the boss.’

‘No, I can’t sleep now. I’ve got to get out to that blasted manor and see how they’re all taking this latest development. Coming with me?’

‘Why not?’

‘I’d better get Doris to house-sit. The new cooker’s arriving today.’

‘Cooker? Is this for Christmas? Decided to char another bird after all?’

‘No, I’m not only getting a caterer, but a chef as well. I’ve ordered a decent turkey and I don’t want to risk getting one of those nasty frozen supermarket ones if I
leave it all to the caterers. I’ll just phone Patrick and Phil as well and see how they are getting on and then we’ll be off.’

‘How is Phil, by the way?’

‘No bad effects after his lightning recovery. He’s a tough old boy.’

It was a steel-grey day as they drove towards the manor house. Flocks of migrating birds drew arrows across the sky. Coloured leaves spiralled down in front of the car.
‘It really is quite cold,’ said Agatha. ‘Perhaps it
will
snow this Christmas.’

‘It never snows at Christmas. You’re building all this up to an unhealthy level.’

‘Nothing is going to go wrong.’

‘Except the final death of romance.’

Agatha did not deign to reply as she turned into the gates of the manor.

‘Can’t see any police cars,’ said Charles.

‘Maybe they’ve all gone off to their respective homes,’ said Agatha, ‘and the police are interviewing them there.’

Jill, the groom, came round the side of the house as they were getting out of the car.

‘Family at home?’ asked Agatha.

‘They’re all at the funeral. They’ll be back from the crematorium any minute now.’

Agatha said, ‘I didn’t know the body had been released for burial.’

‘Yes, about a week ago. I suppose it’s all right if you go inside. Some women from the village are preparing sandwiches and things.’

‘I wonder if that’s wise,’ said Charles as they walked into the manor. ‘Don’t eat any sandwiches with green in them. Could be hemlock.’

They could hear a clatter of plates coming from the kitchen. ‘Where will we wait?’ asked Agatha. ‘I mean, it might look a bit cheeky to be found in the drawing room like
guests.’

‘Particularly as it looks as if you’ve exposed dear Mama as a murderess.’

‘I didn’t think of that. They may not know. I mean, the police won’t tell them anything until they have more proof. It’s not as if any one of them were even born at the
time. Phyllis was pregnant with the first one as far as I remember. I’m beginning to wonder what sort of man Hugh Tamworthy really was.’

‘Sick,’ said Charles laconically while he pushed open doors. ‘Look, there’s a little room here.’

‘Used to be the morning room. We can wait here.’ Agatha followed him in. ‘What do you mean, sick?’

‘Sick people gravitate to sick people. The formerly abused child marries a wife beater. The child of an alcoholic may not become one but ten to one will marry one. There are professional
victims and martyrs all over the place . . . like you.’

‘Just what do you mean by that?’ snarled Agatha.

‘A normal person wouldn’t have put up with James for a minute.’

‘I’ll have you know, both my parents were alcoholics and I am not one, neither is James. I could do with a drink right now, mind you.’

‘I hear them arriving.’ Charles walked to the window. ‘The men have black ties but the women are wearing their usual clothes. Just them, no one from the village except the ones
in the kitchen and they’re only here because they’re being paid.’

Agatha opened the door. ‘I’ll waylay Alison. She isn’t a member of the family except by marriage and she didn’t like Phyllis.’