Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage (7 page)

‘Not really,’ said Agatha. ‘I find I can’t think of him in the old way any more.’

‘Because that would mean hurt?’

‘Yes,’ said Agatha gruffly and her small eyes filled with tears.

‘I’ll make some tea,’ said Mrs Bloxby, tactfully going off and allowing Agatha time to recover.

‘If only I could get my old cottage back,’ mourned Agatha when Mrs Bloxby returned with the tea-tray. ‘James is so well organized, I feel superfluous. I want my own things
about me again.’

‘I called on Mrs Hardy.’ The vicar’s wife carefully poured tea into two thin cups. ‘She made a little speech about keeping herself to herself, that kind of thing. In
fact, she was quite rude. Perhaps you should look for somewhere else?’

‘I’ll have to,’ said Agatha. ‘I’m embarrassed by the fact that so many people have refused to take their presents back, including you. I know you don’t
suspect us of the murder, but I suppose most people in the village do, and that is why they really don’t want to have anything to do with us.’

‘It’s not quite that. Yes, lots of people did suspect you of the murder, but then good sense asserted itself and they became ashamed of themselves. The reason they do not want their
presents back is because they think, because of the way you are both going on, that you and James will get married after all, and they do not want to be troubled by finding a suitable card and
wrapping all over again.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Agatha harshly. ‘Then they are doomed to disappointment.’

Mrs Bloxby changed the subject and regaled Agatha with some of the more innocent village gossip until Agatha finally took her leave.

Hunters Fields was a large mansion set in pretty parkland. When James told Agatha what they were charging, Agatha blinked in sheer horror. James insisted on paying the
astronomical prices, saying he had recently been left a legacy by an aunt and was comfortably off.

They were shown to a spacious room on the first floor by a pretty receptionist who said the director would be with them shortly to explain the programme and the facilities of the centre.

The room had twin beds set well apart. They had just finished unpacking and hanging away their clothes when the director entered. He was a smooth-faced man with silver hair, well-tailored
clothes, small gold-rimmed glasses and a benign air. He introduced himself as Mr Adder.

‘The most important thing,’ he said, ‘is for our resident doctor to examine you both in the morning. We are careful about that. We do not like to subject our clients to too
strenuous a programme if they are not up to it.’ His eyes surveyed Agatha and James. ‘You, Mr Perth, look too fit to need our help.’

‘It was my wife’s idea.’

‘Ah, yes, I see.’ The mild eyes turned on Agatha and she could feel those little rolls of fat at her middle-aged waist growing bigger.

Mr Adder went on to outline the facilities – massage, sauna, swimming pool, tennis courts, and so on.

James said, ‘We would be interested to see your records.’

‘Why?’ A small frown now marred Mr Adder’s normally bland face.

‘An acquaintance of ours, a certain Jimmy Raisin, stayed here once. At the same time, some other people we might know might have been staying here and –’

‘No, no, no, Mr Perth. Our records are confidential. Dinner is in half an hour.’

He departed after giving them an odd little bow.

‘Well, that’s that,’ said Agatha gloomily.

‘We’ll just need to break into the office,’ said James.

This he repeated after a minuscule dinner. ‘I don’t think I can bear to stay the whole week, Agatha,’ he said.

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ protested Agatha. ‘Might be good for us.’ Now that they were settled, she was looking forward to a trimming-down session.

‘If I have to dine on this rabbit fodder for a whole week, my temper will become unbearable,’ said James. He looked around the other guests. They were mostly middle-aged and all
looked rich.

‘So when do you plan to break into the office?’

‘Tonight,’ said James. ‘We’ll take a look around after dinner. Wherever it is, it can’t possibly be locked. A respectable place like this has no reason to suspect
anyone would want to snoop.’

‘We may have given Mr Adder reason to think we might. For all we know, he may have something pretty ordinary to hide, like one set of accounts for himself and one for the income
tax.’

‘Well, we’ll see.’ James sipped moodily at his decaffeinated coffee. ‘And then, after we’ve located the office, we should drive to the nearest pub and get something
to eat.’

Agatha wanted to protest. She felt slimmer already. But she knew it would irritate James if she insisted on dieting when she ought to be investigating.

After dinner, they walked around and found the office off the hall. It had a glass window which overlooked the hall, so they could clearly see filing cabinets and two computers. Not only was the
office locked but so were the other rooms adjoining – sauna, massage room, treatment room, doctor’s room, and director’s room.

‘How are you going to open the door?’ asked Agatha.

‘I brought some lock-picks with me.’ James had used a set of lock-picks before, never volunteering to explain why or how he had first got them.

They then drove down to a nearby village, where James ate a large helping of steak and kidney pie while Agatha contented herself with a ham sandwich and a glass of mineral water.

And then back to their room. James suggested they change into dark clothes, lie on top of their beds, and he would set the alarm for two in the morning.

Once in his bed, he fell asleep immediately while Agatha lay awake and listened to the gentle rumbling of her stomach. Just when she thought she would never fall asleep at all, she did, and then
awoke with a start as the alarm sounded shrilly.

‘Time to go,’ said James. ‘Let’s hope they don’t have some security guard patrolling the place to make sure the guests don’t raid the kitchens.’

He opened the bedroom door. The corridor outside was brightly lit. He retreated back into the room. Agatha was wearing a navy sweater and black trousers and he was in a black sweater and black
trousers. ‘It’s very bright out there,’ he said, ‘and we look like a couple of burglars. Do you think we should put on our dressing-gowns and then we can claim we were
searching for food? They must be used to that.’

‘They will wonder what we are doing searching for food in their files. Perhaps if we put something ordinary on. We both have jogging suits. We can say we were out for a run. We can say, if
we’re caught, that we are paranoiac about our private lives and wanted to see what was on file, something like that.’

‘All right,’ said James, starting to take off his trousers. Agatha felt obscurely miffed that he should undress so unselfconsciously in front of her.

She herself changed into a scarlet jogging jacket and trousers in the bathroom. She did not want James to see any of the middle-aged body he had rejected.

Her face looked wan in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Perhaps just a little foundation cream and a bit of powder. Maybe a bit of blusher. That new shade of red lipstick would go nicely
with her jogging suit. She was just reaching for the mascara when James’s impatient voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door. ‘What are you
doing,
Agatha? Are you
going to be in there all night?’

‘Coming.’ Agatha regretfully abandoned the mascara and went out to join him. As she followed him out into the corridor, she realized again that the metabolism of Agatha Raisin did
not thrive on health food. She was sure she had bad breath and her stomach was full of gas. She fell back behind James, cupped her hands and breathed into them, but James looked over his shoulder
and demanded, ‘What are you doing now?’ and Agatha mumbled, ‘Nothing,’ fell into step beside him and prayed to all the gods who look after middle-aged ladies that she would
not fart. The silence in the building was absolute.

They reached the hall without having met anyone or heard anyone.

When they reached the office, James murmured, ‘It’s a simple Yale lock. A plastic credit card might do it.’ He took one out of his pocket and fiddled away while Agatha stood
behind him, hearing the vague rumbles in her own stomach. Lights were blazing everywhere. She had brought a torch, but both the hall and the office were brightly lit. There was a click and James
gave a grunt of satisfaction and opened the door.

‘Where do we start?’ whispered Agatha, looking at the computers. ‘One of those?’

‘They’ve got those old-fashioned filing cabinets. I bet the records about the time of Jimmy’s visit are still in one of those.’ He tried a top drawer of one. It slid open
easily. ‘Good,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s hope there’s something under Raisin.’ He searched all the files in both cabinets without finding anything.

‘Now what?’ he asked.

‘Try under Gore-Appleton,’ urged Agatha. ‘Jimmy could never afford a place like this, so it stands to reason she would make the booking and pay for it.’

He grunted and went back to his searching while Agatha stood looking through the office window into the hall in case anybody came.

At last he said, ‘Got it! Gore-Appleton, 400a Charles Street, Mayfair. Booking for a Mr J. Raisin. Five years ago.’

Agatha groaned. ‘But how do we find out who was resident at the same time?’

‘Damn, I didn’t think of that. We signed a book, a register. It was a fairly new one. The old ones must be somewhere.’

‘What about that cupboard over there?’

‘Locked,’ said James. ‘But simple to pick.’

Agatha waited while he fiddled with the lock, growing more nervous by the minute. Surely their luck could not continue to hold. And would she hear anyone coming? The whole place was thickly
carpeted.

‘Here we are,’ said James. He took a small notebook out of his pocket and began to write.

‘Hurry up,’ pleaded Agatha.

‘That’s it,’ he said after a few more agonizing minutes. ‘Let’s put it all back and lock up.’

Agatha heaved a sigh of relief when they were outside the office and back in the hall.

‘What did you get?’ she was asking when a smooth voice from the direction of the stairs made them both jump.

‘Is there anything you need?’ Mr Adder stood there in a black dressing-gown with a gold cord, his eyes gleaming behind his spectacles.

‘No, no,’ said James airily. ‘Just been for a run.’

‘Indeed,’ said Mr Adder, approaching them, his eyes fastening on the notebook which James was shoving back into his pocket. ‘How did you get outside? The doors are locked at
midnight.’

‘Up and down the stairs,’ said Agatha.

‘Up and down the
stairs?’

‘I am
so
silly,’ gushed Agatha. ‘I have these step things at home. You know, one of those exercise machines. Well, it’s
vanity.
I really wanted to be trim
and fit for my medical in the morning, so I said to James, “Let’s run up and down the stairs.” They are so thickly carpeted, I knew we wouldn’t disturb anyone.’

Mr Adder’s eyes were uncomfortably shrewd. ‘You are therefore in better condition than I would have believed, Mrs Raisin. You are not out of breath, neither are you
sweating.’

‘Oh,
thank you
!’ said Agatha. ‘I must really be quite fit, although I do confess to feeling a
teensy
bit tired. Bed, darling?’

‘Good idea,’ said James. ‘See you in the morning, Mr Adder.’

He blocked their way. ‘You must not try to run your own programme or this whole stay will be a waste of your money and our time. Do not wander about during the night.’

‘Right,’ said James, putting an arm around Agatha’s shoulders. They walked on past Mr Adder.

Agatha looked back as they gained the stairs. Mr Adder was trying the office door to make sure it was locked.

‘Phew,’ she said, when they were back in their room. ‘Think he swallowed that?’

‘No, but he probably thought we were looking for the kitchens and tried the office door just to be sure. Now I chose the names out of the register of the people who live near Mircester who
were here at the same time as Jimmy.’ He flipped open the notebook. ‘We have Sir Desmond Derrington and Lady Derrington, a Miss Janet Purvey, and a Mrs Gloria Comfort. When we get out
of here, however, the first thing we do is to go up to Charles Street in London and see if Mrs Gore-Appleton is still at the same address. Then we’ll start on these names.’

‘Have you paid for the whole week in advance?’ asked Agatha.

‘Yes.’

‘So don’t you think we should stay the whole week and get our money’s worth?’

‘I should die of boredom,’ said James, turning away to pick up his pyjamas and so missing the look of naked hurt in Agatha’s eyes. ‘May as well both get our medical
check-up, have a swim or a massage or something, and then get the hell out of here.’

Agatha found at her medical the following morning that her blood pressure and cholesterol levels were both a bit high. After a breakfast of muesli and fruit, she looked at her programme and went
to the masseur to be pulled and pummelled, then a sauna and then to the gym for the morning’s aerobics.

James was already there. The class was led by a blonde with long, long legs and a staggeringly beautiful figure. Agatha panted and sweated, aware the whole time that James’s eyes were
fastened on the vision leading the class. From wanting to stay on the whole week, she suddenly couldn’t wait to get out of the place. After the class was over, she fidgeted impatiently while
James chatted to the blonde instructress.

Over a meagre salad lunch and fruit juice, James looked at his own programme. ‘Going easy on me for the first day,’ he said. ‘Not much this afternoon. Like to go for a
swim?’

Agatha had a sudden mental picture of her own body set against the glory of that of the instructress. She shook her head. ‘I thought we should be getting on with our
investigations.’

‘Right you are,’ he said easily. ‘But I thought you wanted to stay.’

‘Mr Adder is over there and keeps darting little looks at us.’

‘Agatha, I don’t believe you. I think the aerobics class was too much for you.’