Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist (13 page)

"Waste of space, Aggie," remarked Charles. "He won't care if you don't turn up."

"I shall find out who murdered Rose if it's the last thing I do," shouted Agatha.

"Oh, get in the car."

Agatha took a step towards the passenger side. A rock sailed past her head and struck the rear window of the car, leaving a great jagged hole in the middle of the cracked and starred glass.

Charles, who had been unlocking the car door, stared at Agatha, white-faced.

Then he ran to the entrance to the car-park and looked wildly around. Groups of tourists laden with cameras wandered up and down the narrow streets. Agatha joined him.

"Let's go back and see if they left that cafe."

At the cafe, they were told that "their friends" had left a few minutes ago, got into their cars and driven off.

"It could have been kids," said Charles as they emerged again. "But you'd better tell the police and then get the next plane out to England."

"You forget. I'm a suspect, too. I've been told not to leave the island."

"Well, I'll need to report it anyway and get another car."

They went into the Tree of Idleness and Charles asked the manager to call the police. Not only did the police arrive, but several detectives, and the road outside the Tree of Idleness was blocked by police vehicles with flashing blue lights.

Charles made his statement, which was duly recorded. They were told they would be contacted further. Police were fanning out to question tourists and locals if they had seen anything. It all took some time and so, when they finally drove back to Kyrenia and waited for Charles to get another rented car, Agatha realized she was shaken and very hungry. They went to Niazi's, a restaurant famed for its kebabs and slow service, and ate a leisurely meal while Agatha went over and over it all again, debating that if the rock had been thrown at her deliberately, then it must be one of the English suspects.

Charles took himself off to the toilet as soon as the bill arrived. Agatha wondered whether to wait until he returned to see if he would pay it, but decided his sudden departure for the toilet was because he meant her to pay. And, indeed, on his return to the table he thanked her courteously for her "invitation to lunch," said he would see her around, and drifted off.

Agatha drove back to the villa, feeling as she approached it like a guilty and adulterous wife--which was ridiculous, she told herself angrily.

She saw with a sinking heart that not only was James's car outside the villa, but the long, low, official black one used by Pamir.

Agatha was suddenly very tired and upset. Her legs shook and her eyes filled with weak tears. She felt she had endured enough for one day.

James and Pamir were in the kitchen.

"What the hell have you been up to?" demanded James.

"Sit down, Mrs. Raisin," said Pamir. "You have had an upsetting morning. It could have been children. A lot of the local children are very spoilt these days, just like in England. Videos and computers and no discipline. Perhaps some tea for Mrs. Raisin?"

James grumbled something under his breath but got up and switched on the kettle.

"Now, Mrs. Raisin," said Pamir in a more gentle voice than he usually used, "perhaps you might begin at the beginning...?"

"I'm beginning to think if I ever hear those words again, I'll weep," said Agatha.

But she told him everything, about Trevor's threats, which seemed to have been caused by the others' frightening him into thinking that her investigations might cause the wrong suspect to be arrested, and then about the rock thrown at her.

James put a cup of tea in front of her and sat down again.

"And where does Sir Charles come into all this?" asked Pamir. "He was on the island at the time of the murder. I think I should ask him what he was doing."

"Oh, for heaven's sake," snapped Agatha. "He couldn't possibly have anything to do with it. He didn't know any of them."

"Nonetheless..."

"Nor is he magician enough to stand outside the car-park when he was already inside it and throw a rock at me."

"Besides," jeered James, "he's a baronet, so he couldn't possibly do anything wrong, could he, dearest?"

Pamir's black fathomless eyes flicked from one angry face to the other.

"Ah, jealousy," he said. "What were you doing, Mr. Lacey, when all this was going on?"

"I was in Nicosia," said James curtly.

"Doing what?"

James flashed Agatha a warning look. "Shopping."

"Where? Which shops?"

"I haven't any warm clothes with me and so I bought a couple of sweaters. I'll probably still be here when the cold weather sets in."

"Let me see."

James went over to the kitchen counter and came back with a plastic bag. "You will find two sweaters in it and the receipt showing they were purchased today."

"And that was all you did?"

"I went to the Mevlevi Tekke Museum near the Kyrenia Gate, had a look around and then came back here. I came back two hours before you arrived."

Pamir turned and questioned Agatha again, taking her through her whole story, making various notes. Then at last he stood up.

"I would advise you to be careful, Mrs. Raisin. It would be as well if you kept away from the other suspects until this murder is solved."

"I can't be a suspect," said Agatha. "Someone's been trying to kill me."

"Ah, if I were a cynical man, which I am not, I might say there is no evidence of that, only your word."

"But the rock!"

"As I say, that could have been children. I will be talking to you soon."

James saw him out. When he returned to the kitchen, Agatha said, "Before you start jeering about baronets: Like I told Pamir, I went to look for the others, heard they'd gone to Bellapais, and took Charles's offer. I'm tired. Right now I want to forget about the whole thing. Maybe you'd better investigate on your own. Charles blew it for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Charles told them I wasn't investigating anything. He called them a dreary, poisonous bunch of people."

James smiled for the first time. "And so they are. I wouldn't let that stop you. For some reason the Debenhams are staying friends with Trevor and Angus when they would, in ordinary circumstances, walk on the other side of the road if they saw them coming. You've only to show up and smile and apologize for Charles's outburst and they'll be all over you like a rash. Why didn't you come back earlier?"

"I was shaken and hungry and I decided to take up Charles's offer of lunch, only he turned it into my offer by skating off to the toilet when the bill arrived. He's a cheapskate."

James smiled again. "You'll know to keep clear of him in future."

"So what did you really get up to in Nicosia?"

"That's my business. I don't want you interfering in it."

"All I've heard today is 'stop interfering,'" said Agatha. "I'm going to have a bath."

"There's water," said James, "and when you've had it, have a rest and then we'll go and make friends with our suspects."

"Are we going to confront Trevor with the fact we know he inherits--or probably inherits--Rose's money?"

"Not yet. No point in driving them away from us. We'll go along and charm them later."

Agatha lay in the bath and stared up at the louvered window above it through which came the roaring sound of the Mediterranean. The events of the day remembered seemed small and bright and not quite real, as if they were all something she had seen in a film.

She was suddenly engulfed in a wave of homesickness. In Carsely she would have had her support group of friends: Mrs. Bloxby, Bill Wong and the members of the Carsely Ladies Society. The trees would be beginning to turn red and gold and the roads around the village would be full of pheasants who seemed well aware that the shooting season had not yet begun. She missed her cats. She hoped Doris Simpson was looking after them properly.

Above, all, she wanted to get away from James. The therapy-speakers would ask, "Why are you letting someone live rent-free in your head?" Well, the plain answer to that was that she still liked the lodger. She thought briefly of Charles and then her mind winced away from him.

She climbed out of the deep bath and dried herself. In the bedroom, she switched on the radio in her room, which was tuned to a local English-speaking station which played records. Then the remorselessly bright DJ, a woman with a nasal Essex voice, sang along with the records in a flat monotone, and the records were mostly rap. But as Agatha reached out to switch it off, the music died away and an interview with some member of the north Cyprus National Trust was announced. Agatha decided to listen while she chose something glamorous for the evening ahead. She picked up a little black dress and held it against her. Black could be very ageing. A well-modulated English voice on the radio was talking about snakes, explaining that the poisonous snakes were in the mountains and the harmless snakes at the coast. "But," went on the voice, "the other day I found one of those harmless snakes in my kitchen sink in Kyrenia. I decided just to leave it and after some time it emerged with a rat in its mouth, which all goes to show you what useful creatures snakes are."

Lady, I wouldn't even have a cup of tea in your kitchen, thought Agatha with a shudder.

She tried on the black dress. It was a simple sheath and short enough to show plenty of leg. Perhaps some gold jewellery to brighten it up? Agatha sat down and carefully made up her face in her "fright" mirror, one of those magnifying ones which showed every pore. Then she walked through the bathroom and into James's room where there was a long mirror. Her make-up looked like a thick beige mask and the dress was a mistake. She went into the bathroom and scrubbed off her make-up. Time to start again.

It was only when James shouted up the stairs, "Agatha, are you ready?" that Agatha at last made up her mind what to wear. She put on a white satin blouse and a black pleated skirt, high heels and restrained make-up, and hung some gold chains round her neck. Not exciting, but all she could think of in the final rush.

"I think we should take both cars," she said when she joined James, who was waiting impatiently.

"Why?"

"In case we have to split up for some reason."

"You mean, in case you go off with Charles."

"Don't be so silly."

"It was a practical observation based on events, Agatha."

Agatha felt herself beginning to blush, but she said, "I have no intention of going off with Charles But something may happen--we may become separated."

"I don't want to stand here arguing all night. Take your own bloody car if you want!"

They both left the villa in angry silence and went to their respective cars.

When Agatha got to the end of the road, she saw the petrol gauge was registering empty and so turned right towards Lapta to the nearest garage, instead of left towards Kyrenia. Two huge trucks were blocking the petrol pumps and she had to wait patiently until one of them left. Then she found, because she had taken a smaller bag for evening rather than the large one she usually carried, that she had left all her money back at the villa. She explained, apologized and hurried back to find some money. Then, when she got back to the garage, the proprietor was on the phone and so she had to wait again until he had finished his call. She paid and set out on the road to Kyrenia.

Somehow the homesickness she had felt earlier would not leave her. She longed to be driving down the winding country lanes that led to Carsely, to her thatched cottage, to all the comforts of home. She was almost beginning to dislike James, and yet somehow that craving for love from him would not go away. She hit the steering wheel angrily with her hand. "I wish he would
die"
she said out loud.

She parked on the pavement outside a house. A man opened his front door and stared at her car, which was blocking it.

"I'm sorry," said Agatha, who had just got out. "I'll move it."

The man smiled, showing gold teeth. "No problem," he said cheerfully.

How easygoing they were, marvelled Agatha. If someone drove up on the pavement and blocked my gateway back home, I'd give them a mouthful and call the police.

Bert Mort, the Israeli business man, was just checking out of the hotel when Agatha arrived. He threw her a guilty look.

"Where is your wife?" asked Agatha sweetly.

"Gone back home ahead of me. Look, Agatha, I'm truly sorry."

Agatha relented. "What puzzles me, Bert, is how you could even look at an old bag like me with such a gorgeous wife."

He gave a rueful smile. "Don't put yourself down, Agatha. You've got great legs."

"Agatha!" James stood there, glowering.

"Coming," said Agatha meekly. "Goodbye, Bert. Safe journey."

"They're in the bar," said James. "I thought we should approach them together."

They walked through the lounge and towards the bar. "I feel nervous," said Agatha.

"Just think of your great legs and you'll feel better," said James acidly.

Agatha bit back an angry reply, for they had now reached the entrance to the bar.

Olivia gave them a bleak look, Trevor looked surly and angry, and George Debenham put a protective arm around his wife's shoulders as if to guard her from attack.

"I'm right surprised to see you here," said Angus accusingly and Harry nodded in agreement.

"I owe you all an apology," said Agatha humbly. "I was upset and Charles had heard you having a go at me, Trevor, and he was angry. But I don't know Charles very well and I am not responsible for his remarks. I wouldn't hurt any of you for the world."

"It's all right, Agatha," said Olivia with a sudden warm smile. "We're all rattled by this business and they are still holding the body and poor old Trevor can't get on with the funeral arrangements."

"Sit down and join us," said George "Drink?"

That was easy, almost too easy, thought Agatha, but glad that her apology was over, she ordered a gin and tonic; James ordered a brandy sour.

"The reason we came looking for you," said James, "was that Agatha wanted to take you all out for dinner."