Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist (14 page)

Agatha nearly cried out, "I did?" but bit the exclamation back just in time.

Instead she said, "Where would you like to go?"

"You suggest somewhere," said Olivia.

"There's a very good fish restaurant next to where we are living," said James. "The Altinkaya."

"The manager there is a friend of Jackie and Bilal, the couple who look after us," said Agatha. It sounded like a good idea. The farther they were from Kyrenia, the less chance she had of running into Charles, for she did not want to see the unnerving and cheapskate Charles again.

Agatha was grateful that James did not suggest driving them there; she liked the independence of having her own car and the temporary freedom it gave her from all of them.

James said he would drive off first and all they had to do was follow him.

Agatha walked up the side street to her car. The others had all-managed to find parking places opposite the hotel.

As she was opening the door to her car, a familiar voice said in her ear, "Hullo, Aggie."

"Hullo, Charles," said Agatha without turning round.

"Where are you off to?"

"Mind your own business," snapped Agatha, turning around.

"Now what have I done?" he said, looking hurt and bewildered.

"I'll be honest with you, Charles. I don't like tightwads. I don't like fellows who invite me to lunch and then pull that old trick of going to the toilet and leaving me to pay the bill."

He looked pained. "Did I do that? Am I to be blamed for a weak bladder? I thought you invited me, this being the twentieth century."

"No, you invited me."

"Oh, well, that's easily repaired. I haven't eaten. I'll take you for dinner."

"Can't. I'm going to join my friends."

He looked amused. "Not Olivia et al."

"Yes."

"No wonder someone keeps trying to bump you off, Aggie. You don't know when to give up."

"I didn't give up on you."

"No, that's true. I owe you my life, Aggie."

"Okay, I'd best get on," said Agatha, already dreading imagined demands from James as to what had kept her.

He leaned against the car so that she could not get into it. "They were quarrelling this evening in the bar."

"When?"

"I was there about an hour ago and they were all going at it hammer and tongs."

"What about? Could you hear?"

"Trevor was accusing George of having made a pass at Rose. Olivia screamed at Trevor that he was drunk. Angus shouted that Rose was a saint and wouldn't have made a pass at anyone. Harry says, 'Well, she was a bit of a slut.' Trevor tried to punch him. People stare. Waiters come running up. George suddenly mutters something and they all calm down. George offers drinks all round. Olivia coos something at Trevor, Trevor appears to apologize. End of drama."

"Gosh, I wish I'd been there."

"Anyway, Aggie, why don't you just leave it to the police? Someone's trying to bump you off and it must be one of them."

"Mrs. Raisin?"

They both turned. Pamir was walking up the hill towards them. "I have been looking for you," he said. "We found out who threw a rock at your car."

"My car," said Charles.

"The parents brought the boy in. Very bad child from Bellapais. His friends bet him he wouldn't smash the window of a tourist car, so he did. Then he bragged about it."

"Thank you for telling me," said Agatha.

"Most unusual," said Pamir, shaking his head. "We've never had a case like this before. But the boy is, I think, retarded."

"How did you find me?" asked Agatha.

"I phoned your house. You weren't there. I asked at the hotel. You had just left. I looked up this street and saw you here."

"And what about the attack on me at Hilarion?"

"We are still looking into that."

"Where were the Debenhams and the others at the time someone was trying to push me to my death?"

"Mrs. Debenham was lying down in her hotel room, as was Mr. Trevor Wilcox. But we have no proof of that. Angus King and Harry Tembleton were both out walking. They say they did not go into any shops, and with so many tourists about, we cannot find anyone to confirm their story. Mr. George Debenham was also out walking. The only person who was definitely up at Saint Hilarion was Mr. Lacey." His dark eyes glittered oddly in the light from the street lamp overhead. "Do you think Mr. Lacey has any reason to be jealous?" His eyes flickered to Charles.

"No reason at all," said Agatha firmly.

"We'll see. Enjoy your evening. A report of the arrest has been giving to Atlantic Cars, Mr. Fraith." He moved away, his tubby shadow bobbing before him.

"Charles, do move away from the car," said Agatha urgently. "I've got to go."

"So James is a suspect," said Charles, sounding amused. "If you want another refuge for the night, don't hesitate to call on me, Aggie."

He had moved away. Agatha nipped into the car and drove away with an angry roar.

James and the rest were at a large table. Agatha saw Jackie and Bilal at another table by the window and went first to talk to them.

"Is everything all right with the villa?" asked Jackie. "If you want anything, you only have to phone."

"Thank you," said Agatha. They looked such a cheerful, such a
sane
couple, that she was almost tempted to join them and forget about the others. But she smiled and went over to where James was holding a chair out for her.

"What kept you?" he demanded.

"Pamir found out who shied that rock."

"Who?"

"Some kid. He's been bragging about it, his parents heard and brought him in."

"It just shows you," said Olivia, "that the police have been wasting time looking in the wrong direction. It was probably one of the locals who tried to push you out of that window, Agatha, and yet we are plagued with police asking us to account for our movements."

"Hardly likely to be a local," said James. "They like tourists here, particularly the British, though having met some of them, God knows why. And there's such a lot of British expats living here and more coining every year. The Turkish Cypriots are so busy blaming the mainland Turkish settlers for everything that they might wake up one morning to find they are outnumbered by elderly creaking old Brits on retirement pensions."

"But surely the Turks are responsible for all the drugs in north Cyprus?" commented George.

"The Turkish mafia, yes," said James, and added harshly, "with the help of a few Turkish Cypriote who have gone to the bad."

Agatha wondered what he had done in Nicosia and what he had found out.

The manager, umit, came up with menus. They all ordered various types of local fish. Waiters arrived with the meze, plates and plates of a bewildering array of delicacies. Bottles of wine were ordered by George. Agatha was amazed again at their capacity for alcohol, for, going by Charles's account, they had all been drinking long before she and James had arrived in the bar at The Dome.

Agatha turned to Angus, who was on the other side of her from James. "How did you meet Rose and Trevor?" she asked.

"It was in London," he said. "I'd just decided to sell up ma businesses and retire and take a wee trip. I'd never been south afore. I saw all the sights, you ken, Buckingham Palace, the Tower, all that stuff. But I got to feeling a wee bittie lonely. I was staying at the Hilton in Park Lane. I was in the bar three nights after I'd arrived in London.

"I saw Rose and Trevor over in the corner. I'd never been much of a ladies' man but I couldnae take ma eyes off her. She was wearing a slinky sort of dress, but it was that laugh of hers and she kept looking over at me, as if inviting me to share the joke. I'd had a wee bit to drink, so I did what I'd never done in ma life afore. I called over the waiter and told him to give them a bottle o' champagne. The next thing was they joined me.

"Well, it was friends from then on. For the rest of ma stay they took me round the pubs and clubs and I'd never had such a good time in ma life. So Rose says, 'Why are you stuck up there in Glasgow? You should be down in Essex with us!' Trevor said he could find me a wee place near to them and so I moved south. Now Rose is gone, and ah'm telling you this, Agatha, ma life is just one desert."

A tear rolled down his old cheek.

"Why did you never marry?" asked Agatha.

"I came from poor people. I was very ambitious. I got a wee shop after working in the shipyards and saving every penny. It was just a shop selling sweeties and newspapers and things like that. But I made it work and saved everything until I was able to buy another, and then another. I 'member when I got ma first big shop right in the middle o' Glasgow... I did-nae have any time for romancing, and by the time I did, I was too shy to romance the ladies."

"Sometimes your accent is very broad and sometimes almost English," said Agatha.

"Oh, that was Rose. She said no one south could understand me and sent me to elocution lessons."

"Didn't think of taking any herself?"

"Rose had a beautiful voice," said Angus, looking at Agatha in surprise.

Love is blind, thought Agatha, and deaf as well.

"What are you two talking about?" called Olivia.

"Rose," said Agatha. "I was asking Angus how he had first met Rose and Trevor."

"And did you tell her what great friends we all became?" demanded Trevor, seeming to rouse himself from the alcoholic stupor into which he had suddenly sunk.

"Yes, I was remembering how we had first met at the Hilton," said Angus.

"That was Rose all right," said Trevor. "'Looks like a fat cat,'" she said.

"I don't understand," said Angus heavily.

"No? Well, my lovely Rose was the most mercenary bitch on God's earth," said Trevor viciously. "She liked money, so long as she never had to go out and earn it, but when it came to handing over any, she was tight-fisted. 'Ask Angus,' she kept saying. 'He's loaded.' So I asked you, didn't I, Angus? And you said"--here Trevor produced a terrible parody of Angus's Scottish voice--" Ah've worked all ma Ufe, laddie, and stood on ma ain two feet and Rose will agree wi' me that you should dae the same.'"

"But if Rose had any money, then you'll inherit it," said Agatha bluntly, and James kicked her furiously under the table.

Trevor thrust his face forwards across the table, half-rising, one hand pressing into a dish of olives. "Are you saying I killed my wife to get her money?" he shouted.

"No," said Agatha. "Not at all. Please sit down, Trevor. It was a clumsy remark."

Olivia stood up and went to Trevor. "There now," she said. "No one could ever say our Agatha had any tact. Forget it, do. Have a drink."

Trevor subsided. "I want to go home," he said. "I feel I'll never get home again."

There was a long silence. Agatha could feel James's eyes boring into the side of her face.

"Now, isn't this food delicious?" cried Olivia brightly. "James, you said you were writing a military history. How's it going?"

"Very slowly," said James. "I sit down at the laptop and get out my research notes and then something will happen--the phone will ring, or I'll decide I heard an odd noise in the kitchen that needs investigating, and by the time I return to the computer I don't feel like doing anything."

"Then why bother?" asked George. "You're retired, aren't you? Why not just say to yourself, 'I'm never going to do this'?"

"Oh, I'll get there in the end," said James. "I don't like to give up on anything."

"Neither does Agatha," said Olivia. "She pursued you here."

"Can we change the subject?" said James frostily. "Here's the fish."

Agatha wanted to say something rude to Olivia but felt she was in such deep disgrace already that she was frightened to open her mouth. She suddenly remembered a married colleague in the public-relations business telling her that she dreaded going out on social occasions with her husband because of the post-mortem afterwards: "Why did you say that?" "Did you see so-and-so's face when you said that?" "Couldn't you have found something better to wear? God knows you spend enough on clothes." And man-less Agatha had replied cheerfully, "Why don't you stand up to him? Why don't you tell him to go and get stuffed?"

And now here she was dreading the moment she would be alone with James and listening to his recriminations. The trouble was that she, Agatha, had been brought up in the pre-feminist years, in the "yes, dear" generation. And now that she had a man in her life, all the old patterns had re-emerged. Also men were born with an enviable ability to make women feel guilty about the smallest things, although, she admitted to herself drearily, that telling a man whose wife has just been murdered that her will should see him all right had been a crazy thing to do.

She asked George many questions about his life in the Foreign Office, hoping to repair the damage by being as pleasant and social as she could. George, it transpired, had been desk-bound in London, no glamorous foreign assignments. But he talked and talked. He seemed to miss his old life and his stories were all about more charismatic characters than he was himself. There is nothing quite so boring as listening to someone happily reminiscing about people one has never met, but it had the advantage of taking up most of the evening and deflecting everyone's mind from Trevor's outburst.

At the end of the meal Olivia suggested they should all have coffees and brandies at The Dome. Agatha still did not want to be alone with James, and so she said that was a good idea.

She bolted for her car before James could get to her and drove off, fumbling in her handbag for her cigarettes. She no longer liked to smoke in front of James because he flapped his hands and coughed angrily.

She drove slowly along the coast road. By the time she got to the hotel, she decided it would be better to take James aside and get the row over with. Otherwise it would be hanging over her for the rest of the evening.

She found James waiting for her by the reception desk. "Before you start," said Agatha, "I've an interesting bit of news. Before we arrived in the bar this evening, that lot were having a terrible row. Trevor accused George of having made a pass at Rose and Harry called Rose a slut and Trevor tried to punch him."