Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist (18 page)

"Maybe. I'm frightened someone will have a go at me again. One of them is taking me seriously. James shouldn't have left me to face this alone."

"I'm here."

"True, but..."

"I lack gravitas. Bad-tempered people always carry weight."

"James is
not
bad-tempered!"

"If you say so."

Agatha thought of James. She had to admit that he had been bad-tempered since she arrived, but finding yourself in the middle of a murder was enough to make anyone bad-tempered, she thought defensively, to keep the idea at bay that it was her unwelcome pursuit of him that had turned him nasty.

"I suppose you expect me to pay for this," said Agatha.

"Yes, thank you."

"You
are
a cheapskate."

"No, Aggie, I am your twentieth-century man. You wanted equal rights and that means equal expenses. If you stop bitching fu take you to dinner tonight."

"James might be back."

"Dream on. Now the path from this beach only leads to the old harbour. I had a look at your guidebook. We'd better drive round."

"No sleep?"

"No, I'm awake now."

They drove round to the site and parked outside the old amphitheatre. A bearded guide in a battered sports jacket was just about to take a party around. "I am Ali Ozel," he introduced himself after waving them over. "You may join my tour if you like."

"That's very kind of you," said Charles, "but we're looking for some friends."

"I may have seen them," said Ali. "What do they look like?"

"One woman, middle-aged, scrawny, arrogant, high commanding voice, with four men. One her husband, thin and sallow, quiet; friend Harry, farmer, elderly, thinning white hair; Angus, Scottish and proud of it, looks a bit like Harry; Trevor, fair hair, thick lips, beer belly, ghastly pink from the sun, truculent."

Ali's eyes twinkled with amusement. "You
did
say they were friends of yours? I did see some people like that about an hour ago, but I haven't seen them since."

"Okay, thanks anyway. We'll look for them." Charles took Agatha's arm and led her into the ruins of Salamis.

They ploughed their way through the ruins. Charles was particularly impressed by an open-plan latrine with seating for forty-four people. The ruins were bright with tourists in multi-coloured holiday clothes. The sun was dazzling. Agatha would just think she had seen her quarry, and then the group would turn out to be totally different people.

The tall columns of the gymnasium stood proudly up against the blue sky. Charles appeared to have forgotten why they were at Salamis and enthusiastically took control of Agatha's guidebook, wandering here and there, admiring everything.

There are a great many ruins at Salamis and they cover a wide area. Agatha began to become weary and would have liked to sit down somewhere in the shade and wait for Charles, but she did not want to be alone, not with Olivia and the others possibly somewhere around.

They trudged ever onwards until Charles consulted the guidebook and said he would like to see the tombs of the kings. A map showed them to be situated on the other side of the main Famagusta road. "Better walk back and take the car," said Charles.

They walked back to the car-park and then drove back out to the road and so to the tombs. They bought tickets at a museum which was more of a dusty hut with replicas of a chariot and a hearse. They left the museum and walked towards the tombs.

The nearest tomb has a broad shallow ramp leading to the burial chamber with the skeletons of two horses at the entrance, where the animals were cremated after pulling the king to the burial chamber. The tombs where kings and nobles were buried dated from the seventh and eighth centuries B.C. They were buried along with their horses and chariots, favourite slaves, food, wine and other necessities for the afterlife.

It was when they had got to the fiftieth tomb of the hundred and fifty tombs and just when Agatha thought she could not walk a step farther that Ali Ozel appeared with his tourists.

"I saw your friends," he said.

"Where?" demanded Agatha.

"Back towards the gymnasium. You said five of them, but there were only four, looking for a fifth, who had disappeared."

"We'd better go," said Agatha to Charles, all her energy renewed.

They walked back to the car-park and drove to the gymnasium. There were only a few tourists, but no Olivia, husband or friends. The pillars were beginning to cast long black shadows across the gymnasium.

"Back out to the car-park," said Charles. "We might just catch them."

But at the entrance, before they reached the car-park, they could hear Olivia's voice questioning another guide. "Haven't you see him?"

Agatha and Charles went up to her. Her husband George, Trevor and Angus stood a little way away.

"What's up?" asked Agatha.

Olivia swung round. "We lost Harry."

"Wasn't he with you?"

"Of course he was. But he wandered off towards the beach. You know, there's a Roman villa and then a crossroads with a track leading down to the sea. He said he wanted to see what kind of beach it was. We then all agreed to go different ways to look at different things and then meet up in the gymnasium. When he didn't come back, we went down to the beach but there was no sign of him. We all spread out and began to search and agreed to meet up in the gymnasium again, which we did, but none of us has been able to find Harry, and I'm tired and don't want to be stuck here all day."

"You are the murder people," said the guide suddenly. "I see you on television."

Olivia ignored him, but Agatha saw the guide go into his little office and pick up the phone.

"We'll try the beach again for you," said Charles. "Maybe you missed him."

"But that's miles," groaned Agatha.

"Then you wait here," said Charles. "I'll go alone."

"No, I'm coming with you." Agatha did not want to be left with them in case one of them tried to murder her.

They set off as the sun fell lower in the sky. There were few tourists now. Ah passed them and shouted, "Any luck?" They shook their heads and pressed on until they came to the crossroads."

"It should be easier to search now," said Charles. "Most people will have left the beach."

They almost ran down the narrow road to the beach, Agatha forgetting her fatigue in her desire to find Harry.

The beach was nearly deserted. A yacht bobbed out on the water. The sea was calm, with only little waves rippling in across the sand.

And then, along the beach, they saw a lone figure, lying prone. The top half of the body was mostly covered by a newspaper, its pages rising and falling in the slight breeze.

Charles pointed. "Do you think that's him?"

"May as well go and see." Agatha headed along the beach and Charles followed.

They both stood together at last, looking down.

"Seems to be asleep," said Charles. "Do you think those are Harry's feet?"

"I don't know what Harry's feet look like," said Agatha. "Here goes."

She bent down and gently drew away the newspaper which was covering the man's face and top half of his body, noting that it was
Kibris
, a Turkish Cypriot paper.

Agatha knew immediately, before she saw the broad red stain on the front of Harry's shirt, that he was dead. The face was as lifeless as clay. Someone had closed his eyes.

All the frights she had endured, the two attempts on her life, the long hot day and now this made Agatha feel sick, and dizzy and faint. She sat down on the sand and put her head between her knees.

"Stay there," said Charles urgently. "I'll get help."

So Agatha sat where she was, beside the dead body of Harry. A woman passed her, leading a small child by the hand. She stopped and turned back and stared open-mouthed at the dead body, at the gruesome red stain on the shirt. Then she scooped up the child and ran off down the beach, screaming at the top of her voice.

Agatha stayed, unmoving. Her mind seemed to be a numb blank. In the distance, she heard the wail of police sirens. She felt very tired.

Then she was dimly aware of being surrounded by people, of Charles's saying sharply, "Can't you see she's in shock? I was with her when we found the body. I'll answer any questions."

He helped Agatha to her feet. She blinked and stared around in a dazed way.

Pamir was there, his face grim. "If you will just step aside for a moment with Sir Charles," he said to Agatha. "Only a few preliminary questions."

With Charles's arm around her waist, Agatha walked up the beach.

"Now we will sit down here," said Pamir. "You first, Sir Charles."

So Charles painstakingly went through their day, ending up with the finding of Harry.

In a dreary little voice, Agatha then told the same story.

"You may go," said Pamir. "I will call on you later."

"I'll be with Mrs. Raisin at the villa," said Charles.

Agatha wanted to cry out that James might be there, but felt too weak and shaky to protest.

Charles said he would drive. She fell asleep on the road back to Kyrenia, awaking only when they stopped outside The Dome.

"Wait there," said Charles. "I'll get my stuff."

He's going to move into the villa, thought Agatha with a stab of panic. She still cherished a hope that James might be there waiting for her.

Bright images of the day crowded her head--the ruins, the ancient brutality of the tombs, Harry's still, dead face and closed eyes facing up to the sun. Who had closed his eyes? The killer, no doubt.

She fumbled in her handbag for a cigarette and ht it. What were they doing in Carsely, sleepy Carsely that she used to despise for its lack of excitement? She thought longingly of the vicarage, where Mrs. Bloxby would produce tea and scones and they would sit by the fire and chat about safe and secure village matters. Would she ever see her home again? Or would the killer, who had tried to get rid of her twice and failed, be successful on the third attempt? She shivered, suddenly glad that she was not going to be alone in the villa. Damn James for a heartless, selfish beast. He should be there to protect her. Yes, he hadn't even thought of that! Two attempts on her Ufe and he had cleared off, leaving her alone. He didn't care a rap for her or he would not have gone. Forget the analysis-paralysis and look at the footwork. She could not possibly imagine that a man who had any feeling for her at all could leave her in such peril.

Charles came out of the hotel, carrying two expensive suitcases which he put in the boot.

He slid in behind the steering wheel.

"You're very kind," volunteered Agatha.

"Think nothing of it," said Charles. "You're saving me a hotel bill."

The rest of the evening went by like a bad dream. Pamir came at eight o'clock to grill both of them again. His anger seemed to have mounted. Outside, the press waited eagerly. The murder on the Greek side was old hat.

At last Pamir left.

"We can't go out anywhere without being plagued by the press," said Charles. "They will keep banging on the door. There they go again. "

But a voice shouted, "British High Commission here."

Charles went to let a small, dapper man in, blinking in the sudden blast of flashes from press cameras.

He introduced himself as Mr. Urquhart and advised them, unnecessarily, as Charles acidly pointed out, to cooperate with the police. Then he began to question Agatha closely about James Lacey. Where was he? Turkey? Was she sure? He could still be on the island.

"If he were," said Agatha, "then he certainly would not be at Salamis, murdering poor old Harry Tembleton."

"This is all most unfortunate," said Mr. Urquhart. "The police were about to release Mrs. Wilcox's body and let you all go home, but in the light of this latest murder they are certainly not going to let any of you go."

He then questioned Agatha about James again, but Agatha would only repeat that James had said he was going to Turkey. She did not mention anything about his investigations into Mustafa.

At last Mr. Urquhart departed the villa in a fusillade of flashes. From outside the villa came the nasal voice of a television reporter talking to a camera.

"Do you want to go to bed?" asked Charles. "Or shall we eat first?"

"There's nothing much left in the house," said Agatha. "And I don't feel like the picnic stuff. The phone's ringing again. Maybe I should answer it. It might be James."

"And pigs might fly. I'm hungry. Those few little kebabs at lunch-time didn't go very far. Tell you what. If we go out the back and shin over the garden wall, we'll find ourselves in the fish-restaurant car-park. I fancy some of those nice little red fish like mullet."

"The press will see us."

"They can't, surely." He opened the back door, which was next to a small laundry-room. "Come here, Aggie. All we need to do is sneak round the corner of the building and over the wall. They'll never see us. That great hedge of mimosa screens us."

The idea of being with other people in a crowded restaurant appealed to Agatha.

They went out, gently closing the door behind them, and climbed over the low wall which separated the villa garden from the car-park.