Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham (14 page)

‘Not trying to seduce me, are you, Aggie?’ was Charles’s greeting as he surveyed her plain and serviceable dressing-gown worn over a high-necked cotton night-dress.

‘Come in and tell me about it.’

Agatha led the way into the living-room and quickly switched off the television, where a rerun of
Star Trek
was showing, in case Charles decided to watch it.

Charles poured himself a drink and sat down.

‘I’ve found out the identity of the slim, rabbity blonde.’

‘Who is she?’

He brought out his small notebook. ‘Jessie Lang. Evesham girl. Josie said bitterly that she came in one day and made a hell of a scene.’

‘What about?’

‘Seems he stood her up.’

‘Another unhappily married woman?’

‘No, she works as a dentist’s receptionist, isn’t married and doesn’t appear to be well off.’

‘Got her address?’

‘No, Josie said the police have the old appointments book and it only had phone numbers in it anyway. But she works at a dentist’s in the High Street. I’ve got the address.
God, I’m tired. We’ll go tomorrow.’

‘Anything else?’

‘Well, our Josie was smitten by her boss, that’s for sure, but I gather she never got anywhere. She seemed ready to turn her affections on me.’

‘And what did you tell her?’

‘I said I loved only you. Fortunately, that was over coffee, for the evening promptly went down the tubes.’

‘What did she say to that?’

‘You don’t want to know.’ Josie had actually exclaimed, ‘What, that old frump!’

‘What about Portsmouth?’ fretted Agatha.

‘It can wait a bit. The action’s here, Aggie.’

‘I wish you wouldn’t call me that! I think the action began in Portsmouth. What if he blackmailed his customers there and one of them followed him up here? Oh, Worcester CID called
when you were out. Nag, nag, nag. Same old questions, apart from the fact they’d found out I was lying about just hearing John’s house had gone on fire. Made me feel guilty.’

‘So what should we do at the dentist’s tomorrow?’ asked Charles. ‘March in and question her there?’

‘No, she’s bound to go out for lunch. We know what she looks like. We’ll go in about lunchtime and waylay her.’

‘She might have lunch at her desk. I suggest I use my charm and invite her out for lunch. You could fill in the time by getting your hair done.’

‘I’ve got an appointment with that Eve person, but it’s for four o’clock, the day after tomorrow.’

‘See if you can change it.’

‘I should think the terrible Josie will delight in telling me that there are no free appointments, but I’ll try. I’ll phone in the morning. Oh, I forgot to check when we got
back from Honeybourne if there were any messages.’

Agatha went to the phone and dialled. She listened and then put down the phone and turned to Charles. ‘A message from Mrs Darry. She says she wants to see me. She sounded like her old
self. Nasty and bitchy. I’ll think about it. Maybe call on her when we’ve finished in Evesham.’

The following day, Agatha left Charles outside the dentist’s and went to the hairdresser’s. Josie was barely polite but reluctantly said there was a cancellation.
Agatha had her hair shampooed and was led through to Eve.

Eve was a tall, stately woman, rather like a figurehead on an old ship, proud bosom, flowing dark hair, rounded arms.

As she worked away with the drier, Agatha said, ‘Did you know Mr John?’

‘The hairdresser who was killed? No. Terribly sad, that,’ said Eve. ‘Lucky for me. I was starting up this business and about to advertise for staff, so I just took his old
staff over. I think I’ll just pop some rollers in and put you under the drier. Gives it a firmer set.’

‘I don’t want anything too fussy!’

‘Oh, it’ll look great.’

‘Are you from Evesham, Eve?’

‘No, I moved here recently. Thought it might be a good place for business.’

‘Where were you before?’

‘Worcester.’

Agatha fell silent as the hairdresser put down the drier and then rolled her hair up and sprayed it.

‘Yvette, put Agatha under the drier,’ called Eve.

‘Terrible about Mr John,’ said Agatha to Yvette.

‘Yeah. Want some magazines?’

Agatha nodded. The drier was lowered over her head. Several copies of last year’s
Vogue
and
Good Housekeeping
were plopped on her lap. At first Agatha amused herself by
reading last year’s horoscopes to see if they were anything like what had happened to her, but, like most horoscopes, they were so vague you could read anything you wanted into them.

Time passed. Agatha squinted at her watch. Her hair had been nearly dry when it had been put in the rollers and she had been under the wretched drier for nearly an hour.

Determinedly she put the magazines on a table beside her, removed her head from the drier and went through to the salon.

No sign of Eve.

‘Where is she?’ barked Agatha.

‘Gone out for her lunch,’ said Garry, who was perming a customer’s hair.

‘What kind of place is this?’ howled Agatha. ‘I want my hair finished now!’

Garry threw her a frightened look. ‘She’s in the restaurant next door. I’ll get her.’

Agatha stood and fumed. Eve came hurrying back in.

‘In a rush, are we?’ she asked sweetly.

‘I don’t know about you, but I do not like to be kept waiting,’ snapped Agatha.

‘Well, I’m here now,’ said Eve soothingly. She guided Agatha to a chair and began to remove the rollers. Then she back-combed and smoothed the hair.

Agatha stared at her reflection in the mirror.

‘That,’ she said bitterly, ‘is the epitome of provincial middle-aged hair-styles. Too bouffant.’

‘It’s the latest style,’ said Eve.

‘It was the latest style somewhere around the sixties.’

‘If you would like me to restyle it?’

‘Oh, forget it. Just give me the bill and let me out of here.’

In a thoroughly bad temper, Agatha went back to the car park to wait for Charles. Fortunately for her, they had used her car, so she sat and smoked and waited . . . and waited.

Eventually Charles turned up.

He burst out laughing when he saw Agatha’s hair. ‘Oh, shut up,’ snarled Agatha. ‘I’ll never go there again. Take her for lunch while I sat here and
starved?’

‘No, our Jessie was very frightened. Said she had not known our Mr John, refused to talk about him.’

‘So what kept you?’

‘I went for lunch.’

‘Why didn’t you come looking for me?’

‘I didn’t think. I was hungry.’

‘I’m going straight home to brush out this wretched style and eat. You can do what you like.’

‘Since you’re driving,’ said Charles mildly, ‘whither thou goest, I goest.’

Agatha grumbled the whole way back to Carsely about the sheer selfishness of men.

Once home, she was restored to good temper by two chicken sandwiches and a cup of soup and by brushing her hair smooth.

‘Now what?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps I should have been the one to have a go at Jessie Lang.’

‘You can have a try. What about Mrs Darry?’

‘God, I’d forgotten about her. Let’s take a walk up there. She’s probably regretted telling us anything.’

‘All right. You know, Aggie, if that ricin was put into his vitamin pills, it could have been done at any time. All the poisoner had to do was wait. You know what I mean? Poison two of
them and you could be out of the country by the time he got to them.’

Agatha sighed. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if we’ll ever find out who did it.’

‘Anyway, let’s see what Mrs Darry has to say for herself.’

The day was cold and grey as they walked through the village. The first leaves of autumn twirled down at their feet. ‘All that heat seems so far away now,’ said
Agatha. ‘I don’t like the winter in the country. You really never notice it in town. Afternoon, terrible weather, isn’t it?’

‘Who was that woman you just spoke to?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Agatha. ‘Apart from the women who go to the ladies’ society, I don’t really know that many people in the village. In Carsely, we all say
“Morning” or “Afternoon” to each other, whether we know each other or not.’

‘What about the community spirit?’

‘I think it went when everyone got cars,’ said Agatha. ‘The children are bussed out to schools and a lot of the parents work up in Birmingham or Worcester and commute. Here we
are now. I can’t help hoping she’s not at home.’

The little cottage lay dark and silent. ‘That’s her car,’ said Agatha. ‘She’s probably walking the dog. Don’t peer in the window, Charles. I tell you,
she’s out. Charles!’

He turned round and looked at her, his face strangely pinched and drawn.

‘Aggie, there’s a pair of feet sticking out from behind the sofa.’

‘She must be ill. Let’s try the door.’

Agatha turned the brass handle on the front door. It swung open. Agatha rushed into the living-room. Mrs Darry lay stretched out behind the sofa. Blood from a terrible wound on her head spread
out on the carpet. Beside her lay the corpse of her little dog, and beside both lay a blood-stained brass poker.

Charles knelt down beside Mrs Darry, feeling for a pulse and finding none.

He shook his head dismally. Agatha dialled 999 and asked for the police and an ambulance.

She turned to Charles. ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’

‘Better go outside on the road.’

Agatha fled. She was thoroughly sick. She tried to brace herself to return to Charles but found she hadn’t the courage to go back into the house of death. Somehow it was the memory of the
little dog with its head smashed in as well that made the picture that was imprinted on her mind so full of horror. It had been murder done in a vicious rage. Murder done in Carsely. Murder coming
closer to Agatha Raisin.

Fred Griggs, the village policeman, came hurrying up. Agatha told him in a weak, faltering voice what had happened. He went into the house.

Then two police cars arrived; Bill Wong, Detective Inspector Wilkes and various other plain-clothes detectives and police officers. Then the ambulance.

Agatha waited, shivering.

At last Bill Wong came out. ‘I’ll take you home, Agatha. You look awful.’

‘It’s my hair,’ babbled Agatha insanely. ‘That wretched hairdresser ruined my hair.’

‘Get in the police car. You’ll feel better when you’ve had a cup of tea.’

Back at her cottage and despite her protests that she couldn’t drink anything, Bill made her a cup of milky sweet tea. ‘Try to get it down you. You’ll feel better.’

‘If only I’d gone to see her last night,’ mourned Agatha.

‘Why? Why last night? What do you know?’

‘I may as well tell you now she’s dead. She was being blackmailed by that hairdresser, Mr John.’

‘Drink some tea and begin at the beginning.’

Agatha did as she was bid and then in a halting voice told him about Mrs Darry.

When she had finished, he demanded, ‘Did you tell Worcester CID any of this?’

She shook her head.

‘Why not? Perhaps she would still be alive if you had. I’ve warned you and warned you about the danger of playing amateur detective.’

‘It was told to me in confidence.’

‘Is there anything else you haven’t told the police?’

Agatha longed to unburden herself, but she could not betray Liza or Maggie. Besides, would either woman have been capable of committing such a savage and violent act of murder?

‘No,’ she lied. ‘Nothing.’

A voice in her brain screamed that any woman frightened of exposure as a murderess might kill again in a frenzy of rage, but she hung her head and stared at the floor.

‘I’ll need to get back,’ said Bill. ‘We’ll be along later to take a statement. Why did you call on her?’

‘She left a message on my Call Minder.’

‘Saying what?’

‘Just that she wanted to see me. She sounded as bad-tempered and bitchy as usual.’

‘Wait here.’

Bill left. Agatha sat hugging herself. A stiff wind had risen and moaned in the thatch.

The door opened and Charles came in. She rose and threw herself into his arms. ‘It’s horrible, Charles. Let’s leave it to the police. Let’s forget about the whole
thing.’

‘There, now. Brace up. They’ll all be along in a minute. I gather you told Bill Wong about Shaw-part attempting to blackmail Mrs Darry. You didn’t tell him about the
others?’

‘No.’

‘Neither did I. So we wait. We’ll not only have Gloucester police grilling us but Worcester as well because of the Shawpart connection. It’s going to be a long day,
Aggie.’

And it was. They were both driven to police headquarters in Worcester and grilled again.

Agatha felt shaky and sick. Finally, they were released with a stern warning not to interfere in police business.

‘Drink?’ said Charles.

Agatha shivered. ‘I just want to go home.’

‘Hey, we came here in a police car. How do the rats expect us to get back? Let’s go and ask them for a car.’

‘We’ll get a taxi. I’m not going back in there.’

‘Aggie, this is Worcester. It’ll cost us a lot. Let them do it.’

‘I’ll pay.’

They sat silently side by side in the cab going home. Then Agatha broke the silence as they were nearing Carsely by asking, ‘Do you feel anything about all this, Charles? I mean, you seem
very cool.’

‘It was nasty, but I just put it out of my head.’

‘I wish I could be like you,’ mourned Agatha. ‘I think I’ll see poor Mrs Darry lying there until the day I die.’

‘Come on. You didn’t even like her.’

‘It doesn’t mitigate the horror.’

‘Does for me,’ remarked Charles with what Agatha thought was truly heartless indifference.

Indoors, he poured drinks for both of them and lit the fire, which had fortunately been cleaned out by Agatha’s help, Doris Simpson, who was once more back on the job.

Charles settled down to read the newspapers which had been delivered that morning.

‘Listen to this, Aggie,’ he said, rustling the paper. ‘It says in this report, “A fleck of dandruff, a licked stamp or a smudged fingerprint on a car key could soon be
used by scientists to catch and convict criminals. Researchers have developed a method of DNA fingerprinting which will work with a single human cell.” Didn’t shed any dandruff around
Shawpart’s house, did you?’