There Goes The Bride (9 page)

‘That’s me,’ said Agatha. ‘Is there anywhere we can talk privately?’

‘Pub’s open,’ said Bert hopefully.

‘Bit early for drink, isn’t it?’ asked Agatha.

‘That’s why the pub’ll be quiet-like.’

‘Okay, ask your boss for permission.’

‘Don’t need to. Me da’s the boss.’

The pub was quiet, with only two hardened drinkers propping up the bar. Agatha ordered a tonic water for herself and a pint of real ale for Bert. They sat down at a table as far away from the bar as possible. After Bert had taken a huge mouthful of ale, Agatha asked him, ‘I believe you got into some trouble over Felicity.’

‘Well, that were her doing. Egging us all on, like.’

‘The place is well guarded. How was she to guess that you and some randy schoolboys were watching her undress?’

‘There’s undressing and there’s undressing, know what I mean? Her was doing more of a striptease, like. Taking every little bit off slow as slow.’

‘She still may not have known she was being watched.’

‘Oh, yeah? Well, one night, her shouts out, “Show’s over, boys,” and pulls the curtains close. That’s a come-on. I thought, I’ll have her, that I will. So next night, I gets a ladder and climbs up. She screams and yells. We all run for it, but the police are round the next day. Then I gets a visit from old man Bross. He says if it ever happen again, he’ll kill me, but he isn’t going to charge me. I’m telling you, after that I kept real clear.’

‘Have you any idea at all who might have killed her?’ asked Agatha.

He scratched his head of thick brown hair. ‘See, it’s like this. Her was provo . . . pro . . .’

‘Provocative?’

‘That’s the word. Right little prick teaser. Now, if her ’ad been found in the woods, like, strangled and raped and all, well, everyone would like, say, her’d been asking fer it. But shot! You’d best be asking around for folks with guns.’

Meanwhile, Toni was sitting in the parlour of the cosy cottage belonging to Mrs Fellows and Mrs Dimity. Over cups of tea, she had learned that the pair were widows and had moved in together to pool expenses. Either they had always looked alike, or proximity and age had given them the appearance of sisters. Both looked to be in their late fifties, and they both had the same tightly permed grey hair, round comfortable figures, and small twinkling eyes.

‘But we don’t know who could have killed Miss Felicity, and that’s a fact,’ said Mrs Fellows, ‘unless it was that fiancé of hers.’

‘Mr Lacey? Why him?’ asked Toni.

The women looked at each other uneasily and then Mrs Dimity said earnestly, ‘Well, seeing as how you’re investigating for Mrs Bross . . .’

‘You just call her Mrs Bross?’

‘Her full name’s such a mouthful. Like I was saying, on account of that Mr Lacey there were lots of shouting and rows. When Mr Lacey heard about them Naked Servants, he hit the roof and called Mrs Bross vulgar. Mr Bross tried to punch him but Mr Lacey pushed him down into a chair and said he’d changed his mind and he didn’t want to get married. Miss Felicity cried something awful. Mr Bross threatened Mr Lacey with breach of promise and everything else. At last Mr Lacey said, tired-like, “Don’t cry, Felicity. I’ll go through with it.” And Miss Felicity brightened up no end and starts talking about arrangements for the wedding with her mother. To my way of thinking, Miss Felicity was always a bit simple.’

‘Why all the tight security?’ asked Toni.

‘It’s always been like that since they came here. But we know on the day of the wedding, them dogs were locked up and the gates were standing open, ready for the bride to be driven to church,’ said Mrs Dimity. ‘After the local lads were caught spying on Miss Felicity, that’s when Mr Bross went raging to Jerry and said he wasn’t doing his job right. But there were always burglar alarms all over the place and security lights.’

‘How did the boys get past the security?’

‘They came in from the river,’ said Mrs Fellows.

‘Are there many boats on the river?’

‘A few. Mr Bross, he wanted to claim the part of the river at the bottom of his property as private property, but he couldn’t get to do that because it’s a sort of right of way for other boats going down to the coast.’

‘So on the day of the murder,’ said Toni eagerly, ‘someone could have come by boat and –’

Mrs Fellows interrupted her. ‘No, no. Think about it. If anyone had arrived that way carrying a gun in broad daylight, they would have been seen walking up from the river and across the garden.’

‘Was Felicity maybe cheating on Mr Lacey?’ suggested Toni.

‘Don’t think she had the time, and that’s a fact,’ said Mrs Dimity. ‘Mrs Bross said they were always travelling here and there. They hadn’t been engaged that long. Mind you, during the winter, Mr Lacey went off on his own for about six weeks and Felicity and her parents went to Spain.’

‘To do business?’

‘No, just for a holiday, they said. Mind you, we had to keep on cleaning,’ said Mrs Fellows. ‘Mrs Bross said she didn’t want to see a bit of dust when she got back. Wait a bit. I ’member Jerry went with them and some man came to look after the grounds and the dogs. What was his name, Ruby?’

Mrs Ruby Dimity sat in thought. Then she said, ‘Got it. Sean was his name. Just Sean. Didn’t learn any other name. Irish as the pigs of Derry, he was.’

‘What was he like?’

‘Hard to tell. Kept himself to himself. Didn’t even come up to the kitchen for a cup of tea. Tall chap. Youngish. Well, young to us. Maybe about thirty. Brown hair, plain face, nothing special, but very fit. He’d walk those dogs for miles.’

Although Toni persevered for a while with more questions, she couldn’t get any more information out of them.

As she was leaving their cottage, her mobile rang. It was Agatha. ‘Find out anything?’

A little bit,’ said Toni. ‘Where are you?’

‘In the pub. Bert’s just left.’

‘I’ll join you.’

‘You first,’ said Agatha when Toni sat down beside her. Toni told her about Sean. Agatha brightened. ‘Well, at least that’s someone new to pursue. We’ll get back to Olivia and find out where he is, where they got him from. Anything else?’

‘I’m afraid our two cleaning ladies think it might be James. They heard James having one hell of a row over the Naked Servants and saying he wanted out of the engagement and Bross tried to punch him and then threatened him. Felicity began to cry and James at last said he would go ahead with it.’

‘If the police haven’t got that bit of information yet, they soon will,’ said Agatha gloomily.

‘What about Bert?’

‘Not much use, except that he said Felicity wasn’t just undressing, she was actually well aware of her watchers and doing a striptease.’

‘Cow!’

‘Exactly She was the full moo, believe me. Let’s get back to the house of horrors and see if we can get an address for Sean.’

Olivia looked puzzled for a moment and then her face cleared. ‘Oh, Sean Fitzpatrick. I remember. He lives on his boat down at the marina in Hewes.’

‘What is the name of his boat?’ asked Agatha.

‘I can’t remember.’

‘Where is the marina?’

‘I’m not very good at directions. But anyone in Hewes will tell you.’

‘That’s odd,’ said Agatha as they drove off.

‘What’s odd?’ asked Toni.

‘Well, the funeral should be soon, as soon as they release the body. But Olivia looked quite perky, considering her precious daughter is not long dead.’

‘Maybe she’s just putting a brave face on it,’ said Toni. ‘Actually, she does look as if she’s full of some sort of pills. She’s probably on a heavy dose of antidepressants. No one’s supposed to grieve these days. Let’s find this Sean.’

After asking in Hewes for directions to the marina, they found it at the foot of a long winding cobbled street. Various expensive-looking yachts bobbed at anchor along with smaller craft. There was a small stone jetty and on the shore were several trendy boutiques and cafés with tables outside where a few brave people crouched over cups of coffee in a blustery wind.

‘There’s an office on that jetty,’ said Agatha as they both got out of the car. ‘We’ll try there.’

In the office, a man who looked as if he were dressed for the part of a nautical extra in a film sat behind a desk. He wore what Agatha had seen advertised as ‘a genuine Greek fisherman’s hat’ on his head and a white Aran sweater over a tattersall shirt with a silk cravat tucked into the neckline. Although surely aware of them standing in front of him, he continued to write something on a pad.

Agatha waited a few minutes and then said crossly, ‘Okay, you’ve impressed us with the fact that you are a busy man. We’ve got it. We’re suitably impressed. We want to ask you a few questions.’

He looked up, feigning tolerant amusement, and tipped his chair back. He had a craggy face with deep pouches under his eyes. ‘Want a boat?’

‘No,’ said Agatha. ‘Or rather, a particular boat. Sean Fitzpatrick’s.’

‘What’s he been up to now? Seduced your daughter?’

‘We are private detectives. I am Agatha Raisin and this is Toni Gilmour. We have been hired by Mrs Bross-Tilkington to investigate the murder of her daughter. Now, where do we find him?’

‘Walk along to your left when you leave here. It’s a cruiser called
Helena.
’

And I wonder who Helena was or is,’ said Agatha when they left the office.

‘There it is,’ cried Toni, pointing. ‘That’s one really powerful boat. Must have cost a fortune.’

‘Mr Fitzpatrick!’ called Agatha.

There was no movement from the boat.

‘Aren’t we supposed to shout “ahoy”?’ asked Toni.

‘Can’t do that. I’d feel like a prat.
Mr Fitzpatrick!
’

‘The wind’s carrying your voice away,’ said Toni. ‘Why don’t I nip on board? He might be asleep or something.’

Agatha wanted to say that she was quite capable of nipping on board herself but her hip gave that awful twinge – the twinge that kept crying out for a hip-replacement operation.

‘Go ahead,’ she said gruffly.

She watched enviously as Toni leapt on to the deck. Toni called loudly but the only thing that met her ears was the hum of the traffic from the town above the river and the screech of seagulls overhead.

Toni looked across at Agatha, who made impatient well-go-ahead signs. Toni tried the door of the cabin and found it unlocked. She made her way down the companionway past the head, past a table in an alcove with a marine chart spread on it and then into the cabin. It was empty. Toni was about to retreat when she realized a cruiser this size must have a bedroom.

She opened a door at the end of the cabin. Lying on the bed was the prone figure of a man, fully dressed. A hole, like a third eye, was in the middle of his forehead. The exit wound had soaked the pillow in blood.

Toni slowly backed away, her face white. Then she turned and ran up on deck, calling wildly to Agatha, ‘Call the police. Murder!’

A combination of the wind and a mocking seagull’s cry drowned out Toni’s words, but Agatha saw the girl’s white face and picked her way gingerly along a narrow gangplank which Toni had ignored.

‘He’s dead. Shot. Get the police,’ panted Toni. Agatha took out her mobile and began to dial.

‘What are you ladies doing on Sean’s boat?’ a voice called.

Toni heard the voice but not the words. She looked across at the jetty and saw Sylvan Dubois. She started to call to him, but he jumped on the deck. ‘It’s Sean Fitzpatrick, I think,’ said Toni. ‘He’s dead. Shot.’

‘Are you sure?’ asked Sylvan, making his way to the companionway

‘Don’t go down there!’ shouted Toni. ‘It’s a crime scene.’

‘I need to make sure he is dead. Did you touch the body?’

Toni gave a shudder. ‘No.’

‘I’ll just check.’

Agatha rang off and asked angrily, ‘Where’s he gone?’

‘To look at the body.’

‘I’d better go and see what he’s up to,’ said Agatha.

‘The police have arrived,’ said Toni, waving frantically as two squad cars came racing along.

Sylvan reappeared and helped them back on to the jetty. ‘You shouldn’t have gone in there,’ raged Agatha. ‘It’s a crime scene.’

‘I know that now,’ he said with a shrug. ‘But I had to make sure.’

Police poured out of their cars, headed by Detective Inspector Boase. Agatha explained quickly what they had found and why they had been looking for Sean. Boase barked out orders. Agatha, Toni and Sylvan were to be taken to the police station and held for interrogation. Their fingerprints were to be taken and their hands checked for gun residue. Agatha was furious.

They sat and waited in Hewes police station after their fingerprints had been taken and their hands checked for what seemed ages.

At last the detective inspector returned with Detective Sergeant Falcon. ‘You first, Mrs Raisin.’

Agatha had a sudden sharp longing for James or Charles or even Roy. Charles had said he would follow her down, but in his usual cavalier way, he had not put in an appearance. She belonged to a generation when men were supposed to handle difficult situations. She was surprised at herself. Had she not built up two successful businesses? She squared her tired shoulders and sat down in the interrogation room.