by M C Beaton
Agatha walked on shaking legs and pulled Mrs Bloxby to her feet. "We need to get help and I'm not leaving you here."
"God forgive me," whispered Mrs Bloxby. "I've killed him."
"Maybe not," said Agatha. "But we're not waiting to see."
She helped the vicar's wife into the car. The keys were still in the ignition. Agatha found that her legs were trembling so much that she could barely press the accelerator.
But she managed to start the car and drive into Toddenham, stopping at the first house.
The householder who answered the door looked at the two women and then down at the gun which Mr Bloxby was still holding in her hands, screamed and slammed the door.
"Give me the gun." Agatha put it in her handbag.
They walked next door. A slim young man answered it and after listening to their pleas to use the phone, that they had to call the police, invited them in. Agatha called for the police and ambulance, breaking off to ask the young man his address.
"We'd best go back," said Agatha. "You wait here, Mrs Bloxby, and I'll stop them."
"No, I'll come with you. I killed him."
The young man who had given his name as Gabriel Law made a move to accompany them and then decided against it. If one of these women had killed someone, he felt it would be safer to stay behind.
Agatha drove the short distance to the field.
They both sat silently in the car.
"I had to do it," said Mrs Bloxby at last.
"Yes, you did, or we'd both be dead. How blind I've been! You know how I got on to him?"
"No."
"Bill Wong said there was a single white Persian cat hair in the turn-up of old Mr Struthers's trousers. But no One could find a trace of a white cat. That was, until just before he arrived at my house this evening. I had been over to see his secretary, Portia Salmond. She said she was having an affair with him. I noticed my blouse, the one I had been wearing when I went to see her--it had white cat hairs on it. Like a fool I first thought that Portia had been the murderer."
"You would have thought Portia would have got rid of the cat."
"But no one thought of her. And the police were asking around Ancombe for white cats but they didn't explain why or make the information public. But you knew it was him. Why?"
"The atmosphere of evil when I walked into your sitting-room was almost tangible. And you looked so white and frightened. I put your life at risk, Agatha. I was frightened, too, and that's how I let him know he was suspected. What a silly fool I was. Listen! Is that a police siren?"
Agatha rolled down the window. "Several," she said.
They both got out and stood in the road.
Bill Wong erupted out the first car, shouting, "Where is he?"
"That field, just there." Agatha pointed.
Bill and Detective Inspector Wilkes and several policemen went into the field. "Get the ambulance here," shouted Bill.
Police cars moved to one side to allow the ambulance through.
Agatha and Mrs Bloxby waited and waited. Finally a stretcher with Guy's body on it was gently lifted over the fence; He had an oxygen mask over his face and a drip in his arm.
"He's still alive," said Mrs Bloxby.
And she began to cry.
Ten
"So he'll survive after all." Agatha was talking to Bill Wong in her kitchen a few days after Guy Freemont had been arrested.
"Minus one lung, yes."
"I'm glad for Mrs Bloxby's sake. I do not know how that good woman would actually have coped with killing someone. Has he confessed yet?"
"He did when he came round after an emergency operation. He thought he was dying, you see. Now he's found out he's not, he's got a lawyer preparing a defence that he was in shock."
"He won't get away with that!"
"No. He had keys to Portia's house and that's where he killed Struthers. She was out and he phoned Mr Struthers and asked him to come over. When he found out Mr Struthers planned to oppose the water company, he struck him with the poker. He also had the keys to Portia's car, so he bundled Robert in the boot, took him to the spring and dumped him. To make sure Robert was really dead he gave him another blow on the head, hence the blood you saw."
"Surely Portia isn't completely innocent? Where was she when he was using her car?"
"She was having dinner in a restaurant within walking distance and there are witnesses to that fact."
"And what about Robina?"
"Portia was helpful there as well," said Bill. "She confessed that Guy had met Robina in a pub a week before the fete, but made Portia promise not to tell anyone about it. Back to Guy's confession. Robina was in a state. She said she was sure there must be a loophole in the legal agreement. Guy said there wasn't, and Robina then said she would make a public declaration about her change of mind on the day of the fete and that she had already prepared notes for a speech.
"So Guy nipped away from the fete. He had already typed out notes on an old typewriter which he then dumped in the river. He was standing at the wall when he struck her down, picked up her notes and substituted his own."
"All that guff he gave me about murder being a useful advertisement was all a lie?" exclaimed Agatha.
"Not quite. He said it had been very useful. His lawyer, of course, is trying to say that because of shock and drugs, he didn't know what he was saying. He won't get away with it. The forensic department took apart Portia's house and found traces of blood on the carpet."
"Where did she keep the cat?" asked Agatha. "I didn't see one."
"After the first murder, she had delivered the cat to her mother's. Said she was too busy to take care of it."
Agatha scowled horribly. "I don't think she can be innocent. You didn't broadcast that you were looking for a white cat, but Guy must have known you were looking."
"It's going to be very hard to prove."
"And what of brother Peter?"
"He seems to be in the clear. But I don't think the water company will last much longer. Any profit they made will be swallowed up in Guy's defence."
"Wait a bit," said Agatha. "Who wrote those threatening letters?"
"A frightened mad old man from Ancombe. He wandered into the police station to confess. His name is Joe Parr and he has a long history of mental instability."
"He caused Robina's death," said Agatha crossly. "If he hadn't frightened her, then she wouldn't have changed her mind."
Bill looked at her sympathetically. "Are you over your shock?"
"I think I'm all right." Agatha thought back to that terrible evening, of how James had appeared in the light of the police cars, just watching, making no move to come forward and comfort her. "Mrs Bloxby and I have talked it to death. The fact that she didn't actually kill Guy has done wonders for her. She still feels guilty about nearly getting me killed, you know, giving Guy that lecture about Judgement Day."
"She was remarkably brave and so were you, Agatha."
"I was very silly. I hated those insulting bastards on the parish council so much, I was sure it was one of them. Did...did Guy say anything about me?"
Bill folded his hands and looked down at them. Guy had actually confessed to romancing Agatha because he had found out her reputation of being an amateur detective and wanted to make sure she didn't suspect him. "No," he lied. "Not a word."
"I feel such a fool," mourned Agatha. "To James it all seemed so obvious that it must have been one of the Freemont brothers, or both."
"Yes, he dug up some useful information about them. I told you about that."
"But why didn't he drop me a hint? Why didn't he tell me why he was going up to London?"
"Would you have believed him?"
Agatha coloured. "Probably not."
"Have you see him?"
"No, only glimpses at police headquarters. He hasn't phoned me and I haven't phoned him. Heard from Sharon?"
"She's walking out with a copper. Seems very happy."
He probably doesn't live wit
h his parents, thought Agatha.
"Did James ever go out with Portia?" she asked. "He invited her out."
"No, I gather he never did."
"The thing that puzzles me," said Agatha, "is that if Mary Owen and her sister were innocent, why did she go to such lengths to frighten me?"
"She's a nasty bully. I almost wish it could have turned out to be her."
There was a ring at the doorbell. Agatha went to answer it. Roy Silver stood on the doorstep. "Thought I'd drop down to see you," he said cheerfully.
"Come in; Bill's here."
"Bill's just going," said Bill Wong, appearing behind Agatha. "I'll see you later."
"Gome in, Roy," said Agatha. "What really brings you?"
"Came to offer a shoulder to weep on," said Roy. "Read all about it in the newspapers."
"I'm over the worst of it," said Agatha. "How long do you mean to stay?"
"Just for the day Now tell me all about it."
They sat over cups of coffee in the kitchen while Agatha told him a highly embroidered account about how she had begun to suspect Guy but had just been stringing him along.
"Fancy some lunch?" said Agatha at last.
"On me, Aggie. Let's nip over to that pub in Ancombe and find out how the locals are taking the news."
They drove to Ancombe. Leaves from the trees swirled down in front of them and the flowers were turning black with autumn frosts.
"I think I'll take myself abroad somewhere for part of the winter," said Agatha. "Can't bear the cold and fogs."
"Oh, I'd stick around. What about moving up to London?"
"Why?" demanded Agatha suspiciously.
"Just a thought."
They were settled at a corner table in the pub when the whole of Ancombe Parish Council came in. It transpired that Andy Stiggs had just been made chairman. They made a jolly group.
"You'd never think they hated each other," marvelled Agatha.
They all saw Agatha, but not one of them came over to say hello. They drank and toasted each other, their voices almost defiant with bonhomie.
"Let's get out of here," said Agatha when they had finished a not very appetizing lunch. "The very sight of that lot depresses me. I was so sure it was one of them."
"I thought you suspected Guy."
"Not at the beginning," said Agatha quickly.
When they arrived back at her cottage, James was working in his front garden. He came along to meet them.
"How are you getting along?" James asked Agatha.
"I'm all right now," said Agatha, fumbling for her house key. "I could have done with a friend right after it happened."
"Well, you know," said James easily, "I was really cross with you. You were a very silly woman. I told you it was Guy Freemont. But would you listen to me? No. He was obviously only having an affair with you so that you wouldn't suspect him."
Agatha found her key and unlocked the door. "Do you mind, James?" she said frostily. "We're busy."
He shrugged and turned and strode away.
Roy followed Agatha in. "It's time you found someone who valued you," he said.
"Okay." Agatha heaved a sigh. She suddenly just wanted to be alone. "When's your train?"
"I thought I'd get the four-fifteen."
"I'll run you to the station."
"You know, Agatha, you're wasting your talents. Pedmans has a new account."
Roy worked for Pedmans. "Oh, yes?" Agatha's voice was thin and suspicious but Roy ploughed on regardless.
"It's this soft drink called Healthbuzz, and the boss said you would be the very one to handle it. Where are you going?"
"I am going to phone for a taxi for you," said Agatha. "You didn't come here to offer me any comfort. You came here because your boss ordered you to!"
She went and phoned for a taxi.
Roy left, still protesting that he had really only come out of friendship.
The phone rang a few minutes afterwards. It was James. "Look, Agatha," he said, "it's silly, quarrelling like this. Why don't we meet for dinner?"
"AH right."
"I'll pick you up at eight."
Agatha sat down on a little chair by the phone and put her head in her hands. Why did she not feel either happy or excited?
The phone rang again, making her jump.
"Charles here," said an upper-class voice. Baronet, Sir Charles Fraith.
"Oh, Charles. How nice to hear from you," said Agatha.
"I've been on my travels. What about a spot of dinner tonight?"
Agatha opened her mouth to say she couldn't make it and then her face hardened and she found herself saying, "That would be nice."
"Where shall we meet?"
"You will come here at eight o'clock and pick me up, Charles," said Agatha firmly, "and when the bill for dinner is presented, you will not disappear to the Gents or say you forgot your wallet."
"You know me of old," laughed Charles. "See you at eight."
Agatha rang off and then phoned James. "I'm sorry I can't see you this evening," she said curtly. "I had forgotten, I have another arrangement. Goodbye, James." She firmly replaced the receiver.
So another dinner with someone younger, she thought, wearily dragging up the stairs to slap on anti-wrinkle cream.
James Lacey took up a position at the window of his cottage which overlooked the entrance to Agatha's. At eight o'clock, he saw Sir Charles Fraith arrive.
Well, that's that,, he thought bitterly. He had planned to explain to Agatha over dinner that he was tired of their quarrels and that he wanted them to get back together again.
But she didn't deserve him, flirting around like a tart!
The fact that Agatha Raisin did not have telepathic powers, never crossed his mind.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 76247e72-7ad6-4837-94a1-a4f1844af2f3
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 14.9.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.67, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
M.C. Beaton
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