Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist
Page 10
“Nonetheless…”
“Nor is he magician enough to stand outside the car-park when he was already inside it and throw a rock at me.”
“Besides,” jeered James, “he’s a baronet, so he couldn’t possibly do anything wrong, could he, dearest?”
Pamir ’s black fathomless eyes flicked from one angry face to the other.
“Ah, jealousy,” he said. “What were you doing, Mr. Lacey, when all this was going on?”
“I was in Nicosia,” said James curtly.
“Doing what?”
James flashed Agatha a warning look. “Shopping.”
“Where? Which shops?”
“I haven’t any warm clothes with me and so I bought a couple of sweaters. I’ll probably still be here when the cold weather sets in.”
“Let me see.”
James went over to the kitchen counter and came back with a plastic bag. “You will find two sweaters in it and the receipt showing they were purchased today.”
“And that was all you did?”
“I went to the Mevlevi Tekke Museum near the Kyrenia Gate, had a look around and then came back here. I came back two hours before you arrived.”
Pamir turned and questioned Agatha again, taking her through her whole story, making various notes. Then at last he stood up.
“I would advise you to be careful, Mrs. Raisin. It would be as well if you kept away from the other suspects until this murder is solved.”
“I can’t be a suspect,” said Agatha. “Someone’s been trying to kill me.”
“Ah, if I were a cynical man, which I am not, I might say there is no evidence of that, only your word.”
“But the rock!”
“As I say, that could have been children. I will be talking to you soon.”
James saw him out. When he returned to the kitchen, Agatha said, “Before you start jeering about baronets: Like I told Pamir, I went to look for the others, heard they’d gone to Bellapais, and took Charles’s offer. I’m tired. Right now I want to forget about the whole thing. Maybe you’d better investigate on your own. Charles blew it for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“Charles told them I wasn’t investigating anything. He called them a dreary, poisonous bunch of people.”
James smiled for the first time. “And so they are. I wouldn’t let that stop you. For some reason the Debenhams are staying friends with Trevor and Angus when they would, in ordinary circumstances, walk on the other side of the road if they saw them coming. You’ve only to show up and smile and apologize for Charles’s outburst and they’ll be all over you like a rash. Why didn’t you come back earlier?”
“I was shaken and hungry and I decided to take up Charles’s offer of lunch, only he turned it into my offer by skating off to the toilet when the bill arrived. He’s a cheapskate.”
James smiled again. “You’ll know to keep clear of him in future.”
“So what did you really get up to in Nicosia?”
“That’s my business. I don’t want you interfering in it.”
“All I’ve heard today is ‘stop interfering,’” said Agatha. “I’m going to have a bath.”
“There’s water,” said James, “and when you’ve had it, have a rest and then we’ll go and make friends with our suspects.”
“Are we going to confront Trevor with the fact we know he inherits-or probably inherits-Rose’s money?”
“Not yet. No point in driving them away from us. We’ll go along and charm them later.”
Agatha lay in the bath and stared up at the louvered window above it through which came the roaring sound of the Mediterranean. The events of the day remembered seemed small and bright and not quite real, as if they were all something she had seen in a film.
She was suddenly engulfed in a wave of homesickness. In Carsely she would have had her support group of friends: Mrs. Bloxby, Bill Wong and the members of the Carsely Ladies Society. The trees would be beginning to turn red and gold and the roads around the village would be full of pheasants who seemed well aware that the shooting season had not yet begun. She missed her cats. She hoped Doris Simpson was looking after them properly.
Above, all, she wanted to get away from James. The therapy-speakers would ask, “Why are you letting someone live rent-free in your head?” Well, the plain answer to that was that she still liked the lodger. She thought briefly of Charles and then her mind winced away from him.
She climbed out of the deep bath and dried herself. In the bedroom, she switched on the radio in her room, which was tuned to a local English-speaking station which played records. Then the remorselessly bright DJ, a woman with a nasal Essex voice, sang along with the records in a flat monotone, and the records were mostly rap. But as Agatha reached out to switch it off, the music died away and an interview with some member of the north Cyprus National Trust was announced. Agatha decided to listen while she chose something glamorous for the evening ahead. She picked up a little black dress and held it against her. Black could be very ageing. A well-modulated English voice on the radio was talking about snakes, explaining that the poisonous snakes were in the mountains and the harmless snakes at the coast. “But,” went on the voice, “the other day I found one of those harmless snakes in my kitchen sink in Kyrenia. I decided just to leave it and after some time it emerged with a rat in its mouth, which all goes to show you what useful creatures snakes are.”
Lady, I wouldn’t even have a cup of tea in your kitchen, thought Agatha with a shudder.
She tried on the black dress. It was a simple sheath and short enough to show plenty of leg. Perhaps some gold jewellery to brighten it up? Agatha sat down and carefully made up her face in her “fright” mirror, one of those magnifying ones which showed every pore. Then she walked through the bathroom and into James’s room where there was a long mirror. Her make-up looked like a thick beige mask and the dress was a mistake. She went into the bathroom and scrubbed off her make-up. Time to start again.
It was only when James shouted up the stairs, “Agatha, are you ready?” that Agatha at last made up her mind what to wear. She put on a white satin blouse and a black pleated skirt, high heels and restrained make-up, and hung some gold chains round her neck. Not exciting, but all she could think of in the final rush.
“I think we should take both cars,” she said when she joined James, who was waiting impatiently.
“Why?”
“In case we have to split up for some reason.”
“You mean, in case you go off with Charles.”
“Don’t be so silly.”
“It was a practical observation based on events, Agatha.”
Agatha felt herself beginning to blush, but she said, “I have no intention of going off with Charles But something may happen-we may become separated.”
“I don’t want to stand here arguing all night. Take your own bloody car if you want!”
They both left the villa in angry silence and went to their respective cars.
When Agatha got to the end of the road, she saw the petrol gauge was registering empty and so turned right towards Lapta to the nearest garage, instead of left towards Kyrenia. Two huge trucks were blocking the petrol pumps and she had to wait patiently until one of them left. Then she found, because she had taken a smaller bag for evening rather than the large one she usually carried, that she had left all her money back at the villa. She explained, apologized and hurried back to find some money. Then, when she got back to the garage, the proprietor was on the phone and so she had to wait again until he had finished his call. She paid and set out on the road to Kyrenia.
Somehow the homesickness she had felt earlier would not leave her. She longed to be driving down the winding country lanes that led to Carsely, to her thatched cottage, to all the comforts of home. She was almost beginning to dislike James, and yet somehow that craving for love from him would not go away. She hit the steering wheel angrily with her hand. “I wish he would die” she said out loud.
“I’m sorry,” said Agatha, who had just got out. “I’ll move it.”
The man smiled, showing gold teeth. “No problem,” he said cheerfully.
How easygoing they were, marvelled Agatha. If someone drove up on the pavement and blocked my gateway back home, I’d give them a mouthful and call the police.
Bert Mort, the Israeli business man, was just checking out of the hotel when Agatha arrived. He threw her a guilty look.
“Where is your wife?” asked Agatha sweetly.
“Gone back home ahead of me. Look, Agatha, I’m truly sorry.”
Agatha relented. “What puzzles me, Bert, is how you could even look at an old bag like me with such a gorgeous wife.”
He gave a rueful smile. “Don’t put yourself down, Agatha. You’ve got great legs.”
“Agatha!” James stood there, glowering.
“Coming,” said Agatha meekly. “Goodbye, Bert. Safe journey.”
“They’re in the bar,” said James. “I thought we should approach them together.”
They walked through the lounge and towards the bar. “I feel nervous,” said Agatha.
“Just think of your great legs and you’ll feel better,” said James acidly.
Agatha bit back an angry reply, for they had now reached the entrance to the bar.
Olivia gave them a bleak look, Trevor looked surly and angry, and George Debenham put a protective arm around his wife’s shoulders as if to guard her from attack.
“I’m right surprised to see you here,” said Angus accusingly and Harry nodded in agreement.
“I owe you all an apology,” said Agatha humbly. “I was upset and Charles had heard you having a go at me, Trevor, and he was angry. But I don’t know Charles very well and I am not responsible for his remarks. I wouldn’t hurt any of you for the world.”
“It’s all right, Agatha,” said Olivia with a sudden warm smile. “We’re all rattled by this business and they are still holding the body and poor old Trevor can’t get on with the funeral arrangements.”
“Sit down and join us,” said George “Drink?”
That was easy, almost too easy, thought Agatha, but glad that her apology was over, she ordered a gin and tonic; James ordered a brandy sour.
“The reason we came looking for you,” said James, “was that Agatha wanted to take you all out for dinner.”
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 Hilarión?”
“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 Hilarión 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, ümit, 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.