by M C Beaton
"Here comes the surgeon now," said Bill.
"Mr Marshall has suffered a concussion," he said. "He must have a very strong head. There is no sign of brain damage."
"I would like to try to have a word with him," said Bill.
"Make it short. He'll need a lot of rest."
Agatha made to follow Bill. The surgeon barred her way. "Who are you?"
"His boss."
"Then I cannot allow you to go in. I have to allow the police, but after that only family will be allowed in to see him."
Deaf to Agatha's protests, he led Bill away.
"Oh, God," prayed Agatha. "Let him be all right."
"Didn't think you believed in God," said Charles.
"It's just an expression," said Agatha. "I think I'm an atheist."
"Do you know the definition of an atheist?"
"No."
"An atheist," said Charles, "is someone without any invisible means of support."
"Oh, ha bloody ha."
Bill was gone only ten minutes. "He's very weak," he said. "But he told me that according to Doris Crampton, everyone seemed to know that Fred often nicked a bottle of wine. I'm going back to pull her in for impeding the police in their inquiries. Agatha, pull your staff off the case for at least a week because we will now be doing door-to-door inquiries in that hellhole of a village."
"Are you going to obey him?" asked Charles as Agatha drove them back to her cottage.
"I do think I'll leave it all alone for a few days. Alison had nothing of any interest to tell me. Besides, the place is crawling with press."
"I might trot along there tomorrow and blend with the locals."
"You!"
"I'll go in disguise."
"Remember the Crampton sisters have had a look at you. And that posh accent of yours will give you away."
"I'll have you know I can talk mangelwurzel with the best of them."
"Charles, look what happened to Phil. I don't want anything like that happening to you."
"Dear me. Our Aggie actually has a heart!"
Charles, wearing some of his undergardener's clothes and a flat cap, and with his face and hands stained brown and a straggly moustache pasted to his upper lip, arrived in Lower Tapor at lunchtime the following day.
The pub was quite full when he entered. Silence fell as everyone turned to survey the newcomer.
Charles made his way to the bar. "Pint o' Hook Norton," he ordered. There was no sign of Paul Chambers. His pint was pulled for him by the gypsy-looking Elsie.
Charles turned round and saw a small table with one chair over by the window. He took his pint over and sat down. He took out a packet of tobacco and rolled himself a cigarette. And waited.
He guessed that curiosity would soon get the better of the locals.
Sure enough, after five minutes a thickset man came up and loomed over him.
"You're a stranger here."
Charles nodded.
"What you doin' here?"
"Mind yer own bizzness," said Charles.
This seemed to be a satisfactory reply. Charles had guessed that any sign of friendliness would be treated with suspicion.
The man pulled up a chair and joined him. "Had an accident, then?" he asked, nodding in the direction of Charles's hands. Charles had bandaged his hands to disguise the fact that they had never done any hard work at all.
"Yus."
"Terrible goin's-on in this village," said the man. Charles looked indifferent. "Yes, murders, that's what we're having. And it was them up at the manor that did it."
"Why you say that, then?" asked Charles.
"Cos they did. Wanted the old woman's money. Then Fred, he was the gardener, he got wise to them so they killed him as well."
Charles decided it was time to show some animation. "Reckon you must all be scared."
"Naw, they won't touch one o' us provided we keep our mouths shut. We got ways to protect ourselves."
"Like what?" asked Charles.
"Keith!" shouted Elsie from behind the bar. "You get right over here."
Charles's companion got reluctantly to his feet. Elsie leaned over the bar and hissed something at him. He left the pub quickly.
Deciding there wouldn't be much more to be found, Charles left. But he wondered about those ways of protection. Witchcraft?
Toni felt excited as she dressed in dark clothes on Saturday evening and then waited for George. She was sure they wouldn't find anything, but the outing would make her feel like a real detective, stalking and hiding in the bushes. George arrived on time. "This is my new flat," said Toni proudly.
"Where did you get the furniture?" asked George.
"Agatha bought it from the owner."
George looked at the battered sofa and scuffed chairs. "You could do better. I've got some bits and pieces in the attic. You could come over one day and have a look."
"That's very kind of you."
"So let's go on the witch hunt. I've been there already and I've found a good place where we can hide out and see what goes on at the top of that hill--if anything."
There was a glade at the top of the hill surrounded by trees. They hid in the bushes at the side. A full moon rose overhead.
Toni wanted to pass the time chatting but he whispered to her to be quiet because sounds in the countryside at night could carry very far.
By eleven-thirty, Toni was beginning to feel cramped and bored. Then they heard voices. Soon they heard people approaching up the hill.
Toni peered through the bushes and stifled a gasp. Paul Chambers was leading a small group of villagers into the grove. Elsie, the barmaid, was beside him.
At first it looked as if they had all come up for a picnic. Sandwiches and bottles were passed around. Then, just before midnight, Paul said, "It's time."
They all began to undress until they were stark naked. A CD of some oriental music began to play. They all joined hands in a circle and began to dance. Paul had a good figure but the rest had sagging rolls of white fat. Flaccid breasts jiggled, sagging buttocks rolled. Toni could feel laughter bubbling up inside her. She pressed a hand to her mouth. At last she could not contain herself any longer and let out a burst of laughter.
"That's torn it," said George. He grabbed her hand. "Crouch down and run."
Doubled up, they raced through the undergrowth until George pulled up short. "Wrong way," he said. They were standing on the lip of a disused quarry. "Back into those bushes over there and hope they don't find us," said George.
They lay down flat under the bushes. Toni felt the beating of her heart was so loud that the pursuers must surely hear it.
Then they heard Chambers's voice: "I'll swear they came this way," and Elsie's reply, "Probably kids."
In the clear moonlight, George could see Paul and Elsie standing on the lip of the quarry. Both were still naked.
"Forget about them, darlin'," said Elsie. "Let's have some fun."
"Leave me alone, you silly tart. This is serious."
"What did you call me?"
"I said you were a silly tart and that's all you are."
"You said you'd marry me."
"Oh, not again. The things I say in bed. Forget it."
In front of Toni's and George's horrified eyes, Elsie gave Paul an enormous push in his back and he stumbled forward and fell over the quarry. He screamed as he went down and then there was no sound at all.
Elsie peered over the quarry and then turned and ran away.
George could feel Toni shaking and put an arm around her. "Hold on," he said. "I'll get the police."
Agatha was awakened the following morning by the shrill, insistent clamour of her doorbell.
She glanced at her bedside clock. Six in the morning!
She struggled out of bed, wrapped herself in a dressing gown and went downstairs. Agatha opened the door and found a white-faced Toni and a tall man she did not recognize.
"It's terrible," said Toni. "Paul Chambers has been murdered."
<
br /> "Come in," said Agatha. And to George, "Who are you?"
"I'm George Pyson, the factor for Mrs Tamworthy's estate."
She led them into the kitchen. "Sit down. Toni, what's been going on?"
Toni turned to George. "You tell her."
So George told the tale of the witch-hunt and then how Elsie had shoved Paul into the quarry. "He broke his neck in the fall," he ended.
"Toni," said Agatha, "you should have told me about this."
"We didn't have any hard facts," said George. "We just went on the off chance."
Agatha's eyes were suddenly hard. She surveyed George. "How old are you?"
"I am thirty-three and no, I do not have designs on your young detective."
"We're friends," said Toni, and George smiled at her.
"I'll make us coffee," said Agatha. "I don't suppose either of you have had any sleep."
"No," said Toni. She stifled a yawn. "That Collins woman interviewed me all night."
"The good thing is," said Agatha over her shoulder as she plugged in the percolator, "you won't have to turn up in court for Paul Chambers's trial. The bad thing is that Lower Tapor will now be crammed with the world's press. Murder and witchcraft in an English village! Toni, you'd better rest up today. That should keep you out of harm's way."
At that moment, Charles ambled into the kitchen. Agatha told him about the latest murder.
"Chambers is no great loss," said Charles callously. "Good for you, Toni."
"I feel it's all my fault," said Toni. "It was when I saw them all dancing around naked that I began to laugh. All that loose white fat jiggling about. That's why we ran to the quarry and hid in the bushes and that's why Paul and Elsie followed us there."
Agatha scowled into her coffee cup. She could feel a treacherous roll of fat at her midriff. Oh, to be as young as Toni. "With all the press that are going to be around," she said, "we'd all better keep clear of the manor until the fuss dies down. But I hate to leave it alone."
"I wonder if she made any enemies in her past," said George. "I mean, look at the way she treated her own children. Maybe there's someone she crossed before."
Agatha brightened. "That's a good idea." Then she suddenly looked full at George, said a hurried "Excuse me," and rushed up the stairs.
"Gone to grout her face," said Charles.
Sure enough, Agatha reappeared fifteen minutes later with her face made up.
Toni gave a massive yawn and knuckled her eyes.
"Come on, young lady," said George. "Time I got you home."
When they had left, Charles helped himself to one of Agatha's cigarettes. "What goes on there?" he asked.
"Nothing. He's too old for her."
"And too young for you," murmured Charles.
"I'm going back to sleep," said Agatha. She had been roused from a glorious dream of Christmas, complete with James smiling down at her, and she wanted to see if she could recapture it.
"Now you've got to take all that make-up off again," Charles called after her.
But Agatha pretended not to hear.
George drove Toni to her flat. He turned to her and said, "Get some sleep and don't answer the phone or the doorbell. If the police want to interview either of us again, they can just wait until Monday morning."
Toni thanked him and then hesitated, waiting for him to say something else. But he climbed out and went round and held the car door open for her.
"Bye," said Toni and went inside.
In her flat she undressed, took a shower and climbed into her narrow bed. He hadn't said anything about seeing her again. Maybe she wasn't posh enough. It wasn't as if she were romantically interested in him. He was too old.
She slept all day and awoke feeling refreshed, but wondering if she would get any more sleep that night. Toni decided to drop in at the Tammy Club. It seemed ages since she had gone clubbing and she wanted to be among people her own age.
There had been protests about the club being open on Sundays, but somehow it managed to survive the complaints.
Toni entered and breathed in the old familiar smell of alcohol and pot. Strobe lights were flashing across the floor where dancers gyrated to the loud beat of the music.
"Hi! Look, folks, it's Tone," called a girl.
Toni was soon surrounded by some of her exschool friends. One of them, Karen, shouted above the music, "Heard you was a tec."
Toni nodded in reply. The music suddenly finished and the DJ said, "Taking five minutes out, folks."
"Let's get a drink," said Karen.
They all moved to the bar. They pressed Toni to talk about her work, but Toni did not feel like going into details. "What's the talent like?" she asked.
A thin spotty girl called Laura said, "You haven't met the latest dreamboat. His name's Rex"
"Sounds like a dog or a cinema," said Toni. "Look, that's him over there." Laura pointed to where a young man was slouched at the end of the bar. He was wearing a black leather jacket over his bare chest and leather trousers. His black hair was gelled into spikes. He had a stud below his bottom lip. His face was very white and he had heavy black eyebrows and designer stubble.
Toni suddenly felt a wave of isolation. Not so long ago, she might have found Rex attractive. But not now. She listened to the chatter of her former friends and felt she was looking at them through the wrong end of a telescope. The music started up again.
"Gotta go," muttered Toni and she headed towards the door and out into the night. She took great gulps of fresh air. Maybe after a week or two, she would go back to the club, but at the moment she felt caught somewhere between the youth of her former school friends and what she thought of as the 'old folks' at the detective agency.
Agatha kept clear of the manor house for a week. She knew it would be impossible to move freely with press and police swarming all over the place. Other cases had to be dealt with. She missed Toni, who was taking driving lessons, interrupted by police interviews.
After work she prowled the supermarkets because they were already selling Christmas decorations, wondering which ones would look best. She ordered a turkey from a Norfolk farm, to be delivered ten days before Christmas. She ordered a new cooker with an oven large enough for the bird to fit into.
Charles had disappeared back to his home, promising to return the following week.
On Friday evening Bill Wong called on her at her cottage. He looked tired. "We're getting nowhere. Elsie has been arrested, of course, but nothing about the murder at the manor or who killed that poor old man."
"This factor, George Pyson," said Agatha, "anything odd about him?"
"Highly respectable, by all accounts."
"Married?"
"He was, but his wife died of cancer five years ago. No children. Why are you interested in him?"
"I think he's interested in young Toni and he's too old for her."
"I sat in on the interviews with Toni. I would say that young lady is older than her years. Very sensible. I wouldn't worry about her."
"You've interviewed all of them at the manor house," said Agatha. "Can you think of any one of them that might have done it?"
"I've thought and thought. And the more I think about it, I'm amazed that with such a mother they've all turned out sane. Now, the people in the village with their damned witchcraft, it's beginning to seem more and more likely that one or several of them might have conspired to murder her."
"I can't see them doing that," said Agatha.
"Why?"
"She charged them low rents. With her gone, ten to one the family or whoever they sell the estate to will jack up the rents. Where was Mrs Tamworthy brought up?"
"I don't know. You'll need to ask one of the family. Why?"
"Maybe it was someone out of her past."
"If you find out anything, let me know."
On Saturday evening Toni was walking along the street to her flat, elated at having got her driving licence, when she felt her arm seized. She swung round. Her brother's b
eery face was thrust into her own. "You're coming home, now," he said.
"Leave me alone," howled Toni. People scurried past them, averting their eyes. No one wanted to get involved. These days, villains were apt to sue the rescuer for assault.
Toni kicked and struggled but Terry was much stronger. A battered Land Rover came along the street and stopped abruptly. George Pyson jumped down.
"Leave her alone this minute," he shouted at Terry.
"Piss off, you posh git," snarled Terry. "This here's a family matter."
George seized Terry's arm and twisted it up his back. Terry howled in pain.
"Who is this?" asked George.
"My brother," gasped Toni, breaking free. "He's trying to get me to go home and I don't want ever to go there again."
"Are you going to go quietly?" asked George, giving Terry's arm a painful wrench.
"You're breaking me arm! Yes. Let me go." George released him and Terry ran off down the street.
Toni said in a low voice, "Thanks." He won't want to know me now, she thought, coming from my sort of family.
But George said, "Let's go for a drink. I only caught glimpses of you at police headquarters when I was being grilled in one room and you in another. I'd better move the car. It's blocking the street." A volley of horns bore witness to this. They both climbed into the Land Rover and George drove off.
"I'll just park in the square and we'll go to the nearest pub and you can tell me about your driving lessons."
"I passed today," said Toni. "I'm still a bag of nerves."
In the pub he asked her to tell him why she had left home and listened while Toni recounted how Agatha had come to her rescue.
"And your mother?" he asked. "Any chance of getting her into a rehab?"
"Rehabs cost a lot of money."
"They take a few National Health patients. Her doctor could put her name down. She may have to wait but it would be better than nothing."
"She's hardly ever sober enough to listen to me. Maybe I'll try when Terry's not around." Toni eyed him covertly, wondering whether he was coming on to her, but after she had finished her drink, he said briskly, "Right, young lady, let's get you home."