Agatha Raisin And The Wellspring Of Death Part 20

She didn't want to be alone. Roy would surely come running if she asked him.

Roy came on the phone. "Changed your mind about the water company, Aggie?"

"What?"

"I mean, are you going to go on working for them after all?"

"No."

"So is this just a friendly chat?"

"I wondered whether you would like to come down for the weekend?"

Roy had been invited to a barbecue on Sat.u.r.day by his boss and he was not going to turn down such an important invitation, particularly as the boss had a marriageable daughter.

"Sorry, sweetie, too busy. Maybe another time."

"Yes. Bye."

Agatha sat staring at the phone. She wondered if she should pack a suitcase herself, drive to Heathrow and get on the first available plane out to anywhere.

The phone rang. Agatha picked it up cautiously, as if the receiver might bite.

"Agatha!" It was Guy's voice. "I really miss you. What about dinner on Sat.u.r.day?"

"I don't know..."

"Come on. It would be nice to see you again. That French restaurant in Mircester. What about it? I could pick you up at eight."

"All right," said Agatha, thinking as she said goodbye and replaced the receiver, what the h.e.l.l, n.o.body else wants me.

By Friday, Agatha was feeling calmer. Some healthy walks and a comfortable meeting of the Ca.r.s.ely Ladies' Society did much to restore her equanimity, that and the news that Mrs Dairy had gone on holiday.

By late on Friday evening she had decided to cancel her date with Guy. She was just reaching for the phone when it rang. She picked it up gingerly, all her old fears coming back.

"This is Portia Salmond," said a cool voice. "I think we should talk."

"So talk."

"I don't want to talk over the phone. Can you come here?"

"Where's here?"

"I live at 5 Glebe Street. It's near the abbey in Mircester."

"I know it. Why now? It's late."

"It won't take long."

Curiosity overcame Agatha. "Give me half an hour."

She drove through the quiet night-time lanes and then down the A44 to the Fosse. There was a chill in the air. Summer had gone.

She wondered if James had ever taken Portia out for dinner. That was what she really wanted to find out.

Glebe Street was narrow and cobbled and dark. A sliver of moon hung in the sky at the end of the street and the great btdk of the abbey loomed over the houses on the left.

Great English abbeys and minsters always reminded Agatha more of the power of the state, the crown and the army than the power of G.o.d.

She parked the car. Number 5 was a trim little house, like a mews house.

The lights were on behind the windows.

Agatha knocked on the pretentious bra.s.s knocker in the shape of a grinning demon.

There was a clack of high heels from the other side of the door and then Portia opened it, the light from the hall shining on her blonde hair.

"Come in, Mrs Raisin."

She led the way into a small living-room done in shades of green: green carpet, green-and-gold curtains, green linen-fabric upholstery on the sofa and two armchairs. On the walls were various photographs of Portia.

"Sit down," said Portia abruptly. "I want to get this over with."

"Okay. Let's have it."

"I am having an affair with Guy Freemont," said Portia.

"Really?" Agatha wondered why she didn't feel more surprised.

"Yes, really. He is only amusing himself with you. I think he's got a mother complex. I want you to back off."

"Are you engaged, married?"

"No."

"Then what's it got to do with you, sweetheart?"

"You are making a laughing-stock of yourself. Everyone is laughing at you. Someone at the office said the other day, 'Who's that old woman I saw with Guy the other night? His mother?'"

Agatha stood up. Her legs felt like lead. She felt unutterably weary. She looked down at Portia.

"Get stuffed, you dreary bag," said Agatha. "Get double stuffed. And you think you could do my job in public relations? Well, you can't sleep your way into column inches. It's been tried by s.l.u.ts like you and it doesn't work. Don't ever phone me or speak to me again."

She marched to the door. Portia followed her and caught her arm. "He's seeing you for dinner tomorrow. Don't go!"

"Get off!" Agatha rammed her elbow into Portia's ribs, jerked open the door and unlocked her car.

"I'm warning you!" screamed Portia.

"Join the queue, darling." Agatha got into the car and drove off, her hands damp on the steering-wheel. This case had been too much for her. But she was going on that date with Guy. That blonde b.i.t.c.h was not going to tell such as Agatha Raisin what she could or could not do!

Nine.

The following morning, Bill Wong called on Agatha. He looked depressed and weary.

"How did you get on with Mary Owen?" asked Agatha.

"She denied everything. She said your accusation was fantastic and she thought you deranged. I won't repeat the rest of the insults."

"This case is getting you down."

"It's not just the case, Agatha. It's Sharon."

"Oh."

"At first she said she couldn't go out with me because her mother was visiting or her hair needed washing or things like that, so I asked her straight out if we were finished and she said yes. I don't know what happened. We were getting on so well together."

Agatha took a deep breath. "Bill, do you think your mother frightened her off?"

"Mum? How?"

"Well, by talking about marriage and about Sharon and you living with them."

"Why would that frighten her off?"

"Bill, no woman wants to live with the in-laws, no matter how nice they are."

"But Sharon would have said something."

"Not necessarily. You hadn't even proposed to her. She might think she was being hustled towards marriage."

He buried his hands in his thick dark hair. "I never thought of that."

Agatha shook her head. Bill was highly intelligent when it came to police work but when it came to dealing with women, he was as thick as two planks.

"Anyway, enough of my love life. What about yours?"

"A mess. James has taken off again and I think it's because he antic.i.p.ated trouble from Mary Owen and her sister, so he cleared off, leaving me to deal with any trouble on my own."

"That doesn't sound like James."

"That's very like James. He did the same thing to me in Cyprus. So I'm seeing Guy Freemont this evening and now I don't really want to see him. It was Portia warning me off..."

"Portia? Portia Salmond, the secretary?"

"The same. She said she was having an affair with Guy."

"Messy. Do you really fancy Guy?"

Agatha sighed. "Only when my ego is battered, as it is now. I'm flattered that a younger man, a handsome man, should want my company. But I don't think I want to be seen out with him, I feel so battered. I think I'll run over to Marks and Spencer in Cheltenham and get something and have a meal here."

"Hasn't he booked a table at some restaurant?"

"If he has, he can cancel it. I want peace and privacy to tell him that the affair is over."

"So you were having an affair!"

"Does that shock you?"

"No. No I suppose not. I suppose it's because we're friends, I never think of you in that way." Bill laughed. "Rather like finding out one's mother is having an affair."

A picture of Bill's sour mother rose before Agatha's eyes. She wondered whether it would not be better to forget about love and romance, to forget about dieting and the beautician and get fat and frumpy and wear large tentlike dresses and eat everything smothered in double cream.

She suddenly wished that Roy would change his mind and come down. She would cancel her date and they would both go out on an eating binge.

"Ever find that cat?"

"No, no white Persians anywhere."

Agatha rested her chin on her hands. "I've been thinking about all of them, the parish councillors. At first it seemed incredible that any one of such a bunch of worthy citizens should commit murder, but once you start sc.r.a.ping below the surface, there's all these resentments and jealousies and pa.s.sions. Find out anything about where Robina got her notes typed?"

"No, we've hit a dead end on that one as well."

"I'm really beginning to think it was Andy Stiggs."

"The vice-chairman. Why him?"

"He seems a violent man. He had a life-long resentment against Robert Struthers because Strufhers married the love of his life and Andy married a shrew on the rebound and blamed Robert for that. Then he really hated the idea of the water company, and furthermore he thought he ought to have been chairman."

"We've got nothing on him. That's the trouble with this lot. There's nothing in any of their backgrounds that points to the character of a murderer."

"There is Mary Owen, however, paying that group to make trouble."

"She's certainly a nasty piece of work."

"They're all nasty," said Agatha. "In fact, I have endured so many threats and insults that you'll be glad to learn that I am not going to do any more investigating."

"Now, that's sensible, Agatha. The police may seem to be moving very slowly, but we're thorough and we'll get there in the end. Although I must admit I'm tired and I'm taking the rest of the day off."

Agatha drove into Cheltenham and bought food for dinner: salmon mousse for a starter, duckling in orange sauce-check the packet to make sure it could go in the microwave-and sticky toffee pudding. She also bought some microwavable vegetables and a packet of potatoes in a cheese sauce. She wasn't quite sure whether potatoes au gratin went with duckling in orange sauce, but she did not feel like buying real ones.

She then loaded the groceries in her car and walked back along the Promenade, looking in the expensive boutiques, hoping to spy some dress which would miraculously take years off her, but without success.