Mrs Wong rounded on him. 'You call last summer nice? Did you hear that, Father? He called last summer nice?7 'Some people/ muttered Mr Wong, taking more cauliflower.

'So hot, it nearly brought on one of my turns/ said Mrs Wong. 'Didn't it nearly, Father?'

'That's for sure.'

Silence.

Til get the pudding/ said Bill.

'Sit down/ said his mother. 'These are your guests. I told you I wanted to watch that quiz on the telly, but you would have them/ Soon bowls of stewed apples and custard were banged in front of them. I want to go home, thought Agatha . . . Oh, please G.o.d, let this evening be over quickly.

Take them through to the lounge/ said Mrs Wong when the dreadful meal was over. Til bring the coffee/ 'You really must show me your garden/ said James. I'm very interested in gardens/ 'We're not going out in the evening air to catch our deaths/ said Mrs Wong, looking outraged. 'Are we, Father?'

'Funny thing to suggest/ said Mr Wong.

To Agatha's and James's relief, they had only 103.

Bill for company over coffee. Tm so glad you could come/ said Bill. Tm really proud of my home. Ma's made quite a little palace out of it/ 'Really cosy/ lied Agatha. 'Bill, are you sure there is nothing odd about Bladen's death?'

'Nothing that anyone could find/ he said. He looked amused. 'You two have been sleuthing/ 'Just asking around/ said Agatha. 'Bill, do you mind if I have a cigarette?'

'I don't, but Ma would kill you. Come out into the back garden and have one there/ They followed him out into the garden. James let out a gasp. It was beautifully laid out. A cl.u.s.ter of cherry trees at the bottom raised white-and-pink branches to the evening sky. A wisteria just beginning to show its first leaves coiled over the kitchen door. 'This is my patch/ said Bill. 'Makes a change from policing/ James marvelled that Bill, who obviously had such an eye for beauty, could see nothing wrong with his parents' home. Agatha wondered how Bill could have such admiration and affection for such a dreary couple and then decided she admired him for it.

James was becoming happy and animated as he discussed plants and Agatha thought again of her own neglected garden and decided that if this investigation fell through, then gardening might be a subject they would have in common. By the time they returned to the dreadful lounge for more horrible coffee served in doll's cups 104.

which Mrs Wong called her best 'demytess', the three were at ease with each other.

'I like to return hospitality/ said Bill to James. Tm always dropping in to Agatha's for a coffee, but she's never been here. Now you know the road, you're welcome to come any time/ 'Have you moved here recently?' asked James.

'Last year/ said Bill proudly. 'Dad's got this dry-cleaning business in Mircester and he's really built it up. Yes, we're moving up in the world.' His good nature seemed to transform his home into the palace he thought it to be and Agatha and James thanked Mrs Wong very warmly for her hospitality before they finally left.

'It will be a cold day in h.e.l.l before I go back there again/ said Agatha, as they drove off.

'Yes, I'm still hungry. I cut up that beef and pushed it under the vegetables to make it look as if I'd eaten it/ said James. 'We'll stop somewhere for a drink and a sandwich.' He said this almost absent-mindedly, as if to an old friend, taking her acceptance for granted, and Agatha felt so ridiculously happy, she thought she might cry.

Over beer and sandwiches, they decided to continue their investigations the next day. 'What about Miss Mabbs?' asked Agatha suddenly. 'Look, we know Bladen was a womanizer. Miss Mabbs was that pallid female who worked as receptionist. What of her? She must have known 105.

all about the operation on that horse. I wonder where she is now?'

'We'll find her tomorrow. You can smoke if you like.'

1 feel like an endangered species/ said Agatha, lighting up. 'People are becoming so militant about smokers.'

'They're puritans/ said James. 'Who was it said that the reason the puritans were against bear-baiting was not because it gave pain to the bear but because it gave pleasure to the crowd?'

'I don't know. But I should give it up.'

'Bill said an odd thing when we were leaving/ said James. 'He said, "Don't go about stirring up muck or you may promote a real murder." '

'Oh, he was joking. He's a great one for jokes/ 106.

Chapter Five.

Agatha would have been most surprised if anyone had called her a romantic. She considered herself hard-headed and practical. So she did not realize the folly of wild dreams and fantasies.

In her mind, since she had said goodbye to him the evening before, she was married to James Lacey, and most of her dreams had been of a pa.s.sionate honeymoon, and the lovely thing about dreams is that one can write the script, and James said beautiful and loverlike things.

So Agatha, next morning, forgot all her plans of being cool and detached. James had said he would call for her around noon and that they might have a bite to eat in the pub before trying to find out what had become of Miss Mabbs.

Agatha decided to make a romantic lunch. So when James turned up on her doorstep, he shied nervously before an Agatha in a low-cut blouse, tight skirt and very high heels, who was glowing at him. He fidgeted nervously in the hall as she waved a hand in the direction of the dining- 107.

room and said she'd thought they may as well have lunch at her place.

Through the open door of the dining-room, James saw the table set with fine china and crystal and candles burning in tall holders - candles in the middle of the day!

Panic set in. He backed out of the door. 'Actually, I came to apologize/ he said. 'Something's come up. Can't make it.' And he turned and fled.

Agatha could practically hear the ruins of her dreams tumbling about her ears, brick by brick. Red with shame, she blew out the candles, put the china away, went upstairs, scrubbed off her thick make-up and put on a comfortable old dress like a sack, thrust her feet into slippers and shuffled back down to stare at the soaps on television and try not to brood on her gaffe.

She had had a nearly sleepless night and so she dozed off in front of the television set with the cats on her lap, waking an hour later at the sound of the doorbell.

She hoped he had come back - if only he would come back! - but it was Mrs Bloxby, the vicar's wife, who stood there.

'I was just pa.s.sing,' said Mrs Bloxby, 'and wondered whether you remembered that the Ca.r.s.ely Ladies are having a meeting tonight.' For a moment, something unlovely darted through Agatha's eyes. She was thinking, Screw the Ca.r.s.ely Ladies.

108.

'I do hope you will come/ said Mrs Bloxby. 'Our newcomer, Mrs Huntingdon, is going to be there, and Miss Webster, who has the shop. We expect quite a crowd. And Miss Simms is bringing along some of her home-made cider, so I thought we would have cheese and biscuits with that/ Agatha realized Mrs Bloxby was still standing on the doorstep and said, 'Do come in/ 'No, I'd better get home. My husband is wrestling with a tricky sermon/ So this is what life has come down to, thought Agatha gloomily; another evening with the ladies. Even the knowledge that Mrs Huntingdon was going to be there could not give Agatha enough energy to change out of her old dress.

But on her way to the vicarage, she remembered that Josephine Webster, she of the dried-flower shop, she who had admired the vet, was to be there. There was no James Lacey, but there was still the interest of amateur detection.

The vicarage sitting-room was full of chattering women. Mrs Bloxby handed Agatha a tankard of cider. 'Where is Miss Webster?' asked Agatha.

'Over there, by the piano/ 'Of course/ Agatha studied her with interest. She was a neat woman of indeterminate age, neat fair hair crisply permed, neat little features, neat little figure. Talking to her was Freda Huntingdon, who had not bothered to dress up 109.

either, Agatha noticed. Agatha did not want to interrupt their conversation. She took another pull at her tankard and blinked. The cider was very strong indeed. She found Miss Simms next to her. 'How did you get such powerful stuff?' she asked.

Miss Simms giggled and whispered in Agatha's ear. 'Let you into a secret. I thought I would spice it up a bit/ She waved her own tankard towards a firkin on a table. 'So I poured a bottle of vodka into it/ 'You'll get us all drunk/ said Agatha.

'Well, some of us need cheering up. Look at Mrs Josephs. She's looking better already. I thought she was going to go into mourning for that cat of hers forever/ Agatha sat down beside Mrs Josephs. 'Glad to see you looking better,' said Agatha politely.

'Oh, much better,' said the librarian in a tipsy voice. 'Revenge is mine/ 'Really?'

'I am to get what is rightfully mine/3 Agatha looked at her impatiently. 'What do you mean?'

'Silence, ladies,' called Mrs Mason. 'Our meeting is about to begin/ 'Call on me at ten tomorrow,' said Mrs Josephs loudly, 'and I'll tell you all about Paul Bladen/ 'Shrth!' admonished Mrs Bloxby.

Agatha waited restlessly while the proceedings dragged on. But before they were finished, 110.

Mrs Josephs suddenly got up and left. Agatha shrugged and approached Miss Webster. 1 saw you at Paul Bladen's funeral/ she said.

'I didn't know you were a friend of his/ said Miss Webster.

'Not exactly a friend/ said Agatha, 'but I felt I should pay my respects. You must have been very sorry to lose him/ 'On the contrary/ said Miss Webster, 1 went to make sure he was really dead. Now, if you will excuse me, Miss . . .?'

'Mrs Raisin.'

'Mrs Raisin. I find all these chattering women give me a headache.'

She got up abruptly and left the room. Curi-ouser and curiouser, thought Agatha. d.a.m.n James. All this was interesting stuff, hints here, hints there. She would call on him before she went to see Mrs Josephs.

James heard his doorbell at quarter to ten the following morning. Feeling like an old spinster, he twitched the front-room curtain and looked out. There was Agatha Raisin. That old feeling of being hunted came back again. He went through to his kitchen and sat there. The bell went on and on and then there was blessed silence.

Agatha stumped grumpily through the village. A car slid to a stop beside her and Bill Wong's 111.

cheerful face looked out. 'What's the matter, Agatha? Where's James?'

'Nothing's the matter, and where James Lacey is I neither know nor care.'

'Which means you've scared him off again/ commented Bill cheerfully.

'1 have done nothing of the kind, and for your information I am on my way to see Mrs Josephs, the librarian. She has something important to tell me about Paul Bladen's death.'

Bill gave a little sigh. 'Agatha, when there actually has been a murder, a lot of distasteful scandal usually comes to light which has nothing to do with the case. A lot of people get hurt. Now if you're going to dig around an English village trying to make an accident look like murder it will have the same effect, and without any justification. Drop it. Do good works. Go abroad again. Let Paul Bladen rest in peace.'

He drove off. Well, I may as well go, thought Agatha stubbornly. She'll be expecting me.

Mrs Josephs lived at the end of a terrace of what were once workers' cottages. Hers was neat and trim, with a pocket-sized garden where for-sythia spilled over the hedge into the road in a burst of golden glory. A blackbird sang on the roof. From a field above the village came the sound of a hunting horn, and as Agatha turned and looked up the hill, she saw the hunt streaming across a meadow, looking oddly out of perspective from her angle of vision.

112.

If Lord Pendlebury was part of the hunt, she hoped he broke his neck. And with that pious thought, she pushed open the small wrought-iron gate and walked up to the door and rang the bell. There was no reply. The sound of the hunt disappeared into the distance. A jet screamed above, tearing the pale spring sky apart with sound.

Agatha tried again, feeling almost weepy, wondering dismally if all the inhabitants of Ca.r.s.ely were going to hide behind their sofas when they saw her on the doorstep.

But Mrs Josephs had asked her to call. Mrs Josephs had no right to snub her. Agatha turned the handle of the front door. It opened easily. A small hall with a narrow stair leading straight up from it.

'Mrs Josephs!7 called Agatha.

The little house had thick walls, and silence pressed in on Agatha. She looked in the downstairs rooms, small parlour, small dining-room, and tiny cubicle of a kitchen at the back.

Agatha stood at the bottom of the stairs and shifted from foot to foot.

How sinister that dim staircase looked. Perhaps Mrs Josephs was ill. Emboldened by that thought, Agatha climbed the stairs. Bedroom on the right at the top, bed made, everything tidy. Box-room full of pathetic pieces of broken china and old furniture and dusty suitcases. No drama here.

113.

May as well use the bathroom while I'm here, thought Agatha. Oh, I know! She probably meant me to go to the library. What a fool I am! But how crazy to go out and leave the house unlocked. This must be the bathroom. She pushed open a door which had a pane of frosted gla.s.s.

Mrs Josephs was lying on the bathroom floor, her eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. Agatha let out a whimper. She forced herself to bend down, pick up an arm and feel the pulse. Nothing.

She turned and ran down the stairs, looking for the phone. She found one in the parlour and dialled police and ambulance.

The first to arrive was PC Fred Griggs, the village policeman. He looked like a village policeman in a children's story, large and red-faced.

'She's dead/ said Agatha. 'Upstairs. Bathroom.'

She followed the bulk of the policeman up the stairs. Fred looked sadly down at the body. 'You're right,' he said. 'Can tell by just looking at her. Mrs Josephs was a diabetic.'

'So it wasn't murder,' said Agatha.

'Now what put such an idea into your head?' His small eyes were shrewd.

'She said last night in front of everyone at the Ca.r.s.ely Ladies' Society that she had something to tell me about Paul Bladen.'

114.

'The vet what died! What's that got to do with the poor woman's death?'

'Nothing/ muttered Agatha. 'I think I'll wait outside/ As she went out into the garden again, she could hear the wail of sirens; and then an ambulance, followed by two police cars, came racing up. She recognized Detective Chief Inspector Wilkes and Bill Wong. There were two other detectives she did not know and a policewoman.

Bill said, 'Did you find her?' Agatha nodded dumbly. 'What time?'

'Ten o'clock/ said Agatha. 'I told you I was going to see her.'

'Go home/ said Bill. 'We'll be around to take a statement/ James Lacey stood on his doorstep, peering down the lane. He had heard the sirens. Ever since he had failed to answer the door to Agatha's ring, he had been staring at that heading 'Chapter Two' on his computer screen. Then he saw Agatha trailing along the lane. Her face was very white.

'What's happened?' he called, but she flapped a hand at him and said, 'Later.'

He felt frustrated. He felt that Agatha held the key to some excuse to take him away from writ- 115.

ing for the day. He should not have run away from her lunch like a schoolboy.

He returned to his machine and glared at it. Then he heard the sound of a car turning into the lane and dashed outside again. It was a police car. He watched eagerly as it drove up to Agatha's cottage and stopped. He recognized Bill Wong with another detective and a policewoman. They went inside.

He had brought it on himself, he thought gloomily. The wretched Raisin woman was on to something and he was excluded.

Inside her home, Agatha answered all questions put to her. How long had she been in Mrs Josephs's cottage? Just a few minutes? Had anyone seen her just before she arrived? Detective Wong. The Chief Inspector nodded, as though Bill had already confirmed that.

'What did she die of?' asked Agatha.

'We'll need to wait for the pathologist's report/ said Wilkes. 'Now, I gather this arrangement to see her was made at the vicarage last night. What exactly did she say?'