Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryfam (14 page)

‘But –’

‘Come
on
, Aggie!’

Reluctantly, Agatha set out next to him. Charles opened a gate into the field and shut the gate behind them. ‘We’ll take the path around the edge of the field,’ he said. ‘No harm in that. It’s when people walk across fields that the owners get mad.’

They walked on, Agatha looking nervously all about her. She heaved a sigh of relief when they reached the stand of pine. Pine trees, thought Agatha; why couldn’t they have been some thicker variety of tree? They stood in the shelter of one of the sturdier pines.

The entrance to the house was clearly visible. ‘Can I have a cigarette?’ asked Agatha after half an hour.

‘No,’ said Charles sharply. ‘Someone might see smoke rising from the trees and come to investigate.’

‘So how long are we going to stand here, freezing our assets?’

‘Shhh! Someone’s leaving.’

As they watched, the tall figure of the captain emerged. He got into a dusty Land Rover, after, to Agatha’s relief, putting the dogs in the back. They watched as he drove off down the drive and disappeared along the road, leaving only a black cloud of filthy exhaust to mark his going.

‘Now what?’ muttered Agatha. ‘Is that the exciting event of the day?’

‘We wait to see if Lizzie Findlay makes a move.’

Agatha craved a cigarette. If only she could quit and not be a slave to the beastly things. She peered up at the sky through the tops of the pines. ‘It’s getting darker, Charles. Sun’s gone in. Don’t you think we should get out of here before it rains?’

‘We waited this long. May as well wait a bit more.’

After another three-quarters of an hour, Agatha felt cold and miserable. A sudden gust of wind rustled through the pines and she felt a drop of rain on her cheek.

‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘I’m off. I’m not waiting here to get pneumonia.’

‘Here she comes,’ whispered Charles.

Lizzie Findlay emerged wearing an old wax coat and with a scarf over her head. She got into a battered Ford Escort carrying a small case, which she put on the seat beside her, and after fumbling around a bit, put on a pair of driving glasses.

‘Let her get down the drive,’ said Charles, excited, ‘and we’ll follow her.’

As soon as the Ford had disappeared, Charles grabbed Agatha’s hand and forced her to run towards the car. Cold rain stung their faces, and as Charles had run straight across the ploughed field this time, Agatha’s shoes were thick with wet mud by the time they got to the car.

‘Which way did she go?’ asked Agatha, climbing into the car and fastening her seat-belt.

‘Don’t know, but let’s guess the Norwich road.’

Charles drove off at great speed, and Agatha hung on as he screeched round the bends on the twisting road.

‘Got her!’ exclaimed Charles in triumph.

‘Where?’

‘Up ahead.’

‘I can’t see.’

‘Three cars in front. I’ll keep some cars between us in case she spots us.’

They drove on steadily. ‘Yes, she must be going to Norwich. Let’s hope we don’t lose her in the city. At least it’s not foggy.’

Agatha was feeling depressed. Her feet were wet and muddy. Lizzie would probably go shopping and head straight home.

Lizzie drove straight into the centre of town, to the same car park where Charles had stopped the night before. They found a space two rows behind where she was parking, and then got out. Lizzie was hurrying out of the car park carrying the suitcase. They followed her along several streets until she stopped outside a betting shop, took out a key, unlocked a door next to the betting shop, which they guessed led to the flats above, and disappeared from view.

‘“Curiouser and curiouser,”’ quoted Charles. ‘Look, there’s a café opposite with a free table at the window. We can sit there and keep watch.’

The café owner cast a reproving look at Agatha’s muddy shoes as they walked in. They ordered coffee and sat down at the table by the window. Time dragged on. They ordered more coffee.

Then they saw the door opposite open. ‘You were right!’ said Charles excitedly. For the Lizzie who emerged was transformed. She was wearing a smart white raincoat and silk scarf. She was wearing sheer stockings and high heels. Her face was cleverly made up. She was by no means a beauty, but she looked a chic middle-aged woman instead of a downtrodden housekeeper. They paid for the coffee and followed her. She walked about, looking at the shops. She went into a department store. They followed. Lizzie bought some cosmetics. Then she went through to the lingerie department and bought a lacy bra and French knickers.

Carrying her purchases, and with Charles and Agatha in discreet pursuit, Lizzie returned to the door beside the betting shop and let herself in.

Once more Agatha and Charles took up watch in the café. The table at the window was occupied and so they took turns to stand up, craning their necks.

It was an hour before Lizzie emerged again as her old self, carrying the suitcase.

‘Quick, we’ll follow her,’ said Agatha, getting to her feet.

‘No, sit down!’

Agatha reluctantly did as she was bid. ‘Why?’

‘Because I think she’s going home. I want to find out who rents that flat, if it’s rented, and under what name.’

They finished their coffee. Agatha was beginning to wish they had ordered some food, but at least, with all the waiting around, her feet were dry.

‘We don’t want the neighbours, if there are any neighbours, to report our visit,’ said Charles.

‘I’ve done this sort of thing before,’ said Agatha eagerly. ‘I’ll get a clipboard from a stationer’s and some lined paper and say I am doing market research. Can you see from here? Are there any bells on the door?’

‘Four, and an intercom.’

‘You wait here. Let’s just hope there’s someone at home.’

She bought a clipboard at a nearby stationer’s and then made her way back to the flats. Who should she be? Just vaguely market research. That would do.

There were no names on the bells, just flat numbers. Only the fourth replied, an old woman’s voice demanding shrilly, ‘Who is it? What d’ye want? If it’s you kids again, I’ll call the police.’

‘Market research,’ said Agatha into the intercom.

‘Haven’t got the time to answer a lot of damn-fool questions,’ came the reply.

‘I’ll pay for your time,’ said Agatha.

‘How much?’ Sharp and eager.

‘Twenty pounds.’

The buzzer went and Agatha pushed open the door and climbed up to flat 2. An elderly woman stood at the door, leaning on two sticks. ‘What’s it about?’ she asked.

She had an untidy, uncombed thatch of hair and two sharp beady eyes in a wrinkled face.

‘Coffee,’ said Agatha.

‘Coffee? I don’t drink coffee.’

I won’t get far with this one, thought Agatha. Better go back to the café and wait to see if someone more amenable comes home to one of the other flats.

‘Sorry to trouble you,’ said Agatha.

‘Wait! Did you say twenty pounds?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, come in. I haven’t got all day.’

Agatha followed her into a neat living-room. A canary chirped in a cage at the window and two cats lay in front of a two-bar electric fire. Agatha repressed a shudder. In this old woman, she felt for a moment, she was looking at her future. ‘I’m Mrs Tite. T-I-T-E.’

Agatha dutifully wrote it down. ‘I don’t drink coffee,’ said Mrs Tite, ‘but my son does. Sit down.’ She lowered herself slowly and painfully into an armchair in front of the fire and Agatha took the one opposite.

‘How many cups a day?’ asked Agatha.

‘About four or five.’

Agatha dutifully wrote it down and then proceeded to ask a lot of questions about Mrs Tite’s son’s coffee-drinking. ‘Now,’ said Agatha, ‘is there anyone else in these flats who would be prepared to answer questions?’

‘There’s George Harris and old Mr Black –’

‘I would prefer a woman. They’re better at answering questions.’

‘Well, there’s Mrs Findlay, but I haven’t seen much of her lately, or her husband, for that matter.’

Agatha felt a pang of disappointment. This was just a flat the Findlays had bought or rented in town. She fished out a twenty-pound note and handed it over.

She rose to her feet. Mrs Tite stroked and folded the note and then tucked it in the pocket of her old woollen cardigan. ‘I’ll see myself out,’ said Agatha. ‘Don’t bother to get up.’

‘It’s nice to see that,’ said Mrs Tite, almost as if speaking to herself. ‘Love like that in middle age, and them married so long.’

Agatha swung round, her hand on the doorhandle. ‘You mean Captain and Mrs Findlay?’

‘Is he a captain? I didn’t know that. Never used the title.’

‘I knew some Findlays,’ said Agatha slowly. ‘I must be confusing this Mr Findlay with Captain Findlay. What does he look like?’

‘Small, tubby man. High colour. Wore sporty clothes – hacking jacket, cravat with a horse-head pin in it.’

‘Thank you,’ said Agatha. She scampered down the stairs and across the road to the café, where she told Charles what she had found out, ending with ‘It couldn’t have been Tolly, could it?’

‘Sounds like it.’

‘But that’s impossible! Why would a rich man like Tolly want to philander with someone like Lizzie Findlay?’

‘Think about it. He’s married to a hard blonde who made it clear she only married him for his money. He chats up Lizzie, at first with the simple view in mind of ingratiating himself with her husband. What if it dawns on him that Lizzie finds him attractive? He’s in love with the whole image of country life and here’s a real-live country lady who bakes cakes and makes jam – anyway, I’ll bet she does. Maybe they meet by chance in Norwich one day and it takes off from there.’

‘And maybe she got a bottle of rose perfume from Rosie,’ said Agatha, ‘and that’s what Lucy smelt in the bedroom.’ She shook her head. ‘It’s too far-fetched.’

‘We can ask her.’

‘What?’

‘We can just ask her. We’ll try to get her on her own. Let’s try this evening. I bet the captain goes out somewhere with his hunting cronies. Worth a try.’

‘I can’t bear the idea of hiding out in those pines again.’

‘We’ll go home and wait until after seven and then phone.’

‘But,’ said Agatha, as they walked to the car park, ‘why on earth would she keep on the flat, continue to dress up, buy sexy underwear, if Tolly was the man. Tolly’s dead.’

‘Maybe she found someone else.’

‘Highly unlikely.’

‘All will be revealed if we can get her alone.’

When they got home, Agatha ate a hurried meal of sandwiches and phoned Rosie Wilden and asked her if she could buy some of her rose perfume.

‘You’re welcome to a bottle,’ said Rosie. ‘Next time you’re in the pub, just ask.’

‘Thank you very much. I smelt some of your perfume just recently. Let me see, who was it? Ah, I believe it was Mrs Findlay, Captain Findlay’s wife.’

‘That’d be right,’ said Rosie. ‘Very partial to my perfume is Mrs Findlay. I can’t tell you how to make it because it’s a family secret, but you just drop by and I’ll let you have it.’

Agatha thanked her and rang off. She went into the sitting-room, her face pink with excitement. She told Charles about the perfume.

‘So,’ he said, ‘all we need to do is find Lizzie on her own.’

Charles waited until seven-thirty that evening before dialling Lizzie’s number. She answered the phone and when she said nervously that her husband was not at home, Charles said, ‘It’s you I want to speak to. Can I come round?’

‘I’m afraid it’s not convenient.’

‘It’s about your flat in Norwich.’

There was a little frightened gasp, and then Lizzie said breathlessly, ‘I’ll see you, but not here.’

‘Come here, then,’ said Charles. ‘It’s Lavender Cottage, along Pucks Lane. Do you know it?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’ll expect you soon.’

‘You know what’s bothering me,’ said Charles after he had told Agatha that Lizzie was going to call on them. ‘The fairies. I mean, the fairies have been totally forgotten in all this murder and mayhem.’

‘True. But if it was connected to the murder, why would anyone go to such elaborate lengths? Think of the risk, taking cheap bits of this and that.’

‘You forget about the Stubbs.’

‘I don’t think the theft of the Stubbs had anything to do with it. Oh, there’s the doorbell. Lizzie’s quick.’

But when Agatha opened the door, it was Hand who stood on the doorstep.

‘Thought you would like to know,’ he said, stepping past her into the hall, ‘that whoever turned over your place wore gloves. Except for a set over near the fireplace. Had any children round here?’

‘No, none at all. In fact, I don’t think there are any in the village other than Mrs Jackson’s.’

‘So we believe. My men have gone to see her with Detective Sergeant Carey. Just thought I’d check with you first.’

‘No, no children that I know have been round here,’ said Agatha, almost nudging him towards the door, desperate to get him to leave before Mrs Findlay arrived.

‘Right, then,’ he said, looking at her suspiciously. ‘I’ll let you know how we get on.’

‘Good, good,’ said Agatha. ‘Many thanks.’

How slowly he seemed to leave! Walking slowly along the side path past the hedge to where his car was parked.

Agatha waited nervously until she heard him drive off and then shot back into the house. ‘Phone Lizzie,’ she said to Charles. ‘She may have come round when Hand was here and got frightened off.’

Behind her, the doorbell rang again, making her jump.

‘That’ll be Lizzie,’ said Charles.

Lizzie Findlay came in, blinking in the light. She looked small and faded and scared.

‘Are you going to blackmail me?’ she asked.

‘Not at all,’ said Charles. ‘Take off your coat and come into the sitting-room.’

He helped her out of her coat.

When they were all seated in front of the fire, Charles said, ‘We’ve found out you spent some time with Tolly, masquerading as his wife, in Norwich.’

Lizzie went white. ‘You won’t tell my husband!’

‘No,’ said Agatha. ‘We just want to know what it’s all about. We won’t tell the police either.’