Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryfam (17 page)

‘What’s up?’ asked the vicar. ‘You look gloomy.’

But she could no longer confide in him about Agatha. Alf did not like Agatha and would not understand her motives.

Agatha and Charles were glad that Framp had warned them of Hand’s suspicions, so neither was particularly surprised when they found themselves borne off in a police car to headquarters.

They were interviewed separately. Under Hand’s remorseless questioning, Agatha began to wonder if people actually caved in and confessed to crimes they had not committed, because he was almost making her believe she had done it. She was trying to control her temper, but was just about to crack and call him every name under the sun when they were interrupted. Tristan Tomley had arrived to represent both Agatha and Charles.

He joined Agatha at the table. Hand’s questioning lost its belligerence and Agatha, glad of the support and wishing she had had the sense to demand a solicitor before Charles had thought of it, answered all his questions calmly.

At last she read and signed a statement and was free to go. ‘You’ll need to wait for Charles,’ said Tommers breezily. ‘Got to sit in on his questioning.’

Agatha waited patiently on a hard chair by the front desk. She tried to conjure up a dream about herself and James, but the dream would not come. She remembered instead all James’s coldness and anger, the way he would make love to her without saying a word. It’s over at last, she told herself.

‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ asked the desk sergeant.

‘No, thank you.’

The desk sergeant straightened up and then groaned. ‘My joints are killing me,’ he said. ‘Don’t you find when you get to our age that your knees and ankles ache the whole time?’

‘No,’ replied Agatha curtly. That’s all I need on this awful morning, she thought, to be reminded of my age by some fat-gutted copper whose joints would not ache so much if he lost some weight.

At last Charles appeared with Tommers. ‘Thank God that’s over. Drink, Tommers?’

‘Not me. I’ve got an appointment with a client. I’ll be in touch.’

Charles turned to Agatha. ‘Best smile,’ he said. ‘The press are outside. Some copper told me it’s leaked out that we are helping the police with their inquiries.’

‘Isn’t there a back way?’

‘Oh, let’s just face the music.’

‘Isn’t a police car going to take us home?’

‘That’s an idea.’ Charles went up to the desk and asked if they could have a car to take them back to Fryfam.

‘Detective Chief Inspector Hand ordered one, sir, and if I’m not mistaken, it’s outside the door.’

As Charles and Agatha exited, flashes blinded them and Agatha stumbled. Charles put an arm about her shoulders and got her into the police car.

When they arrived back at the cottage, Charles said, ‘Let’s get the cats and clear off somewhere for the night and try to work out what we’ve got. If we stay here, the press will be hammering on the door any minute.’

‘Where will we go? A hotel won’t take cats.’

‘We’ll find one of those roadside motels. Don’t mention the cats. We’ll get a key and then just carry them in when no one is looking.’

They hurriedly packed a couple of suitcases and put the cats in their travelling boxes and set out again. They found a motel on the outskirts of Norwich. It was a very expensive motel, and to Agatha’s amazement Charles produced his credit card to pay for the bill. What had happened to this man, who was expert at ‘forgetting’ his wallet?

They drove round to their room and carried the luggage and the cat boxes in. There were a sitting-room and a bedroom with one large double bed.

‘We should have got one with single beds,’ said Agatha.

‘Don’t make a fuss,’ said Charles, who was kneeling on the floor and helping Hodge and Boswell out of their boxes. ‘It’s an enormous bed. You stay on your side and I’ll stay on mine. Put the cats in the middle if you fear for your honour.’

‘Should we tell the police where we are?’ asked Agatha.

‘I’ll do that. Then we’d better eat something. We never seem to eat much these days.’

Charles phoned the police and explained they were keeping away from the press.

‘Let’s wrap up and take a walk after we have something to eat. This place has a restaurant.’

After they had eaten, they turned off the main road where the hotel was situated and walked along a country lane. A strong wind was blowing, sending the last of the autumn leaves swirling about their feet. Great ragged clouds chased each other across a stormy sky, driven by a north-easter all the way from Iceland.

Agatha was glad she had put on boots and trousers. They walked a mile or two before returning to the hotel. When they went into their motel sitting-room, the cats ran up to Charles, purring and rubbing themselves against his legs.

‘It’s funny the cats should like you so much,’ said Agatha, taking off her coat. ‘They wouldn’t ever go near James like that.’

‘They have good taste, those cats of yours.’

‘I thought you liked James.’

‘He’s a man’s man, to put it politely. If you had got married to him, Agatha, he would expect you to go on like his batman.’

‘He always respected my independence.’

‘When you were having an affair. Marriage is different. After the first fine careless rapture is over, it all comes down to . . . “What did you do with my socks?” Believe me, that one would have expected his shirts ironed and his dinner on the table.’

‘It’s not going to happen,’ snapped Agatha. ‘I thought we were going to discuss this case?’

‘Okay. Let’s sit down and work it out.’ Charles took several sheets of motel stationery. ‘Now who and what have we got? Who is your prime suspect?’

‘What about Captain Findlay? I’d like it to be him.’

‘So, does he steal the Stubbs as well?’

‘Could be. If Tolly was loose-mouthed enough to tell the world the code for his burglar alarm, he may have confided in someone at the hunt about the Stubbs. Anyone else?’

‘There’s more going on in that village than we can even begin to imagine,’ said Charles. ‘Let’s go back to the beginning. Lucy thinks her husband is having an affair with Rosie Wilden.’

‘But I thought Lizzie cancelled that idea out.’

‘Not necessarily. Why should Lizzie be the only one to have an affair with Tolly? Once he started philandering, he might have felt like spreading his wings.’

‘Then why should anyone murder him, Charles? Lizzie was the one getting the Stubbs.’

‘Rats. Try again. You know, it’s a pity Lucy has such a cast-iron alibi. Do you know what I think? I think we should nip back to the manor and try to see that gamekeeper.’

‘All right,’ said Agatha wearily. ‘We seem to have reached a dead end here. I’ll feed the cats and give them some food. Better hang the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the door in case some maid comes in when we’re out and frightens them.’

The day was even colder when they set out for Fryfam, with a fiery-red sun sinking into black clouds. ‘Could almost snow,’ said Charles.

‘Not yet, surely. It doesn’t snow in Britain until January.’

‘Not anywhere else. This is Norfolk. But you’re probably right. Isn’t it funny, all those films and books about Christmas in England? It always snows. And yet I’ve never seen a white Christmas, except in places like Switzerland.’

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t snow here. That’s all we need. I wonder how Lizzie is getting on. She’ll have gone to that flat in Norwich. Will she have enough to live on?’

‘She can always get a job. Do you remember the captain said something about her wanting to be a secretary? If she’s got shorthand and typing, she should get a job easily, despite her age.’

‘Maybe not. It’s all computers these days. Let’s not stay away too long.’

‘You’re worried about your cats. Don’t be. They’re warm and fed and they’ve got each other for company.’

As they approached the entrance to the manor-house drive, Charles said, ‘Let’s get out and walk.’

‘Why?’ grumbled Agatha. ‘It’s freezing and I’ve walked enough for one day.’

‘If the police are about, I don’t want them asking me any more questions. At the first sight of a uniform, we’re off.’

Still grumbling, Agatha got out of the car. They set off up the drive. ‘There’s a road that leads off into the estate before we reach the house. The gamekeeper’s cottage is probably along there,’ said Charles. ‘I wonder if Lucy’s having a shoot. Waste of good birds if she’s not. Pheasant all over the place.’

‘I don’t think Lucy’s the type to have any interest in country sports at all.’

‘She could charge good money for it. Look, there’s someone over there.’

A man was sitting at the wheel of a Land Rover, smoking a cigarette. Charles approached him. ‘Do you know where we can find Paul Redfern’s cottage?’

‘Follow this road round that bend and you’ll come to the cottage on your right.’

‘Thanks,’ said Charles. ‘Do you work here?’

‘I do the maintenance,’ he said laconically.

‘Police up at the house?’

‘They were earlier but they’ve left.’

Charles thanked him and he and Agatha walked on. Sleety rain began to sting their faces. ‘I wish we hadn’t walked,’ mourned Agatha. ‘It’s a long way back.’

‘If he’s a friendly chap, we’ll ask him to give us a lift to the gates. So here’s the bend. Tolly must have spent some good money on this estate. It’s well maintained. Ah, here’s the cottage. Funny how many of these estate cottages are mock Tudor. There’s smoke coming out of the chimney. Good sign.’

Charles knocked at the cottage door.

There was no reply. Night was falling fast and the rain was thicker and steadier. The wind suddenly dropped. There was no other sound but the rain pattering on the leaves of a laurel bush by the door.

‘I think we’ve had a journey for nothing,’ said Agatha.

‘I hate to think we’ve come all this way for nothing.’ Charles knocked at the door again. It slowly creaked open.

They looked at each other and then at the open doorway.

‘Let’s snoop,’ said Charles cheerfully ‘At least we’ll be out of the rain.’

‘I don’t think . . .’ began Agatha, but Charles was already walking inside.

She followed him into a minuscule hall. Charles opened a door to his right. Then he closed it again. ‘Don’t look, Aggie. I’m going to be sick.’ He rushed outside.

But Agatha, overcome by curiosity, opened that door. What was left of the gamekeeper lay slumped in an armchair. Most of his head had been blown away.

Agatha clutched on to the side of the door. Then somehow she got herself outside. Charles was standing with his white face turned up to the falling rain.

Agatha sat down suddenly on the doorstep. She fumbled in her handbag for her mobile phone and called the emergency services and asked for the police and ambulance, wondering later why she had bothered to ask for an ambulance when there was nothing more that could be done for Paul Redfern.

James Lacey switched on the six o’clock news. The pound was strengthening, the Government was being called upon to reduce interest rates, some fat Scottish member of the Cabinet was saying the Government knew what they were doing and James reached for the remote control to switch it off when suddenly the news changed to Norfolk. ‘Sir Charles Fraith and Mrs Agatha Raisin were taken to police headquarters today to help police with their inquiries. Police have stressed that no charges have been made.’ Then there was a shot of Charles and Agatha. Charles’s arm was protectively around Agatha’s shoulders. They looked very much a couple. James then switched off the television set and stared at the wall opposite. He felt angry and lonely.

Questions, questions and more questions. Then back to police headquarters to make their statements. Agatha and Charles were hungry and tired and very much shaken up by the time they were allowed back to their motel. They had picked up a pizza on the road to the motel and they ate that in silence.

At last Agatha said, ‘Why him?’

‘Because he knew something,’ said Charles, ‘and now we may never know what that something was. I thought that maintenance man – Joe Simons – might have done it, but he’d been up at the houses, so the police say, just before we saw him, fixing taps. Let’s go to bed and leave it all to the morning. You can use the bathroom first.’

Agatha soaked in a hot bath and then put on a long brushed-nylon night-gown. She climbed into bed and picked up a book and tried to read to blot out the terrible sight of the dead gamekeeper.

Charles, having washed, joined her in the bed. He picked up a paperback from his side of the bed and began to read as well. Then he heard a muffled sob and looked at Agatha. Tears were streaming down her face. ‘I want to go home,’ she sobbed.

‘Shhh, come here.’ He put his arms around her and held her close.

Agatha began to kiss him in a frenzied way. A gentleman would not take advantage of a situation, said some dim voice of conscience in the back of Charles’s head, but he too was frightened and rattled, and so he did.

Agatha awoke in the morning and immediately the events of the night came flooding into her mind. She fished down at the bottom of the bed and retrieved her crumpled night-gown, pulled it over her head, and went off to the bathroom, feeling stiff and sore. Their love-making had been very energetic, almost as if they had been trying to thrash the horrors out of each other’s minds.

But when she returned to the bedroom, feeling embarrassed, Charles said calmly, ‘At last. I thought you were going to spend all day in there.’

He went into the bathroom. Agatha dressed in warm clothes. She fed the cats and checked their water bowls.

When Charles joined her, Agatha was at first grateful that he made no reference to their activities of the night before but then began to feel rather cross, thinking that he might at least say something.

But Charles, after making them coffee, said, ‘I think we should keep clear of Fryfam for a little. I think we should go and see if we can talk to Lizzie.’

‘Why?’

‘God knows. But she did have an affair with Tolly. She must know a lot about him. There must be something she can tell us.’

‘All right,’ Agatha muttered, not looking at him.