Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist
Read Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist Online
Authors: M. C Beaton
Tags: #Traditional British, #Fiction, #Women Sleuths, #Mystery & Detective, #General, #Women Detectives, #Detective and mystery stories, #Cotswold Hills (England), #Travelers, #Raisin, #Agatha (Fictitious Character), #Murder, #Women Private Investigators, #British, #Cyprus
Table of Contents
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MURDER AND OTHER HAZARDS OF
TRAVELING...
Rose sat down, gave a hiccup and a giggle and slipped slowly under the table, a suddenly puzzled look on her face.
Laughing, the men all reached for her. "She's had too much," said Trevor. "I'd better take her back."
Above their heads, a spinning ball of light put their table alternatively in pitch-black darkness and then glaring light. Trevor got hold of Rose and slung her over his shoulder.
He turned to go, one large pink hand firmly on Rose's narrow bony back.
And then he stopped.
He slowly took his hand away and looked at it.
Darkness. Then the ball swung again and they all saw it in the glaring light--the red stain of blood on his hand and the red stain of blood on Rose's back.
W
RITING AS
M. C B
EATON
Agatha Raisin and the Haunted House
Agatha Raisin and the Case of the Curious Curate
Agatha Raisin and the Day the Floods Came
Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell
Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryfam
Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden
Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham
Agatha Raisin and the Wellspring of Death
Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist
Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage
Agatha Raisin and the Walkers of Dembley
Agatha Raisin and the Potted Gardener
The Vicious Vet
The Quiche of Death
The Deadly Dance
The Perfect Paragon
The Skeleton in the Closet
W
RITING AS
M
ARION
C
HESNEY
Snobbery with Violence
Hasty Death
Sick of Shadows
AGATHA
RAISIN
and
the
TERRIBLE TOURIST
M. C. BEATON
St. Martin's Paperbacks
NOTE:
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as "unsold and destroyed" to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this "stripped book."
AGATHA RAISIN AND THE TERRIBLE TOURIST
Copyright (c) 1997 by M. C. Beaton.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10010.
Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 97-16903
ISBN: 978-0-312-96566-2
ISBN: 0-312-96566-4
Printed in the United States of America
St. Martin's Press hardcover edition published October 1997
St. Martin's Paperbacks edition/July 1998
St. Martin's Paperbacks are published by St. Martin's Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
This book is dedicated
with love and affection to
Jackie and Bilal,
and
Emine and Altay.
AGATHA Raisin was a bewildered and unhappy woman. Her marriage to her next-door neighbour, James Lacey, had been stopped by the appearance of a husband she had assumed--hopefully--to be dead. But he was very much alive, that was, until he was murdered. Solving the murder had, thought Agatha, brought herself and James close again, but he had departed for north Cyprus, leaving her alone.
Although life in the Cotswold village of Carsely had softened Agatha around the edges, she was still in part the hard-bitten business woman she had been when she had run her own public-relations firm in Mayfair before selling up, taking early retirement and moving to the country. And so she had decided to pursue James.
Cyprus, she knew, was partitioned into two parts, with Turkish Cypriots in the north and Greek Cypriots in the south. James had gone to the north and somewhere, somehow, she would find him and make him love her again.
North Cyprus was where they had been supposed to go on their honeymoon and, in her less tender moments, Agatha thought it rather hard-hearted and crass of James Lacey to have gone there on his own.
When Mrs. Bloxby, the vicar's wife, called, it was to find Agatha amidst piles of brightly coloured summer clothes.
"Are you taking all those with you?" asked Mrs. Bloxby, pushing a strand of grey hair out of her eyes.
"I don't know how long I will be there," said Agatha. "I'd better take lots."
Mrs. Bloxby looked at her doubtfully. Then she said, "Do you think you are doing the right thing? I mean, men do not like to be pursued."
"How else do you get one?" demanded Agatha angrily. She picked up a swim-suit, one-piece, gold and black, and looked at it critically.
"I have doubts about James Lacey," said Mrs. Bloxby in her gentle voice. "He always struck me as being a cold, rather self-contained man."
"You don't know him," said Agatha defensively, thinking of nights in bed with James, tumultuous nights, but silent nights during which he had not said one word of love. "Anyway, I need a holiday."
"Don't be away too long. You'll miss us all."
"There's not much to miss about Carsely. The Ladies Society, the church fetes, yawn."
"That's a bit cruel, Agatha. I thought you enjoyed them."
But Agatha felt that a Carsely without James had suddenly become a bleak and empty place, filled from end to end with nervous boredom.
"Where are you flying from?"
"Stansted Airport in Essex."
"How will you get there?"
"I'll drive and leave the car in the long-stay car-park."
"But if you are going to be away for very long, that will cost you a fortune. Let me drive you."
But Agatha shook her head. She wanted to leave Carsely, sleepy Carsely with its gentle villagers and thatched-roof cottages, behind and everything to do with it.
The doorbell rang. Agatha opened the door and Detective Sergeant Bill Wong walked in and looked around.
"So you're really going?" he remarked.
"Yes, and don't you try to stop me either, Bill."
"I don't think Lacey's worth all this effort, Agatha."
"It's
my
life."
Bill smiled. He was half Chinese and half English, in his mid-twenties, and Agatha's first friend, for before she moved to the Cotswolds she had lived in a hard-bitten and friendless world.
"Go if you must. Can you bring me back a box of Turkish delight for my mother?"
"Sure," said Agatha.
"She says you must come over for dinner when you get back."
Agatha repressed a shudder. Mrs. Wong was a dreadful woman and a lousy cook.
She went into the kitchen to make coffee and cut cake and soon they were all sitting around and gossiping about local matters. Agatha felt her resolve begin to weaken. She had a sudden clear picture of James Lacey's face turning hard and cold when he saw her again, but thrust it out of her mind.
