Agatha Raisin: Hiss and Hers (19 page)

‘Er, no,' lied Simon, who had said that Toni had a date.

‘Look, Simon, I told Agatha how nifty Jessica had been in getting rid of that adder.'

‘You what?'

‘Well, don't you find it suspicious?'

‘No, I do not,' raged Simon. ‘I want Agatha to leave her alone.'

‘She's just going to go over Jessica's alibis again.'

‘I wish I'd never brought you,' said Simon sulkily.

‘The feeling's mutual. Now we've got the long walk back.'

‘The road's just over there. The sound man says he'll give us a lift back to my car.'

Simon was silent on the road back to Mircester. All he wanted to do was to get rid of Toni and pick out something to wear.

Once in Mircester, Toni went to her own car and drove to Carsely.

‘Any luck with those alibis?' asked Toni when Agatha answered the door.

‘I've got Roy here on a visit. I decided we'll all get on to it on Monday. Where is Simon?'

‘He's been invited to Jessica's for dinner. I'm worried about him.'

‘Come into the garden and have a drink and say hello to Roy.'

Roy seemed almost as infatuated with Jessica as Simon. ‘If you ask me,' he whispered as Agatha went to get Toni a glass of mineral water, ‘Agatha's just jealous of Jessica. I mean, Jessica's enough to make any woman jealous.'

‘Not me,' said Toni.

Simon, dressed in his best suit, striped shirt and silk tie, nervously rang the doorbell of Jessica's cottage that evening.

At first he thought she was not at home, but then he heard scuffling sounds from behind the door and a male voice shouting, ‘Don't answer it and maybe he'll go away.'

Must think it's a reporter, thought Simon, and rang the bell again. There was a silence and then the door was suddenly opened. Jessica stood there. She was wearing denim shorts with a man's shirt tied round her waist and she was in her bare feet.

‘Why, Simon!' she cried.

‘You did invite me for dinner, didn't you?' asked Simon.

‘Did I? It's been such a hectic day, I must have forgotten. Come in anyway and have a drink. 'Fraid I can't do dinner.'

Simon felt snubbed. A little voice of common sense was telling him to leave, but she smiled so prettily that he said, ‘Well, all right.'

She led the way into the kitchen. To his annoyance, Rex was there. ‘You're all dressed up,' he said, surveying Simon. ‘If it wasn't a Saturday, I'd guess you'd been to see your bank manager.'

‘I did think I was invited to dinner,' said Simon. Rex was naked to the waist, showing a trim, muscled body.

‘I'm afraid we've eaten,' said Rex, indicating an empty pizza box on the table.

‘Run along, Rex,' said Jessica. ‘I'll just have a drink with Simon and then we can get back to rehearsing our lines.'

Rex slouched out of the kitchen. ‘What'll you have?' asked Jessica.

‘I'll just have a black coffee,' said Simon. ‘I'm driving.'

She went to a gleaming espresso machine and began to prepare his coffee.

‘So,' said Jessica when she had set a cup of coffee on the kitchen table, ‘sit down and tell me what you've been detecting.'

‘Oh, just bread-and-butter stuff,' said Simon. ‘Divorces, lost teenagers, things like that.'

‘No murders?'

‘Nothing like that.'

‘What about George's murder?'

‘Dead end, I'm afraid,' said Simon, ‘but Agatha is very tenacious.'

‘But what on earth can she do that the police can't?'

‘I really don't know. But somehow she digs away and bumbles around and always comes up with something.'

‘Isn't she afraid?'

‘I think Agatha's curiosity is bigger than her fear. Let's talk about you. I thought your acting was superb this afternoon.'

She shrugged. ‘It's a job. I'm lucky. Look, I'm sorry I forgot about dinner, but I'm worried about Rex.'

‘Why?' asked Simon jealously.

‘We haven't got to the end of the next script. In it, he's killed off. He's going to be furious.'

‘What did he do before?'

‘Not much. Shaving advertisement, that sort of thing. He's been throwing his weight around a bit much on set, so they decided to write him out.'

‘That's a bit hard. I mean, to let him find out like that. Couldn't they just give him a warning?'

‘He's had several warnings. Now, you really must go.'

Simon rose reluctantly to his feet. She walked him to the door and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Maybe another time,' she said.

As the door closed, he stood miserably on the step. Then he sensed he was being watched and turned round.

Joyce Hemingway stood there. He walked down the path to join her. ‘What are you staring at?' demanded Simon.

‘You men are a joke, the way you sniff around her,' said Joyce harshly.

‘I don't suppose many men sniff around you,' said Simon. ‘By the way, you were overheard threatening to kill George Marston.'

‘That's a lie!' she said passionately. ‘George loved me!'

‘And half the village as well,' commented Simon.

She slapped him full across the face so hard that he had to hang on to the garden gate for support. Then she set off down the road with long, athletic strides.

Simon got into his car and drove to Agatha's cottage. Toni, Roy and Agatha had just finished dinner.

‘I'm hungry,' said Simon when he joined them in the kitchen.

‘I thought you were having dinner with Jessica,' said Toni.

‘Cancelled. Said she had to rehearse with the poisonous Rex. She says he'll find out at the end of the script that he's been killed off.'

‘And you all dressed up and nowhere to go.'

Simon shrugged. ‘I had a confrontation with the terrible Joyce. She slapped my face.'

‘What did you say?' asked Agatha.

‘I told her she'd been heard threatening to kill George. She said George loved her, and I said, “Yes, and half the village as well.”'

‘She's dangerous,' said Toni.

‘Keep away from her,' urged Agatha.

‘I'm bored,' said Roy pettishly. He loved more than anything to see his photo in the newspapers and he had hoped the press would still be around the village. ‘I'm going for a walk.'

‘Suit yourself.' Agatha turned to Simon. ‘There's some of a lamb casserole left that Mrs Bloxby gave me. Like some?'

‘That would be great.'

As Roy walked through the village under a violet evening sky, he found his steps leading him to Jessica's cottage. He wondered whether he could persuade her to take him on as a publicist. Then he could return to London on Monday to present that success to his boss at the public relations agency.

He put his hand on her garden gate and then stopped short. There came the sound of breaking glass and china and a man's voice shouting, ‘How dare you let them plan to kill me off!'

Roy took out his mobile phone and dialled Mircester police headquarters.

‘Listen!' said Toni. ‘I think I hear police sirens.'

They all went out to the front of Agatha's cottage. ‘There are blue lights up the hill. That's where Joyce lives. Come on!' said Agatha.

But they found three police cars outside Jessica's cottage, not Joyce's. A furious Jessica was standing on the doorstep while a shamefaced Roy was being lectured by Wilkes.

Agatha arrived in time to hear Wilkes say to Roy, ‘They were rehearsing a script. Didn't you think to check before you wasted police time?'

‘But I heard all this commotion and the sound of things breaking,' pleaded Roy.

‘Miss Fordyce has clearly explained they were getting into their parts. I should book you for wasting police time.'

‘Come along, Roy,' said Agatha. ‘I am sure he is very sorry and it won't happen again.'

Back in her kitchen, Agatha said, ‘Don't you remember, Roy, before you went out, Simon explained that Rex was about to discover that he'd been killed off in the latest script.'

‘I don't believe that was all there was to it. He was shouting, “How dare you plan to let them kill me off.” Then I could hear what sounded like crockery and glass being smashed.'

‘They could have had a tape of sound effects,' said Toni.

‘Well, if that line's in the script, I'll eat my hat.'

‘The new series doesn't run until next October,' said Simon. ‘You won't know until then.'

‘Did you never consider, Simon, that Rex and Jessica might be lovers?' asked Toni.

‘He's gay,' said Roy.

‘You don't know that,' said Simon.

‘Trust me. I know.'

Sulkily deciding that there was no hope of any publicity, Roy took himself off early the next day.

Agatha, finding herself on her own, decided to visit Mrs Bloxby. This time she phoned first, but Mrs Bloxby said she would rather call on Agatha as her husband was busy, it being Sunday, which Agatha translated as meaning that Alf Bloxby's temporary feelings of goodwill towards her had evaporated.

As she waited for her friend, Agatha wondered what Charles was doing. Perhaps he blamed her for the breakup with Petronella.

When Mrs Bloxby arrived, Agatha served her with her favourite glass of dry sherry and helped herself to a gin and tonic.

‘What was all the fuss about at Miss Fordyce's cottage?' asked Mrs Bloxby.

Agatha told her about Rex losing his part.

‘Oh, he's not losing it,' said Mrs Bloxby. ‘Haven't you read the Sunday papers?'

‘I haven't been along to get them yet.'

‘Miss Fordyce has made a statement that if Rex leaves the show, then so does she.'

Agatha's bearlike eyes gleamed with excitement. ‘I wonder if he's got some sort of hold over her.'

‘They are reported to be lovers.'

‘Roy says that Rex is gay.'

‘I suppose he could be,' said Mrs Bloxby. ‘It's a sad fact that in England good-looking young men with superb figures often are.'

‘And,' pointed out Agatha, ‘who knows better than I how to spin a story for the newspapers. Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way round. Maybe Jessica is one of those women who falls in love with the unattainable.'

And you know what it's like to keep falling in love with the unattainable, thought Mrs Bloxby, but did not voice the thought aloud.

‘Maybe,' Agatha went on, ‘Jessica was eaten up with jealousy and used Rex as her creature to get rid of the rivals.'

‘I really don't think either of them has anything to do with it,' said Mrs Bloxby. ‘Miss Fordyce is so beautiful that surely she could have had an affair with Mr Marston if she wanted to.'

‘Perhaps she wanted to and couldn't,' said Agatha excitedly. ‘George had a penchant for the more mature woman.' Except me, she thought. ‘I'd like to get a close look at both of them. I might call on them today.'

‘Oh, do be careful!'

* * *

As Agatha walked up to Jessica's cottage, she noticed the day was quite chilly and a thin veil of white cloud was covering the sky. The disadvantage of living in the country, she thought, was one was too aware of the changing seasons and it would soon be autumn again, reminding a middle-aged woman like herself of things ageing and dying.

The countryside was very quiet except for the faint sound of a tractor on the hills above the village.

Agatha squared her shoulders, walked up the path and rang the doorbell. Jessica opened the door, looked her up and down, and said curtly, ‘I'm busy. Go away.'

‘Just a few words,' pleaded Agatha. ‘I won't take up much of your time.'

Jessica shut the door in her face.

Agatha walked slowly away. She saw the unlovely figure of Mrs Arnold approaching. Mrs Arnold blocked her path. ‘That poor girl,' she said. ‘The press have been bothering her all morning and now you.'

‘And where are the press now?'

‘In the pub, getting drunk.'

‘Good idea,' said Agatha. ‘I'll join them.'

Reporters and cameramen were clustered around tables outside the Red Lion, smoking and drinking.

‘Here's Aggie!' shouted a reporter from the
Morning Record
. ‘Any news?'

Agatha pulled a chair up next to him. ‘Not a thing. Who is this Rex Dangerfield that Jessica should risk her career standing up for him?'

‘Nasty git,' said another reporter. ‘Usually preens himself the minute he sees a camera but not today.'

‘Do me a favour,' said Agatha. ‘Does Rex have an address in London, or does he live in Jessica's flat?'

‘I'm Reg Hendry,' said the
Morning Record
reporter. ‘Come inside to the bar. I'll buy you a drink. I help you and you help me.'

‘Okay.' Agatha followed him into the darkness of the old pub. Reg bought her a gin and tonic and a pint for himself. He was a tired-looking man in his thirties with thinning brown hair and blurred features as if many pints of beer had softened the lines. He was wearing a blue open-necked shirt and faded jeans. Agatha remembered when reporters always used to wear suits.

They took their drinks to a table in a corner by the window. ‘I'll give you his London address and what I have on him,' said Reg, ‘on condition you tell me if you find out anything that would make a good story.'

‘It's a deal,' said Agatha.

He took a gulp of beer, and then said, ‘He was born Rex Pratt. Parents lived in Lewisham. Poor and dishonest. Mother had several charges for shoplifting and father for burglary. He worked on building sites and then got a job, no one knows how, as a tour operator taking people round India. Then he signed up with an advertising agency and got some ads for shaving cream and toothpaste. Changed his name to Rex Dangerfield. Producer of the hospital soap took him on at first in a bit part as a junior doctor. Almost immediately he got a shed-load of fan mail so producer Malcolm Fryer upped him to star opposite Jessica. Publicity put out rumours that he and Jessica were an item.'