“Gone off with some fellow to the pub for lunch,” said the foreman.
Agatha swung round and headed for the Red Lion. She was very angry. Charles should have phoned her and asked her to join them.
Charles was sitting with a woman who bore a family resemblance to Melissa. Her hair was dark, probably the real colour of Melissa’s hair, thought Agatha.
“I was waiting for you, Charles,” said Agatha truculently.
“About to phone you,” said Charles. “Just getting to know Julia here. Julia Fraser is Melissa’s sister.”
“Sorry to hear about your loss,” said Agatha.
“Are you?” she said coolly. “I wasn’t.”
Agatha sat down. “Do you want something to eat?” asked Charles. “We’re having egg and chips.”
“That’ll do,” said Agatha. When Charles went to the bar to give her order, Agatha looked curiously at Julia. “So you didn’t like your sister?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“She was a lying bitch. She made a dead set for my husband and I told her I never wanted to see her again.”
“Oh. But she left you everything in her will?”
“Yes, that was a surprise. I’m cleaning that cottage out and then I’m going to sell it.”
So there had been a will! Mrs. Bloxby didn’t know everything after all, thought Agatha with a certain degree of satisfac-tion.
“So who are you?” asked Julia.
“Sorry. I forgot to introduce myself,” said Agatha as Charles came back to join them. “I’m Agatha Raisin.”
“Poor you. I heard Melissa got her claws into your husband. Read a bit about it in the papers. Any word of… who is it?”
“James Lacey. No.”
“Have you reverted to your maiden name?”
“No, I’ve always done business under the name of Raisin and so I kept using it. Have you any idea who would have wanted to murder your sister?”
“Lots of people. Your husband, for one.”
“He can’t have done it. He was attacked and we think it was the same person who killed your sister.”
“I can’t think of anyone in particular. She was always trouble. Do you know, my father had her sectioned once?”
“No, what for?”
“She was in her late teens and she was on drugs.”
Drugs again, thought Agatha.
“She was diagnosed as a psychopath. She was a compulsive liar and just didn’t know right from wrong. She liked to get control of men and manipulate them. She was a bit of a chameleon. She would try to be everything she thought some man wanted her to be and they always fell for it and then soon found out their mistake, but she could never sustain an act for long. And it was never her fault. I was amazed that she’d actually gone to the trouble of making a will. She was the sort that thought she would live forever. I know I must sound hard. But she drove out any affection. When I heard she was dead, my first thought was one of relief. I hate to think there’s some murderer out there, but on the other hand, she could drive people batty and she had a vicious tongue.”
“Did you know her husbands, Sheppard and Dewey?”
Julia shook her head. She pushed away her barely touched plate of egg and chips. “I’d broken off relations with her ages ago. Look, thanks for the food and drink. But I’d better get back. No, don’t move. I feel like a walk.”
When she had gone, Agatha turned accusing eyes on Charles. “Why didn’t you let me know you were both going to the pub?”
“I was getting on so well with her and I thought it would take you ages to clean yourself up.”
“Well, don’t try to cut me out again. That’s what you were doing. Oh, Lord!”
“What?”
“That open window in the office. What if she reports it to the police?”
“I shut it. When I got there and we’d been chatting for a bit, I asked her if I could use the loo, and when I was upstairs I shut it.”
“Clever you,” said Agatha, mollified.
“So am I forgiven?”
“I suppose. Don’t do it again. You know, all that stuff about Melissa being a psychopath makes it worse. There must be so many suspects and we haven’t got a clue who did it.”
“I don’t know much about psychopaths. I thought they were people like Hannibal Lecter.”
“When you’ve finished eating, we’ll go home and look it up in the encyclopaedia.”
¦
After looking it up in the encyclopaedia and running reams of information off the Internet, Agatha groaned, “Why can’t they use simple language?”
“It seems to me,” said Charles, “as if psychopath was a sort of blanket diagnosis until fairly recently. It seems as if our Melissa, sectioned at a later date, would have been diagnosed as having ASPD, antisocial personality disorder. Here are some of the features, apart from not having a conscience: lack of empathy, inflated and arrogant self-appraisal, and glib, superficial charm. Tendency to be hooked on drink or drugs or both and… um…”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“What are you keeping from me?”
“Deviant sexual practices.”
“I don’t love James any more,” said Agatha in a shaky voice.
“Not one bit. How could he even spend a minute with such a creature?”
“Never mind. Here we are knowing lots and lots about ASPD and not a bit nearer finding out who did it or where James is.”
¦
James Lacey was feeling strong and well. His headaches had gone. He now attended prayers and worked in the extensive vegetable gardens of the monastery. He felt a miracle had happened and that somehow his brain tumour had gone. But his counsellor, Brother Michael, knew nothing of this. He only heard of James’s desire for a quiet religious life. He knew James had spent most of his years in the army. But James mentioned nothing of his marriage or what had made him flee. If any thoughts of Agatha entered his mind, he banished them quickly. He blamed the brain tumour on the mess of his old life. In the monastery, with its rigid discipline, it was rather like being in the army again. He intended to serve a period of probation and then join the order. Somehow, sometime in the future, he would tell Brother Michael the truth about his life. But not yet.
? The Love from Hell ?
6
THE following day, Agatha said, “We’ve got to try Mr. Dewey again.”
“We’ve only got to show our faces near his house and that damned woman will start shouting for the police.”
“I don’t think so. She’s already made a fool of herself.”
“Oh, really? I thought it was you who had made a fool of yourself, saying you had a gun.”
“Never mind that. I paid Dewey a generous amount to repair his window. Let’s try. I can’t just sit here and worry about James.”
“I thought you didn’t love James any more.”
