dinner,” said Agatha gloomily.
“It just might not have anything to do with Megan at all,” said Charles quietly. “Don’t build up your hopes.”
Bill came back and his eyes were gleaming. “What?” asked Agatha eagerly.
“You’re a witch! There’s a motorbike registered to Megan Sheppard. I wonder if they still have it.”
“The shed,” said Charles. “They have a shed at the bottom of the garden.”
“I’ll need to go into the office,” said Bill. “I hope they haven’t got rid of that motorbike. I wish you had come straight to me in the first place. She may have fled. Go home and wait. Yes, Agatha. It’s out of your hands now.”
¦
So Agatha and Charles waited. The long afternoon dragged on into evening and Agatha’s phone remained silent.
They ate a silent meal, waiting, always waiting. Then, just before nine o’clock, the doorbell rang.
“At last!” cried Agatha, leaping to her feet.
She rushed and opened the door. Megan Sheppard stood there, the outside light over the door gleaming on a small but efficient pistol she was holding in her hand. “Back into the house slowly,” she said.
Numb with shock, Agatha did as she was told. Charles came out of the kitchen and stood staring at the pair of them.
Megan waved the gun in the direction of the sitting-room. “In there,” she snapped.
When they were inside, she ordered, “Sit down.”
Agatha and Charles sank down side by side on the sofa.
“So it was you,” said Agatha, through dry lips.
“And I would have got away with it,” said Megan, “if you hadn’t come blundering around.”
“Why?” asked Charles. “Was it the money?”
“She said she would leave it all to me. We were friends, she thought. Actually, I never liked her. But I kept in touch with her over the years. I didn’t take Luke Sheppard away from her. He got sick of her and asked for a divorce. That was when I moved in. She didn’t mind, she said.”
“But no one knew you had been seeing Melissa,” said Agatha. “Didn’t you call at each other’s houses?”
“No, she didn’t want to see Luke again, or so she said. Then Luke came back one evening and said Melissa had sent for him.”
“That was when she told him,” said Agatha, thinking, I must keep her talking. Where is Bill?
“No, that was his story. She actually told him that she had a friend in the village, James Lacey. He had advised her to change her will and leave the money to Julia, her sister.”
“I phoned her up to protest, to say she hated Julia and that we’d always been friends, but she said that Lacey was right. Sorry, and all that. The worst of it was she really got a kick out of telling me.
“I was red with rage. I found out where Lacey lived and went round and attacked him. He got away. I thought he would go to the police and I couldn’t believe my luck when he just disappeared. I realized I had to silence Melissa, and silence her fast. She would guess it had been me who attacked James. I told Luke. He was as anxious to get his hands on the money as me. That shop of his is hardly selling anything and he had just re- mortgaged the house. So we planned to put the motorbike in the car and stay at the Randolph in Oxford. We left the motorbike in Saint Giles. I slipped past the desk. The porter was on the phone and I crawled past under the desk.”
“What did you kill her with?” asked Agatha.
“An ordinary hammer. Now I am going to shoot you both and get out of here.”
Charles rose from the sofa and walked towards her. “No, you’re not.”
“Charles!” cried Agatha in an agony of fear. Megan aimed the pistol at his face and tried to pull the trigger. Nothing happened. Charles seized her wrist and twisted it until the gun fell on the floor. He clutched the struggling Megan tightly, yelling to Agatha, “Get the gun. The safety catch is on.”
Megan was kicking out wildly and screaming and trying to twist around and claw Charles’s face. Agatha grabbed the gun. “Get rope or something,” shouted Charles.
Agatha stood blindly. Rope, rope, where on earth is rope? She ran into the kitchen. Nothing. She seized a large roll of cellophane and ran back with it. Megan’s screams were awful, mad, unearthly.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” panted Charles.
And then there came the wail of police sirens. Charles succeeded in throwing Megan onto the floor and sat astride her, holding her hands above her head.
Agatha rushed and opened the door and waved frantically to the arriving police cars.
Villagers were gathering at the end of the street. They
Bill was in the first car. “She’s here?” he cried when he got out.
“Inside. Hurry,” said Agatha.
¦
Megan was handcuffed and taken off. Charles and Agatha followed in another police car to Mircester to make their statements. Agatha felt quite limp and also disgusted with herself. She had been so frightened when Megan pointed the pistol at her that she had wet herself. Why hadn’t she just told the police that, and begged to be allowed to change?
She had no sense of triumph, no gladness in being proved right. She felt old and messy.
Inspector Wilkes sent Bill to take their statements. As he went to switch on the recording machine, Agatha said, “Where’s Sheppard?”
“We took him in for questioning. We got him just as he was returning from Mircester. We found the motorbike, and in one of the saddlebags we found the vacuum cleaner. It was one of those small ones people use for cleaning cars. I hope it hadn’t been emptied. That’s the trouble with dealing with mad amateurs. If James had not disappeared, we would have been able to arrest her and Melissa might still be alive. Megan had the most amazing luck.”
“I wonder if Melissa ever intended to leave her any money,” said Agatha. “I wonder if James found out about Melissa and dumped her because she was dangerous. I wonder if she told Megan that in the hope that Megan would make life a misery for James.”
“Unless we find James Lacey, we’ll never know,” said Bill. “Now, let’s begin.”
They both made statements and Bill disappeared with them, leaving them alone. “I can’t bear this,” said Agatha to Charles. “When she pointed that pistol at me, I wet myself.”
“If they keep us here much longer,” said Charles, “you’ll soon be dry.”
“Doesn’t it disgust you?”
“No, ordinary human functions do not disgust me. Stick it out now. Can’t be much longer.”
But Bill returned with Wilkes, who said he would like to go over their statements again. Agatha was too weary to do other than repeat everything she had told Bill, but Charles was sure that Wilkes really wanted to know how they had managed to figure out it was Megan when the police had not.
It all seemed like a dream, thought Agatha, as she and Charles went through their investigations once more, step by step. At last the statements were approved. They signed and were told they were free to go.
Agatha regained some of her usual spirit. As they were leaving the room, she turned and said to Wilkes, “You might at least say thank you.”
“For what?” said Wilkes, shuffling the statement papers. “For solving your case for you.”
“We would have got there sooner or later,” began Wilkes pompously.
“Pah,” said Agatha Raisin and slammed the door behind her.
¦
Oh, the luxury of a warm soapy bath and dirty clothes spinning in the washing machine. Wrapped in their dressing-gowns, Agatha and Charles met in the sitting-room for a nightcap.
“That’s over at last,” sighed Agatha.
“Except for James,” said Charles. “Fancy a trip to France?”
“I feel too weary to even think about it,” said Agatha. “How could James behave so irresponsibly?”
“He didn’t know Melissa had been murdered.”
