The Day the Floods Came

stall with me during the school holidays. I thought it must be her and fired her. Now I mink it might have been Kylie. Where did I go wrong?”

By pretending nothing was happening, thought Agatha.

Aloud she said, “I have to ask you this. Do you think she’d been taking drugs?”

“No! But then, I didn’t know about the blackmail or anything,” wailed Freda. “Maybe she took that overdose herself and the people that gave her the stuff panicked.”

“That’s possible except for the fact that she was wearing that wedding dress and slipped out late at night. Someone asked her to let them see it.”

Agatha stood up and poured two mugs of coffee and put one, along with milk and sugar, in front of Freda. “Was she very proud of the wedding dress?”

“No, that’s the thing. It was my sister, Josie’s, girl’s gown. Josie’s daughter, Iris, had only worn it once and it cost Josie a mint. Lovely gown, it was. Kylie said she wanted a new one, but I dug my heels in on that. What’s the point, I said to her, of paying out all that money on a gown you’ll only be wearing once? And then Iris and Kylie were the same size.”

Agatha’s interest quickened. “If she was worried about it, she might have said to someone that she didn’t want to wear it and they said, “Well, bring it round and let me have a look.” That suggests another woman. When she got home, did she make a phone call or have any phone calls?”

“She went straight to her room and then I heard her playing a CD. She had a mobile phone. But the police took that away and checked all phone calls to and from the house. She didn’t make a phone call that evening.”

“Does this mean you want me to go on investigating?” asked Agatha.

“Yes, please. I feel I know the worst about my daughter now and nothing else can shock me.”

“Did she keep a diary?”

“No. I bought her one once, but she never bothered to write anything in it.”

“Letters from anyone?”

“None of those. Young people seem to use the phone these days.”

“I’ll keep in touch with you,” said Agatha. “I’ll do my best, but the police have warned me off.”

¦

After Freda had left, Agatha phoned John Armitage. “You’d better drop round,” she said. “There’s been a new development.” When John arrived, Agatha told him about the visit from Freda and what she had said.

“We need to find out more about that hen party,” said John. “We need to find out if one of them volunteered to look at the: dress, and there’s another thing.”

“What?”

“No phone calls. But what about e-mail? Someone could have sent her an e-mail to her station at the firm. Joanna could check that for us.”

“Oh, her,” said Agatha.

“Yes, her. She’s bright and she’s clever and she knows your real identity, which the other girls don’t. I don’t chase young girls, Agatha.”

“I’m not interested if you do,” said Agatha crossly. She automatically lit up a cigarette and then scowled in distaste and stubbed it out. “What’s up?”

“I went to a hypnotist,” said Agatha. “He said every cigarette I would now smoke would taste like burning rubber and he was right.”

John burst out laughing. “There’s one thing about you, Agatha – no one could ever call you boring.”

“That’s me. A laugh a minute,” said Agatha gloomily.

“And I’ll take you for lunch to make up for last night.”

Agatha brightened. “I’ll go and change while you phone Joanna.”

She went upstairs and changed into a trouser suit and a tailored blouse, noticing with delight that the trouser waistline was quite loose. She carefully made up her face and sprayed herself liberally with Champagne perfume before going downstairs to join him.

“Joanna said she would check Kylie’s machine after all the others have gone for the night. If we wait round the corner in the Little Chef, she’ll join us there about seven o’clock this evening.”

¦

“Aren’t you coming, Joanna?” demanded Marilyn Josh as the other girls put on their coats.

“I’ve just got a couple of bills to send out,” said Joanna. “I’d better get them done now.”

“Please yourself,” said Phyllis nastily. “But it’s no use sucking up to the boss. He’s not in.”

Joanna shrugged and pretended to concentrate on her computer. It was, she thought uneasily, as if the others suspected she was up to something. They seemed to take a long time to leave. She stayed at her desk until she heard them all disappear at last into the night. Then, just as she was about to rise from her desk, Sharon Heath came back in. “Still here?” she said. “Won’t be a mo. I left something in me desk.”

Joanna typed steadily, glad she had taken the precaution of leaving her computer switched on. She heard Sharon behind her, opening and shutting drawers and muttering, “Now, where did I put that dratted thing?” Then a grunt of satisfaction. “See ya,” said Sharon. The office door banged shut and Joanna could hear her high heels clacking off down the corridor.

She had a sudden impulse to shut down her computer and leave. The silence of the office seemed threatening. But if she found something, John would be pleased with her. He was very attractive. She wondered if there was anything going on between him and that Raisin woman. No. Definitely not. No vibes there. She had enjoyed her dinner with him. Older men were so much more attractive. She cocked her head to one side and listened. She rose again. She heard footsteps in the corridor and sat down again hurriedly. The door opened. George, who manned the front desk, put his head round the door. “I want to lock up. How long you going to be?”

“Give me five minutes,” said Joanna.

“Right. Give me a shout on your road out.”

She waited again until all was silent. Get on with it, she told herself.

Joanna took a deep breath and crossed the office floor to Kylie’s desk. She switched on the computer.

The screen lit up, bright blue. “Hurry up and warm up,” urged Joanna. She got into the e-mail and began to read. “Ah, now we have it,” she said.

The blow that’s struck her on the back of the head was vicious and sudden. She slumped forward on the keyboard.

¦

Agatha and John fidgeted restlessly in the Little Chef. “It’s now seven-thirty,” said John. “She’s had plenty of time. I hope nothing’s gone wrong.”

“I’ll wait here,” said Agatha. “Why don’t you drive along past Barrington’s and see if there’s still a light on in the office.”

John left and Agatha waited anxiously. What if John decided to take Joanna off on his own again with the excuse that he’d get more out of her that way? I should have given him my mobile phone number.

She waited ten minutes and then sighed with relief as she saw John’s car turning into the car-park once more.

He sat down and leaned forward and said urgently. “There was an ambulance. She was being carried out.”

“Dead? Oh, God, not dead.”

“No, there was breathing apparatus over her face. The police were there and that George fellow was talking to them. They didn’t see me. What with the ambulance and the police cars, a crowd had already gathered. I stood at the back.”

“We’ll need to find out which hospital they’ve taken her to.”

“Where would that be? Here in Evesham? Worcester? Redditch?”

“Got your phone?”

“In my bag.” Agatha opened her handbag, took out her mobile phone and handed it to him.

She fretted and fidgeted as he made several phone calls. “It’s early yet,” she finally interrupted him. “She may not have arrived at whatever hospital they’ve taken her to. Let’s go home and then try again.”

John tried again from Agatha’s cottage. At last he found out that Joanna had been taken to the Alexandra