'No, but she might have been lurking around somewhere. In any case, surely she would know more about Paul Bladen than most. She worked with him'
Agatha made up her mind.
'We'll go tomorrow'
Chapter Six
Agatha and James were not able to set out for Royal Leamington Spa until late the next day, for another drama had hit Carsely. The veterinary surgery had been broken into and the drugs cabinet smashed open. It had been neatly and efficiently done. A pane of glass on the back door had been broken, allowing the thief to reach in and unlock the door.
'So that's probably where the Adrenalin came from' said a harassed-looking Bill Wong, 'except that PC Griggs says he kept checking the premises on his rounds and there was no sign of a break-in before last night'
'He probably didn't even notice the broken pane of glass' commented James.
'Fred Griggs is a conscientious village bobby' said Bill.
'Then do you think someone meant the police to think the Adrenalin came from there?' asked Agatha.
'That could be the case. But how unnecessarily complicated! And this throws suspicion on the death of Paul Bladen. No one we can think of wanted Mrs Josephs dead'
Then statements were painstakingly taken from Agatha and James about the finding of the bottle.
'They analysed the one we eventually found and it contains traces of a tranquillizer. We have checked with the local doctor and it would amaze you in this enlightened day and age how many women are on tranquillizers' said Bill. 'Now I have something to say to both of you. The police at times seem very slow and plodding, but it's a safer way of doing things than having amateurs running around stirring things up. Please do not interfere again'
'If we had not interfered, as you put it' said Agatha hotly, 'you would have gone on thinking Paul Bladen's death was an accident'
'And Mrs Josephs might still be alive. Leave it to us, Agatha'
After the police had gone, James said reluctantly, 'It seems we're not exactly popular'
'Yes, I suppose we'd better drop it' Agatha looked reluctant. 'Perhaps I should think about some gardening'
'Your lawn at the front could do with treatment' said James. 'Come and I'll show you what I mean'
Agatha was first out of her front door. She glanced down the lane and saw Freda Huntingdon standing on James's doorstep and retreated so quickly she bumped into him.
I've changed my mind' she said, slamming the door and leading the way back to the kitchen. 'Have another cup of coffee and I'll tell you about it'
'Now' she began when they were seated, 'the way I look at it is this'
Her doorbell rang, sharp and peremptory.
'Aren't you going to answer that?' he asked.
1 suppose so' Agatha got reluctantly to her feet. She peered through the spyhole. Freda was standing on the step. Agatha returned to the kitchen and sat down.
'Double-glazing salesman' she said. 'They're so pushy. Not worth answering the door'
The bell shrilled again and Agatha winced. Til go' said James, rising.
'No, sit down, please. I think we should go to Leamington and question Miss Mabbs. How can that be called interfering? Just a few questions. If we knew more about what Paul Bladen was like, then we might know what lies behind his death. After all, what makes someone kill?'
'Passion' said James. 'One of his jilted ladies.'
'Or money' said Agatha, thinking of her unfortunate experience in London.
But James, secure in the comfort of a private income and an army pension, shook his head. 'He hadn't much to leave, not by today's standards'
The doorbell rang again.
'No' said Agatha sharply. 'Just wait and whoever it is will go away. Whereabouts in Leamington does Miss Mabbs live?'
He took out a notebook and flipped the pages. 'Here we are. Miss Cheryl Mabbs, aged twenty-three, employed for only the short time the surgery lasted in Carsely, lives at 43, Blackbird Street, Royal Leamington Spa'
Agatha's straining ears could not hear anything from outside, but then the cottage was so insulated, she hardly ever did. Til just go upstairs and put some make-up on,' she said, 'and then we'll go. If that doorbell rings again, ignore it'
Upstairs, she peered out of her bedroom window and saw with satisfaction the slim retreating figure of Freda.
She put on a little make-up, not too much or he might be frightened off again, sprayed some Rive Gauche over herself, and went back downstairs. She fed the cats, and as the day was not particularly cold, let them out into the back garden.
'Why don't you get a cat door?' asked James.
Tve had a few scares before' said Agatha, 'and when I think of a cat door, I think of a small burglar, writhing his way through it like a snake'
'That doesn't happen. Tell you what' said James, feeling obscurely that he had to make amends for deserting his post the night before, 'buy one and I'll fix it for you'
Agatha beamed at him. How domestic they were becoming. A simple wedding in Carsely Church. Too old to wear white. Perhaps a silk suit and a pretty hat. Honeymoon somewhere exotic. 'Famous Detective Agatha Raisin Weds' that's what the local headlines would say.
James looked at her uneasily. Her small eyes had an odd glazed look. 'Are you feeling all right?7 he asked. 'You look just the way I feel when I have indigestion'
Tm all right' said Agatha, returning to earth with a bump. 'Let's go'
Leamington, or Royal Leamington Spa, to give it the full title which few people hardly ever use, was a relatively short drive and they arrived there in under an hour.
The day had become grey and overcast, but unusually mild. Although in the centre of the country, Agatha thought Leamington had the air of a seaside town like Eastbourne or- Brighton and kept expecting to turn a corner and see the sea.
James, to her irritation, said he wanted to view the public gardens before they started any detective work. Agatha stumped along angrily beside him while he enthused over plants and blossom. She was obscurely aware she was jealous of the scenery and wished some of his raptures could be directed at her. She glanced at him sideways. He was strolling easily along with his hands in his pockets, at peace with the world. She wondered what he thought about her. She wondered what he thought about anything. Why wasn't he married? Was he gay? And yet look at the way he had left that splendid clue to go running after a stupid bitch like Freda Huntingdon.
He was staring up in dazed wonder at the cascading blossoms of a cherry tree when Agatha suddenly snapped, 'Are we going to commune with nature all day, or are we going to get on with it?' He gave her a glance, half-rueful, half-amused, and all at once Agatha had a picture of him escorting some woman who would share his enthusiasm for the scenery, who would know all these county names he had talked about at that old manor house, and felt bullying and coarsegrained.
'All right' said James amiably, 'let's go'
He took out a small street map and consulted it. 'We can walk' he said. 'It's not far.'
They set off. 'Where does she work?' asked Agatha. 'Oh, and how did you find out about her?'
'I don't know where she works, but I got her address from Peter Rice in Mircester. She isn't a veterinary nurse, simply a sort of receptionist'
Agatha began to wonder if they were ever going to get there, James's idea of 'not far' not being her own. But they finally arrived at a long street of shops with flats above them. The shops had probably always been shops. The buildings were Georgian and run down, with cracked stucco and grimy fronts dating from the days before the Clean Air Act, when soot fell on everything.
It was six o'clock. Most of the little shops were closed and the street was quiet. Agatha could remember the
