Agatha Raisin & the Vicious Vet

Determined to be as remote and cool as possible, Agatha served James with another cup of coffee and then sat at the far end of the table from him. More for something to say than because she was interested, she said, 'So you think someone might have murdered Paul Bladen?'

'It did cross my mind' he said. 'I mean, it would be so easy to do. Creep up on him when he had a syringe full, knock him on the head . . . No that won't do. He hadn't been knocked on the head'

'But he might have been' said Agatha. 'I mean, he had a lump on his head. They decided he might have got it falling on the floor, but he was lying on his side.'

'I suppose the police know what they are doing' said James. 'I mean, if anyone else had been around Lord Pendlebury's racing stables, he or she would have been seen. This is the country. You can't sneak around places quietly like you can in the city'

'I wonder' said Agatha. 'I would like to see those racing stables. Do you know Lord Pendlebury?'

'No. But all you have to do is go up there and ask him to contribute to one of those charities you're always raising money for. Then, when you leave the house, all you have to do is go to the stables and take a look around'

'I wish you would come with me,' said Agatha. He looked at her nervously, but she had not said it in any flirtatious way.

He thought of the work he had to do, he thought of the joys of writing and found himself saying, 'I don't see why not. We could go up this afternoon, say, about two'

'That is very kind of you' said Agatha calmly. She saw him to the door, ushered him out, and then performed a war dance in her little hall. The impossible was about to happen. She was going to spend an afternoon with James Lacey.

By two o'clock, Agatha, weary of trying on clothes, had settled for a cherry-red sweater, a neat tweed skirt, brogues, and a sheepskin coat.

She stood by the window of the dining-room, which faced the front of the house, so that she could watch him arriving. And there he came with his long rangy stride. Although in his fifties, he was a handsome man, over six feet tall, with crisp dark hair with only a trace of grey, humorous eyes and a powerful nose. He was wearing a moth- eaten old shooting sweater with worn suede patches on the shoulders over a checked shirt and olive-green cords. Agatha had a good stare at him to compensate for the fact that she intended to remain cool and detached when she actually met him again.

Lord Pendlebury's home, Eastwold Park, lay at the end of a long drive which led off the road from the village. Agatha felt quite elated. The only time she had been inside the doors of a grand house before was as a tourist. She wondered if she should curtsy - no, that was for royalty - and should she call him 'my lord'? Best to watch how James Lacey went on and copy him.

They drove up and parked outside the front of one of those rambling Cotswold mansions which cover quite a bit of ground without appearing to do so. The door was answered not by a butler, but by one of the village women, Mrs Arthur, wearing an overall and brushing wisps of grey hair from her eyes. Mrs Arthur was a member of the Carsely Ladies' Society, but Agatha had not known she worked for Lord Pendlebury.

'I wanted to ask Lord Pendlebury if he would contribute to our fund-raising for Save the Children' said Agatha.

'You can ask' said Mrs Arthur. 'No harm in asking, I always say' She stayed put.

'Why don't you ask Lord Pendlebury then if we may see him?' demanded James Lacey.

'On your own heads be it,' said Mrs Arthur. 'He's in the study, over there' She jerked a thumb towards a door at the end of the hall.

It was all very disappointing, thought Agatha, as she followed James Lacey across the hall. There should have been a butler to take a visiting card on a silver tray. But James was already holding open the study door for her.

Lord Pendlebury was seated in a battered leather armchair before a dying wood fire. He was fast asleep.

'Well, that's that,' whispered Agatha. James crossed to the window. 'The stable block is out the back' he said, not bothering to lower his voice. 'You can see it from here'

'Shhh' urged Agatha. The room was so silent, book-lined, dim, with two walls of calf-bound books, a large desk, bowls of spring flowers on odd little tables, and the solemn tick of clocks intensifying the silence.

'Who are you?' Lord Pendlebury was awake now and staring straight at her.

Agatha jumped and said, 'I am Agatha Raisin from Carsely. The gentleman there is Mr Lacey' She longed to call him Colonel but was sure James would object. 'I am collecting money on behalf of the Carsely Ladies' Society for Save the Children'

Like an American swearing the oath of allegiance, Lord Pendlebury put an arm across his chest, no doubt to protect his wallet.

'I have already given money to Cancer Research' he said.

'But this is Save the Children'

'I don't like children' said Lord Pendlebury petulantly. 'Too many of them. Go away'

Agatha opened her mouth to blast him, but James Lacey said quickly, Tine-looking stables you have, sir. Mind if we walk over and take a look?'

'Doesn't matter if I mind, does it?' said Lord Pendlebury. 'A landowner no longer has any privacy. If it's not busybodies like you, it's those damn environmentalists, walking over my land with their rucksacks, eating health- food nut bars and farting. Do you know what causes the damage to the ozone layer? It's health fanatics, eating ghastly bran and nut bars and farting about the landscape. Sending out poisonous gases and wind. Ought to be put down'

'Quite' said James indifferently while Agatha glared at Lord Pendlebury.

'You don't seem a bad sort of chap' said Lord Pendlebury, peering at James in the gloom of the study. 'But that woman looks like one of those hunt saboteurs, slavering on about the darling foxes'

'Listen, you' said Agatha, advancing on him.

James took her firmly by the arm and guided her towards the door. 'Thank you for your kind invitation, Lord Pendlebury' he said over his shoulder. 'We shall enjoy seeing your stables'

'Rude old bugger' raged Agatha when they were out in the hall.

James shrugged. 'He's old. Leave him be. We get to see the racing stables and that's why we came'

But Agatha was still smarting. She felt she had been grossly insulted. Worse than that, she thought Lord Pendlebury had been able to see right through her expensive sheepskin and sweater, right down into her working- class soul.

'I'm going to have a firm talk with Mrs Arthur' said Agatha as they walked together towards the stable block. 'She could probably earn more working in a factory or a supermarket'

'She and her husband work for Lord Pendle-bury' pointed out James Lacey. 'They get a rent-free cottage on the estate and all the free vegetables they want from the market garden. Anyway, you want to persuade Mrs Arthur to leave to get your revenge on the old man because he thought you were a flatulent fox preserver'

This was the truth, and so Agatha decided James was really quite an uninteresting and charmless man after all.

The other thing that was irritating was that although James Lacey had spent less time in and around the village compared to herself, he seemed to know a remarkable number of people. He hailed Lord Pendlebury's trainer, Sam Stodder, and introduced him to Agatha.

'Lord Pendlebury said we could take a look around the stables, Mr Stodder' said James. 'Sad thing about that vet's death, wasn't it?'

'Sad, for sure. Happened right over there. He were doing that operation to stop Sparky roaring'

'And no one else was about at the time?'

'No. Lord Pendlebury had a new filly out in the paddock and took us all off to have a look. We was all talking and smoking and admiring the filly, 'cos it's not often the old man lets us slack. Devil for work, he is. Then Bob Arthur, him what does for my lord, he strolls off and says he's going for to see how the vet is getting on and the next thing he comes out, yelling and crying that Bladen is dead. 'Looks like someone's done fer him,' he says, so his