Agatha Raisin and The Walkers of Dembley

'If he wants me back on the case, will you come with me?' asked Agatha.

He looked down at her, his eyes twinkling. 'Why not?'

'So what of your ideas that Sir Charles and Gustav are murderers?' asked Bill when James had disappeared indoors.

'Oh, I was just joking,' mumbled Agatha. If James were successful, then he and she could go detecting again, and that pillock, Gustav, wouldn't matter a bit.

James got Sir Charles on the phone. 'I gather you had a friend of mine, Agatha Raisin, over for lunch,' he said after introducing himself.

'Oh, her,' said Sir Charles. 'That little rambler, Deborah Camden, you'll have seen her name in the papers over this business, she said this Mrs Raisin of yours was a whiz, but I thought she was a rather odd woman with one massive chip on her shoulder.'

James laughed. 'She has her methods, Watson. But, by God, she gets results. Do you know how she started detecting? When she arrived first in this village, she wanted to make her mark by winning a quiche-baking competition. So she bought a quiche in London and put it in as her own. One of the judges dropped dead after eating it, so she had to find out who did it.'

Sir Charles chuckled appreciatively. 'Sounds like a character.'

'Furthermore, Agatha and I have worked on some cases together. Don't turn her down. She's good.'

'I'll try again.' Sir Charles sounded suddenly weary. 'Why don't both of you come over for a drink?'

'Right,' said James. 'What time? Sixish?'

'That'll be fine.'

James returned in triumph to the garden. 'I think you're on again, Agatha,' he said. 'We're going to Barfield House for drinks at six.'

'What! This evening? I've hardly sobered up from lunchtime.'

'Then drink mineral water.'

James looked at Bill. 'Why no stern admonitions to keep out of it?'

Bill grinned. 'Because the police are baffled. I can't see the pair of you getting into much trouble over a few drinks with Sir Charles Fraith. He's hardly likely to poison you when he's under suspicion.'

Agatha looked at her watch. 'It's five!' she said. 'I'd better go and repair myself.' She looked at James shyly. 'What should I wear?'

'I don't know,' said James. 'We're going on business, so wear anything that's comfortable. I'll drive.'

It was a different Agatha who was driven up the drive to Barfield House by James. She felt armoured by James. At first she had rehearsed how to explain her outburst but then decided a dignified silence on the subject would be the better policy.

Gustav opened the door to them. His eyes flicked up and down Agatha, making her feel that a plain green wool dress was not at all the thing to wear, and then led them to the sitting-room.

Sir Charles nodded to Agatha and welcomed James enthusiastically.

Gustav served drinks - Agatha stuck to mineral water - and then Sir Charles began. 'We seemed to get off on the wrong foot,' he said to Agatha.

'Waste of time, if you ask me,' said Gustav to the panelled wall.

James's head jerked round. 'Leave us alone, Gustav,' he said sharply. 'This is too important a discussion to be interrupted by your cheeky comments.'

Gustav looked at Sir Charles, who nodded, and he left the room.

'How can you put up with that man?' asked James.

'What's up with him?'

'He has a reputation for insolence.'

'I haven't noticed,' said Sir Charles, 'and since he's my man, it's got bugger-all to do with you.'

'Well, your problem.' James shrugged. 'Now, tell me how you got into this mess.'

Agatha, now able to relax - it was just a house, after all, and Sir Charles just a man - nonetheless studied the baronet closely while he talked.

It all seemed very believable this time, now that she no longer found either him, or her circumstances, threatening. He explained at length how Gustav, returning from a visit to the keeper's cottage, had reported seeing Jessica approaching the field. Confident of soothing her, he had gone out to meet her. How had he known who she was? Deborah had described her quite accurately. When he had seen her jumping and trampling around with her great boots, he had lost his rag. He had called her a silly little girl and that had seemed to get up her nose no end, said Sir Charles with a certain amount of remembered satisfaction. Had he threatened her in any way?

For the first time Sir Charles looked uncomfortable. 'There was something so arrogant, so unpleasant about her that I told her I was going to get my shotgun and blast her if she didn't get off my land. I didn't tell the police that.'

'Why did you lie? Why did you say you were in London?' asked James.

'We're a very close-knit community at Barfield, the keepers, the estate workers, the farm workers - didn't know about the horrible Noakes, he was taken on recently - and I didn't brief them, I just expected them to go along with my story.'

'That seems a bit naive,' commented James.

'It does now. Now I'm in a mess, and with the police looking in my direction, they aren't likely to do their job properly, which is finding out the real murderer. I've been thinking,' he said earnestly, leaning back in a winged chair and cradling his glass in both hands against his chest, 'I'm an easygoing sort of bod, and yet look how she riled me up. I think that lover of hers, what's-his-name, did for her. Anyway, how are you going to find out anything the police can't?'

'For a start,' said Agatha, speaking for the first time, 'James and I could move to Dembley, take a flat, pose as man and wife and join the Dembley Walkers. What better way is there to get to know them?'

James showed signs of alarm, but Sir Charles said enthusiastically, 'What a good idea. I've some property in Dembley and I think there's a furnished flat vacant. Wait there. I'll call up my man and find out.'

He went out of the room. 'Agatha,' said James, 'you should have asked me first if I could spare the time to move to Dembley and if I wanted to pretend to be your husband.'

'If you don't want to do it, don't,' said Agatha.

'I didn't say that,' said James. 'It's just it's a big thing to do.'

Agatha forced herself to remain calm. 'As I said,' she remarked in as even a tone as she could manage, 'I'm quite prepared to go ahead on my own.'

Sir Charles came back. 'That's settled, then. There's a jolly nice apartment in Sheep Street, bang in the centre of Dembley. You can move in as soon as you like.'

There was a little silence. Agatha held her breath.

'All right,' said James. 'I'm not getting on very far with the writing anyway.'

'What are you writing?' Sir Charles asked.

'Military history.'

'Which period?'

'Napoleonic wars.'

'My father was a great history buff. Gustav put a lot of his books up in one of the attics. Would you like to have a rummage?'

James's eyes shone. 'I'd love that.'

'I'll take you up. Want to stay here, Mrs Raisin?'

But Agatha was appalled at the idea of being left in a room which Gustav might enter, and eagerly volunteered to go with them.

When James and Agatha finally drove off together, James clutching a pile of old books, Agatha tried not to listen to his enthusiastic descriptions of the treasures he had found and how he was dying to get started writing again.

For a brief period she was to be Mrs Lacey, albeit in name only.

But who knew what delights that could lead to!