Agatha Raisin and The Wellspring of Death

of Hong Kong very rich.'

'Not all,' said Johnny. 'I was over there for a couple of years myself. There was one rumour about Guy Freemont you might like to hear.'

'Anything.'

'Right. They were in the clothes business, ran sweatshops, got them into trouble here but not in Hong Kong. But their business was doing well. Then they hit a snag. It's all whispers, of course.'

'What? What did people say?'

'The rumour was that Guy was crazy about mis Chinese girl and she did lead him on a bit, but then turned him down. It was said he raped her. Now this Guy Freemont thought no more about it. The girl was only Chinese. Chaps like Guy Freemont can think they're in love with a girl without respecting her one bit. But the girl's father was a very rich and powerful Chinese businessman. Evidently there was no proof other than the girl's word that Guy had raped her, and she had been fooling about with several men. But whatever happened, or whatever threats were laid on Guy, I don't exactly know, but the rumour is that he and his brother had to practically bankrupt themselves to buy Guy's way out of trouble. This was right before the Chinese took over. Mind you, it could all be exaggerated. You know what ex-pat communities are like, James. One gets hold of a story and embroiders it and then the other adds to it and passes it on.'

James rose to his feet, glancing at his watch. 'I'll pay for this and run, Johnny. I must get back to the country as soon as possible.'

But on the road back, James began to wish he were one of those mobile-phone users he so despised. His car, which had served him so well, came to a stop and refused to move. A motorist stopped and allowed James to use his mobile phone. Then James had to wait for the breakdown truck. Because his car was causing a bottleneck in the traffic, the breakdown man suggested he tow it straight to the garage and examine it there.

James went dark red with embarrassment in the garage when a laughing mechanic pointed out that all that was up with the car was that it had run out of petrol.

By the time James was able to phone Bill, the sun was setting, and he considered he had been panicking. He had found out Guy Freemont was probably a shifty businessman and a rapist, but that didn't make him a murderer. Anyway, he thought sourly, he didn't have to rape Agatha to get what he wanted.

But when he heard the anxiety in Bill's voice and that she was actually entertaining Guy Freemont, all his worries came flooding back. 'Don't phone Agatha,' Bill warned. 'If he's guilty, we don't want him alerted. I haven't time to tell you the rest; I'm on my way there.'

Agatha went to answer the door and let Guy in. 'Is it raining?' she asked, noticing wet drops glittering on his coat.

'Just started. Are you ready?'

'I thought we would eat here,' said Agatha. 'Let me take your coat.'

She helped him out of it and went to hang it in the hall closet. Her mind had been numb since she phoned Bill. All she could keep wondering was why, if it had been Portia all along, had she done it? She must be some sort of maniac. Should she tell Guy?

But as she slowly put the coat away, Agatha at last was struck by a blinding flash of the obvious. Guy was having an affair with Portia. Guy would have been at Portia's house. Guy could have got cat hairs on his clothes and transferred one to Robert Struthers's clothes. How many people had shouted at her that the Freemonts were guilty and she, the great PR, had refused to believe them? You don't murder for publicity, or do you?

She had better phone Bill. But Bill would be checking Portia, and if she had a Persian cat and was innocent, then they would focus their attention on Guy and, thank God, she had told Bill that Guy Freemont was coming to her house.

Agatha went slowly into the sitting-room and put a match to the fire and then stood looking down at the flames.

'Aren't you going to offer me a drink?' Guy's voice came from behind her.

She gave a little start. 'Sorry, I was daydreaming. Whisky?'

'Yes, please. Just a splash of soda.'

Agatha gave him a generous whisky and soda and poured herself a gin and tonic.

'I'm glad you decided to see me, Agatha,' said Guy. 'I thought you had dropped me.'

'Oh, we were never really an item,' said Agatha. She must play for time. If Bill found that cat and if it were all connected to Guy, then the police would arrive in force.

'I thought we were.'

'That's odd. Portia Salmond summoned me last night and told me you had been having an affair with her.'

'Agatha, Agatha. That was all a long time ago.'

'Can't have been. The water company's pretty new. You only hired Portia this year.'

'I knew her before.'

'In Hong Kong?'

His eyes narrowed. 'Been checking up on me, Agatha?'

'Of course. When I was approached to represent your company, I asked a few questions about your background.'

'And what did my busy little angel find out?'

'I found out you'd been in the rag trade and had moved back here when Hong Kong went over to the Chinese. Dreadful for those poor people in Hong Kong. They should all have been given British passports.'

'Come on, Agatha. They're Chinese, too.'

'So? They're people and they were British subjects.'

He shook his handsome head. 'I never took you for a liberal.'

'You mean the wogs begin at Calais?'

'Let's drop this. So boring. So you are a retired lady of leisure?'

'Yes, and I plan to enjoy it. How's the water business?'

'We are doing so well. Exporting to Europe and soon to America. And all thanks to the publicity.'

'I'll never understand that. When I see a bottle of Ancombe Water with the skull grinning on the label, all I can think of is poor Mr Struthers lying at the well and the water stained with his blood swirling around the basin.'

'Don't you see, Agatha? That's the secret.'

'The secret of what?'

'Advertising, promoting a product. There's a new health drink on sale which has a cannabis leaf on the label. Now it doesn't contain the drug-type hash because the cannabis in it is from the male leaf and it's only the female leaf which causes a high. Do you think people buy it because they think if 11 be healthy? No, they think, Maybe I'll get a high.'

'I'm still not with you. There's nothing in Ancombe Water but water, surely.'

'I discussed this with you before. All human beings are self-destructive. A lot of people go into health shops to buy stuff that will pep them up or slow them down but persuade themselves that as they are buying whatever in a health shop, it makes it all right. People will sozzle their brains in pubs with alcohol and sneer about junkies. Vegetarians stuff their faces with sugar. And in my opinion the health warning on a packet of cigarettes is one of the best advertisements going. People are drawn to death, Agatha, because of their fear of it, Eke people are drawn to the edge of a cliff. And never have people been more afraid of death than in this age.'

'I can't really go along with that,' said Agatha. 'People have very short memories. Ancombe Water was flashed around the world because of the murders, yes. But then they forget that and just remember they've heard about it. I don't believe that dicing with death has any attraction at all.' Agatha lit a cigarette.

Guy pulled a newspaper cutting out of his pocket. 'Oh, yes? Well, I've brought you a cutting about a hypnotist in Mircester. You do want to stop smoking, don't you?'

'Yes,' lied Agatha, who did not really in her heart want to stop at all. 'I'll get you another drink and then I'll fix dinner.'

'Okay. I'll join you in the kitchen.'