“Just my fists. Not even CS gas,” said Fred comfortably.
They drove him back to Agatha’s cottage. “Look at that!” exclaimed Agatha. “The light’s gone out.”
“Maybe you imagined it,” said Fred.
“No, I didn’t, did I, Roy?”
“Well, you did say you’d seen it, but maybe we imagined it,” said Roy.
“Can’t wait here all night.” Fred walked up to the door. “Your keys, Mrs. Raisin.”
Agatha handed him her door keys. Fred opened the door and Roy and Agatha crowded in behind him.
“Which way’s the living room?”
“Here.” Agatha pointed to the living-room door. Fred opened it and switched on the light.
“Look!” hissed Agatha.
A half-finished glass of whisky stood on a table and a newspaper was dropped on the floor.
“Not yours?” whispered Fred.
Agatha shook her head.
“Wait here.” Fred went off and looked in the dining-room and kitchen.
He came back. “I’ll just be taking a look upstairs.”
“I’m coming with you,” Agatha whispered back, not wanting to be left in the hall with only the weedy Roy for protection.
They followed Fred as he crept up the stairs. He opened Agatha’s bedroom door. Nothing and no one. Then the bathroom door. Sodden towels lay on the floor.
“I didn’t leave it like that,” muttered Agatha.
“Last room,” whispered Fred and opened the door of the spare bedroom. He fumbled and switched on the light.
Sir Charles Fraith lay in bed, fast asleep.
“Seen ‘im before with you, Mrs. Raisin,” Fred remarked.
“Oh,” said Agatha, weak at the knees with relief. “It’s only Charles. Just leave him.”
They backed out and went downstairs. “How did your boyfriend get in?” asked Fred with a grin.
“He’s not my boyfriend. Just a house guest. I gave him the spare set of keys. Look, Fred, it was very good of you. Roy’11 run you back.”
“I’ll walk. Nice night for it. Got a full house, hey?” Fred winked at Agatha, slapped her on the bottom and went off whistling.
“Bang goes your reputation, sweetie,” said Roy. “What a klutz you are! What’s with the baronet in the bed? You never told me about him. I mean, I didn’t know you were close”
“He’s just a friend,” protested Agatha. “He was staying here for a bit and then he left.”
“I’ve seen him recently.” Roy frowned. “Aha, he was in that restaurant in Stratford and with some girl and you never said a word.”
“Can we just leave the whole thing? I’m tired.”
“Have it your way. What’s the programme for tomorrow?”
“Nothing. I mean, what’s the point? We haven’t the resources of the police. I’m going to bed.”
“Come into the living-room a minute and let’s have a nightcap. We have to talk.”
“I told you, Roy, I’m dropping the case.”
“Dropping the case,” jeered Roy. “Hark at the great detective. I want to talk about us.”
Agatha’s bearlike eyes narrowed. “If you’ve come down here again in the name of friendship to twist my arm into going back into public relations, forget it.”
“I did come down here just to see you, but Mr. Wilson did happen to mention…” Mr. Wilson was Roy’s boss.
“I thought so,” said Agatha bitterly. “You’ll need to share a bed with Charles and I hope you’ll be very happy together.”
She made for the door. “I’m going to get my cats. I’ll run you to the station in the morning. Early train.”
“But, Aggie…”
“Good night.”
After Agatha had seen a still-protesting Roy off on the early-morning train, she returned to the cottage to find Charles sitting in the kitchen, wrapped in a dressing-gown and buttering toast.
“What the hell do you mean by creeping back here last night,” snapped Agatha. “I thought the murderer had broken in. I summoned the local bobby and he found you fast asleep.”
“That’s tunny.”
“It was not funny at all. So when you’ve finished your breakfast, please leave.”
Charles looked mildly at the flushed and angry Agatha.
“What’s got your knickers in a twist?”
“You, you insensitive, self-absorbed little bastard. You have sex with me, bugger off and then tell me you’re in love.”
“Was in love. Was.”
“Then you couldn’t have been in love in the first place.”
“You’re probably right. Do sit down. I’ve made some coffee. It’s as hot as the steam coming out of your ears.”
Agatha’s rage subsided. She felt suddenly weary. She sat down.
“Did you not think, Charles, that your behaviour towards me was selfish and insensitive?”
“No, Aggie. I thought we had fun. Then I had these guests and there was this girl, eminently suitable.”
“That doesn’t sound like love.”
“It sounds like marriage. I really think I ought to get married. Get an heir and all that.” He waved a piece of buttered toast in the air. “But she didn’t even like me. Met some friend in a restaurant in Stratford and went off with him and left me flat. So I thought, I’d best get back and see what Aggie’s up to.”
“Just don’t come on to me again!”
“You, Aggie, were the one who crept into my bed.”
“For comfort, not sex.”
“I thought the sex very comfortable.”
“You’re not only immoral, Charles, you’re amoral.”
“Perhaps. How’s the case?”
Agatha sighed. “Dead in the water. I went to Portsmouth.”
“And?”
Agatha told him about Harriet.
“It’s a wonder you didn’t stay on in Portsmouth. It’s probably crawling with blackmailers of the wicked hairdresser.”
“John’s ex-wife probably knows all about it, but she could be anywhere in the country now. The police have the resources to trace her. I don’t. Oh, and I found out something else.” She told him about Jessie and Mavis.
Charles listened intently. Then he said, “Run that bit about Mavis past me again.”
Agatha looked at him in surprise but repeated what had happened during her interview with Mavis.
“And you believed her?” Charles reached across the table and fished a cigarette out of Agatha’s packet.
“Why not? She seemed a straightforward, honest woman. Her home was clean and tidy. It had the atmosphere of a happy family home.”
“I’d like to meet her.”
“Why?”
“She just sounds too good to be true.”
“Oh, well, I suppose you won’t be satisfied until you’ve met her. I never checked to see if you’d packed and taken your clothes away.”
“No, I rushed off and left them. I’ll go and dress and we’ll be off.”
“I wonder if she’ll be at home,” said Agatha as she turned off the by-pass and into the Four Pools Estate. “Perhaps we should have phoned first.”
“Better to surprise her,” said Charles. “Got another cigarette?”
