'Thanks for coming to see me, Agatha. I'd better get to work again, but I'll call on you as soon as I get some free time.'
Agatha gathered up her handbag and gloves. She took a quick glance at the tea-tray. The cup had been used.
He opened the door for her and bent down and kissed her cheek. 'You won't be bothered with press at the hotel. Mr. Martin is not allowing any of them to stay.'
* * *
When Agatha went into the dining-room that night, she found their numbers had been augmented by a man and woman. She studied them closely. They were sharing a bottle of claret and talking in low voices. The woman had short-cropped dark hair and was wearing a pin-striped trouser suit. The man was in a respectable charcoal-grey suit and modest tie. But there was a certain air of raffishness about him, and when Agatha entered the dining-room his eyes raked her up and down and he whispered something to the woman, who looked at Agatha as well.
Agatha sighed and turned about and went to the manager's office. 'I thought you weren't going to let the press into the hotel,' she said.
'I haven't,' said Mr. Martin. 'I've been very strict about that. The life-blood of this little hotel is supplied by the residents.'
'You've got two of them in the dining-room right now. Man and a woman.'
'But that is a Mr. and Mrs. Devenish, over here from Devon.'
'Did you ask for any identification?'
'No, we don't, if people are British. They sign the registration form and the visitors' book.'
Mr. Martin surveyed her with disfavour. 'I have been manager of this hotel for fifteen years, Mrs. Raisin, and I pride myself on being a good judge of character.'
'And I pride myself as being a good judge of the press. Come with me,' said Agatha wearily.
'If you make a scene, I will never forgive you.' But Mr. Martin followed her from the office. Agatha went straight up to the table where the couple were sitting. 'Which newspaper do you represent?' she asked.
The man and woman exchanged quick glances. 'We're just here on holiday,' the man said.
'Then you will not mind if Mr. Martin here asks you for some sort of identification. I am sure you would not like me to call the police in to check your credentials.'
'Okay, then,' said the woman with a shrug. 'We're from the
'I'll leave you to deal with it,' said Agatha to the outraged manager and went back to her table.
As she watched the press being told to leave, Agatha began to think again about the hotel residents. Just supposing one of them was a murderer. Did ordinary people such as they suddenly become murderous, or was there something in their backgrounds which would give her a clue? How could she find out? The police would simply check their records and if none of them had a record, they would not probe any further. Mary had suffered a nervous breakdown. But so did lots of people. She had learned a lot about Mary because of her love for Joseph Brady. The best way to get the others to talk was to get them alone. She decided to start with the colonel.
The colonel finished his dinner first and went through to the lounge. Agatha knew he would soon be followed by the rest and then that wretched Scrabble board would be brought out. She follow him into the lounge.
'Colonel,' said Agatha, 'I wonder if I could ask you a favour?'
'Certainly.'
'I am upset and uneasy. This second murder has really frightened me. I wondered if I could persuade you to come for a walk with me and perhaps stop somewhere for a drink? I know it's silly of me, but I feel I have to get out of the hotel and I am frightened to go on my own.'
He rose gallantly to his feet. 'I'll tell the others.'
'Do you mind if we don't? I don't feel like a crowd. You are such a sensible gentleman. I feel if I could talk to you about things, I would not feel so frightened.'
'Of course. Shall we get our coats? It's cold out.'
When they emerged from the hotel, they blinked in the glare of television lights and flashlights. 'We have nothing to say,' said the colonel firmly, taking Agatha's arm and shouldering his way through the pack. 'No, really. This is harassment.'
Agatha prayed that some more enterprising reporter would not break away from the pack and follow them. But the press too often hunted together, which is why a lot of them often missed out on stories, and they were left in peace.
A thin veil of cloud was covering the moon and the air felt damp. 'Rain coming,' said the colonel.
'The weather has been very changeable,' said Agatha, thinking two brutal murders have been committed and here we are, talking about the weather.
'I've been thinking,' began the colonel.
'Yes?' said Agatha eagerly.
'That last Scrabble game, Harry put down 'damn'. Now I pointed out we weren't allowed any swear words and if you remember he became quite angry, so I let it go.'
'It's a verb,' said Agatha crossly, 'as in damn with faint praise.'
The colonel's face cleared. 'How clever of you. I shall apologize to Harry.'
It was James Lacey who had quoted that once, thought Agatha bleakly.
'I think we should go to the Metropol for a drink,' said the colonel. 'It's rather a flashy sort of modern place, but the cocktail bar is suitable for ladies.'
The Metropol catered for the smarter, flashier, more painted geriatric. Women's faces grouted with layers of foundation cream. Face-lifts were still rare in England.
'I like trying new cocktails,' said the colonel, studying a card on the small plastic table. 'There's one here, the Wyckhadden Slammer. Let's try two of those.' He signalled to the cocktail waitress, a large elderly woman with a truculent face, and ordered the drinks. When they arrived, they turned out to be bright blue in colour with a great deal of fruit and with little umbrellas sticking out of the top.
'I wanted to talk about the murders,' began Agatha.
'Now why does a pretty lady like you want to talk about nasty things like that?' said the colonel roguishly. 'This is quite good.' He sipped his cocktail. 'Wonder how they get that blue colour?'
'I keep wondering who did it?'
'Oh, I'd leave that to the police. They may seem to be plodding but they are very thorough. They'll get there.'
'Have you no curiosity about the murders?'
The colonel took another sip of his blue drink. 'Not really. You see, I'm pretty sure it was the husband.'
Agatha decided to try another tack. 'Have you and the other residents known each other long?'
'Years, I suppose. We all used to come here on holiday and then, as we retired, we decided to stay.'
'It's an expensive hotel.'
'Mr. Martin is only too keen to give us special rates. Can't get people in the winter. Then there's all those silly people who go abroad for their holidays now. Why?'
'Sunshine?'
'Pah, all that does is cause skin cancer. The British skin was never meant to be exposed to the sun.'
'Did your wife come here with you?'
'Gudren enjoyed it here, yes. When I was in military service we travelled a lot, but we always tried to get here when I was on leave.'
'Don't any of you stay with your families?'
'I have a son. I stay with him at Christmas. Daisy goes to her sister then, Harry to his daughter, and--let me see--I think Jennifer and Mary stay on.'
'Do you ever quarrel? I mean, spending so much time together, year in and year out.'
'Quarrel? I don't think we have anything to quarrel about.' The colonel looked genuinely puzzled.
Agatha gave a little sigh. She was not going to get anything else out of the colonel. She would need to try one of the others. She refused his offer of another drink and said she was feeling tired. They walked back to the hotel.
