Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

downstairs.

'How are you?' asked Jimmy with that warm smile of his which always lifted Agatha's heart.

'I don't seem to have suffered any damage at all,' said Agatha cheerfully. 'Although I do seem fated to get wet.' She told him about her visit to the cinema.

'Let's go into the lounge and have a drink,' said Jimmy. 'I took a look. No one's in there now.'

They walked in and sat down in front of the fire. 'I've got an exciting bit of news. Someone's turned himself in.'

'You've got the murderer!' The waiter appeared. Jimmy ordered drinks. When he had gone, Jimmy said, 'No, not the murderer. Some small-bit actor has confessed doing voices for Francie and Janine. They would describe the sort of voice they wanted. We found a pretty elaborate sound system in a lockup that Francie had rented on the outside of the town.'

'Has he been charged?'

'Yes, with conspiracy to defraud. But he'll probably just get a fine. He didn't really know he was doing anything wrong and he needed the money. He works for a repertory company over at Hadderton.'

'Did he know them well? I mean, can he shed any light on why someone would want to kill both of them?'

'I'm afraid not. He's quite old. Been doing bits for them on and off for years. He said he needed the money and as far as he was concerned, seances are only another form of theatre.'

'I keep thinking and thinking about it,' said Agatha. 'So many unanswered questions. To go back to the first murder, why was Francie's door unlocked? Did you ask Cliff about that?'

'He says he doesn't know anything about it,' said Jimmy. 'But this is usually a very safe town.' He grinned. 'Or rather, it was before you came along. A lot of people don't bother locking their doors.'

'Yes, but I can't help feeling Francie must have been up to something to get herself murdered. And she had cash in that box.'

'You forget. She really did have a reputation as a witch in this town. Normally no one would have dared to go near her.'

Agatha frowned. 'There's something else that keeps nagging away at the back of my mind. Wait a bit. I've got it! When you first told me that Francie kept records and you described what that lot at the hotel had consulted her about, you said that Jennifer of all people had asked for a love potion.'

'Yes. So?'

'But this is Jennifer we're talking about. She's practically married to Mary. Why would she want a love potion? Did you ask her?'

'No, I didn't,' he said slowly.

'I wonder if she'd tell me,' said Agatha.

'Let's talk about us.' Jimmy put his hand over Agatha's. 'When this is all over, I don't like the idea of you disappearing out of my life.'

'Well, I'll come back and see you.'

'I was thinking of something more permanent.'

Agatha thought longingly of James Lacey. He should have been holding her hand and suggesting something more permanent.

'Can we leave it a bit longer, Jimmy? I'm very fond of you, but I feel I need a little more time.'

'We'll take it easy, then.' Jimmy turned slightly pink. 'It's not because of my failure to ...'

'No, no,' said Agatha quickly. 'You'll find that side of things comes back easily.'

'Have you had a lot of experience?' he asked wistfully.

'Hardly any,' said Agatha, 'but women talk to each other the way men don't.'

'Then that's all right then. By the way, that girl who savaged your coat was charged.'

'What did she get?'

'Sixty days community service and ordered to pay fifty pounds compensation.'

'What! That coat cost a mint.'

'I'm afraid the magistrate, Mrs. Beale, is a vegetarian and does not approve of fur coats. You can pick your coat up at the police station'

Agatha shuddered. 'I don't want to see it again. You can have it, Jimmy. Give it to some charity.'

'I had a look at it. All it needs is the paint cleaned off and the slashes sewn up.'

'Not worth it. Someone else would probably have a go at me. That coat did mean a lot to me once. I saved and saved for it.'

'You could always use the fur to line a coat.'

'No, you have it. Give it away.'

'All right. What about Sunday? I don't know if I can get the time off with all this murder. But now the super's in charge, I'm taking a back seat.'

'Doesn't that bother you?' asked Agatha curiously.

'No, these things happen in a big case like this. With all the press breathing down our necks, I'm glad in a way not to be totally responsible for solving the case. I'd better be getting back.'

Agatha walked down to the promenade. The tide had receded. She walked to the sea-wall and looked over. The shingly beach was a mess of driftwood and debris: Coke cans, plastic cups, plastic wrappers, and even less savoury items of modern civilization, as if the whole sea had regurgitated all the unnatural mess on the beach.

And picking its way through the debris came a battered-looking white cat. Was that Francie's cat? Agatha made her way to a flight of stone steps leading down to the beach.

The cat came towards her and stopped. It was painfully thin and its white fur was matted and dirty.

'Oh, you poor thing,' said Agatha. She crouched down and held out her hand. 'Kitty, kitty.'

The cat gave a dry, rusty mew. Agatha tentatively stroked the wet fur.

Then she gathered the cat up in her arms and headed for the hotel.

Mr. Martin met her as she walked into the reception area and said severely, 'No pets allowed.'

'It's only for a little while,' said Agatha defensively. 'Look, I'll make sure it doesn't mess anything and I'll pay the fall hotel bill.'

Mr. Martin hesitated. He had been regretting his offer to pay her bill in compensation for the coat. And now, with this second murder, who knew when Agatha Raisin would leave?

'Very well,' he said. 'But do tell the others this is a one-off situation.'

Agatha carried the cat up to her room. She picked up the phone and ordered milk and a dish of canned tuna fish.

When it arrived, the cat ate greedily. I'd better go out and get a litter tray and stuff, thought Agatha.

She went down to reception and asked for the name of a car-rental company, and having secured it, ordered a taxi which drove her to the car-rental firm. She chose a small black Ford Fiesta, drove into the centre of the town and asked around for the whereabouts of a pet shop and was told there wasn't one, but that she could get most things at the supermarket. She bought cans of pet food, a litter tray, bags of litter and a brush.

When she had carried all the stuff up to her room, it was to find the cat in the middle of her bed, busy washing itself. 'I wonder what you are called?' said Agatha. 'I'll have to call you something. And what am I going to do with you? I'll need to find a home for you. It's not fair on Boswell and Hodge if I take you home. And aren't you mild and friendly? Not at all like the horror who flew at me.' Talking away, she sat down and began to brush the cat, which stretched languidly and purred. 'I know, I'll call you Scrabble. I'll always think of Scrabble when I think of Wyckhadden.'

As she brushed the cat, Agatha's thoughts turned to Jennifer. How was she to get her alone? She always seemed to be with Mary.

* * *

The following day, it was Jennifer herself who offered the solution. She was alone, eating breakfast when Agatha walked into the dining-room.

'Where's Mary?' asked Agatha.

'Got a bit of a migraine. She hasn't had one in ages. I've given her pills. She'll have a bit of a sleep and then