Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

'As soon as you give me permission to leave this hell-hole, I'm going,' said Agatha. She picked up her gin and tonic and took a swallow and shuddered. 'Too early in the day for me.'

'It's two in the afternoon.'

'I've missed lunch.'

'Come on and I'll take you for a bite of something.'

Agatha stared at him. He was smiling again. Was there something in that love potion after all?

'I'll just go up and get my coat.'

Once in her room, Agatha unwound the scarf from her head, picked up the bottle of hair restorer and rubbed the lotion into the bald patches. If that love potion could make Jimmy smile at her again, then there might be something in the witch's products. Then she wound the scarf round her head again, put on her coat, and went downstairs.

'Aren't you supposed to avoid socializing with suspects?' she asked.

'I have a few hours off, and if anyone sees us, they'll only think I'm grilling you for more information.'

'Have you questioned the other residents of this hotel?'

'The police have been taking statements from them all morning.'

They went outside. The press clamoured to know if Agatha was being arrested.

'No,' said Jimmy curtly. 'And don't follow us or you'll get no more information out of me. And move away from the entrance of the hotel. I've already warned you.' But cameras clicked in Agatha's face and a television camera was shoved in her face. Head down, and taking Jimmy's arm, she walked with him along the promenade.

He turned up one of the side streets and led her to a small cafe. There was a NO SMOKING sign on the door. Agatha thought that perhaps she should have asked the witch for a cure for smoking.

They sat down at a table. Agatha picked up a small menu. The cafe specialized in 'light snacks.' She ordered quiche and salad and Jimmy ordered a pot of tea.

'So you were playing Scrabble with the other residents?' began Jimmy.

'Yes, I told you.'

'What are they like?'

'I haven't really got to know them that well. It was Daisy Jones who recommended Francie. She seems quite keen on Colonel Lyche, but he doesn't notice her. He seems pretty set in his ways. Then there's Jennifer Stobbs and Mary Dulsey and Harry Berry. What did we talk about? Well, Scrabble, letters, words. Nothing personal apart from 'Would you like another drink, Mrs. Raisin?''

'Did any of them leave during the game?'

'Daisy Jones went to powder her nose but she used the downstairs loo. Colonel Lyche went to get drinks from the bar. So did Mr. Berry. I don't suppose any of them have a horrible past.'

'We're digging into it. Francie Juddle kept an appointments book. They all consulted her.'

'Ah!' Agatha's eyes gleamed.

'Daisy Jones consulted her because she ran seances and Daisy wanted to get in touch with her late husband. The colonel has a liver complaint. Jennifer Stobbs asked for a love potion.'

'Who for? I mean, who was she going to use it on?'

'She insists it was for a friend. Mary Dulsey for warts, Harry Berry for rheumatism.'

'What a gullible lot!'

'You went to Francie yourself,' said Jimmy.

'Did she have me in her book?' asked Agatha.

'Yes, hair tonic.' Agatha heaved a sigh of relief. No mention of love potion.

'But apart from the residents at the hotel,' Jimmy was saying, 'an awful lot of the townspeople went to Francie.'

'Did she make a good living out of it?'

'Yes, I believe she was a wealthy woman, but we're checking with her solicitor to see how much she left.'

'What about family?'

'She has a daughter, Janine, who will probably inherit and who may take over the business.'

'It's probably her.'

'Doubtful. She visited her mother often and appeared very fond of her.'

'Is she married?'

'Yes, to a layabout called Cliff Juddle.'

'Juddle! Did she marry her cousin, or what?'

'Something like that. The Juddles are gypsies.'

'So couldn't this Cliff have bumped her off?'

'Anything's possible,' said Jimmy. 'But folk say that Janine is a very bossy woman, very tough. If Cliff killed the mother hoping to get his hands on the daughter's money, he wouldn't have much of a chance. Janine holds the purse-strings.'

'What does she do?'

'Same as her mother, but over in Hadderton. She may move here because the mother's was the more profitable business. There's a lot of old residents in Wyckhadden and the old have ailments and some of the older generation are superstitious. We raided a couple of her seances but could find nothing phoney, like muslin, or tapes, or things under the table to make it move. Mind you, these things do leak out and I always felt she had been forewarned.'

'But there must be trickery somewhere!'

'Oh, I'm sure there is but we were never able to find any.'

Agatha's quiche arrived. After she had eaten it she still felt hungry and looked longingly at the display of cakes.

'Like a cake?' asked Jimmy, following her gaze.

'Well...'

'I'll have one as well.'

'Oh, in that case ...'

May as well make a good job of it, thought Agatha, ordering a slice of chocolate fudge cake. The menu boasted, 'We sell the best gateau cakes.' I wonder what the French tourists make of that one, thought Agatha.

The cake was delicious.

'So do I still have to stay in Wyckhadden?' asked Agatha.

'Yes, I'm afraid you do. And I forgot to tell you, my detective sergeant, Peter Carroll, will be on duty soon and he wants to ask you a few more questions. I'll walk you round to the police station when you're ready.'

'Aren't you coming?'

'I'm going home for a couple of hours' sleep. Ready to go?'

Detective Sergeant Peter Carroll was a thin-faced man with a courteous manner which belied his seemingly endless capacity for asking probing questions. Agatha described again the events of the previous night, although now the whole thing was beginning to seem unreal. The interview room had a high window through which sunlight shone. Dust motes floated in the sunbeams. The table at which Agatha sat was scarred and stained with the rings of many coffee cups and cigarette burns. The walls were painted that sour shade of lime green so beloved by bureaucracy in Britain.

Agatha was beginning to feel sleepy again. 'So we go back to the reason you left in the middle of the night to wake up a woman you just thought might have vandalized your coat. Why?' asked Carroll.

'I am by way of being an amateur detective,' said Agatha. Carroll consulted a fax on the papers in front of him and gave a brief cynical smile. Probably a fax from Wilkes telling them I'm an interfering busybody, thought Agatha. 'Since Mrs. Juddle had criticized my wearing of the coat, I thought she might have had something to do with it. I thought if I paid her a surprise visit, she might still have traces of paint on her hands.'

There was a knock at the door and then it opened and Tarret's head appeared around it. 'A word, sir.'

'Excuse me.' Carroll went out. A policewoman seated in the corner by the tape machine stared stolidly ahead.