than Mrs. Witherspoon is behind these hauntings, we might see someone hanging about the house. In fact, it might be exciting. Be a good chap and say yes.”
“I am not a chap,” said Agatha, irritable in her disappointment. Why did fellows never speak the script one had written for them?
But going on with the investigation meant going on in his company. “All right,” she said.
“Grand. We’ll pick up the machine and then get a bite to eat. My treat.”
Agatha’s spirits, which had plummeted, soared up again.
While Paul was led off to identify his CD player and sign the relevant papers, Agatha asked the sergeant at the desk whether she could use the loo. Once inside a white-tiled institutionalized toilet smelling strongly of disinfectant, she opened her capacious handbag and got to work, cleaning off the makeup she had so recently applied and adding a new coat of foundation, powder, blusher and eye shadow. Then she sprayed herself liberally with Ysatis and returned to the reception area. Where would he take her for dinner? Surely somewhere nice.
Paul finally reappeared, accompanied by Bill Wong and a small blonde policewoman whom Bill introduced as Haley. “I’ve asked them to join us,” said Paul cheerfully. “Bill says the Dog and Duck does a good meal.”
Agatha stifled a sigh. Bill’s taste in food was appalling.
The Dog and Duck was one of those pubs that the modern taste for smart bistro-style hostelries had passed by. A snooker table dominated one end of the room. Fruit machines flashed and blinked in the dim smoky light. The bar was crowded with plain-clothed and uniformed police and CID. A menu was chalked up on a board. Agatha gloomily read it. Lasagne and chips, curry and chips, egg, sausage and chips, hamburger and chips, fish and chips, and quiche and chips. So much for her idea of a romantic evening.
Bill started to ask Agatha how various people in Carsely were getting on and when she had finished replying, she noticed, with extreme irritation, that Paul appeared to be flirting with Haley, who was giggling appreciatively.
Haley had a round face and narrow blue eyes. Her hair was what Agatha privately described as “cheap blonde”-but what man had ever been put off by that?
“Paul’s ever so clever,” said Haley, “He’s promised to come round to my place one day and help me with my computer.”
“Oh,” said Agatha sharply. “I thought all you police were computer-literate these days.”
“I only know the basics,” said Haley. She pulled out a notebook. “Here! Let me write down my address and phone number for you.”
Agatha and Bill watched her gloomily as she wrote down her details and handed them to Paul.
“How old are you?” asked Agatha abruptly.
“Twenty-seven,” said Haley. She giggled again. “Ever so old.”
“You’ve a long way to go before you are as old as either me or Paul,” said Agatha sweetly.
“Terrible for a woman to be old,” said Haley. “I mean, doesn’t matter so much for men. I fancy older men. Here’s our food.”
The food was as awful as Agatha had thought it would be. She had ordered fish and chips, thinking that even this pub could not muck up such a simple dish, but the fish was thin and dry and the chips of the frozen variety.
She watched with horrified fascination as Haley dredged her lasagne in ketchup and began eating with every sign of relish.
Bill and Paul had both ordered sausage, egg and chips.
Haley ate steadily and then leaned back with a sigh of satisfaction. “That was good.”
She surveyed Agatha. “I hear you’re a bit of a Miss Marple.”
A vision of Miss Marple as played on television rose before Agatha’s eyes and she began to feel ancient.
“I have done some detective work, yes,” she said.
“Anything at the moment?”
“Came to nothing,” said Agatha, pushing her plate away. “We were supposed to be investigating a haunted house.”
Haley clutched Paul’s arm and let out a shriek. “I’m ever so afraid of ghosts.”
“Have you seen one?” asked Paul, smiling down at her.
“No, but my gran has. She was up in this old hotel in the Highlands of Scotland once and she woke up during the night and saw a man standing at the foot of her bed.”
“Was he wearing a kilt?” asked Agatha cynically.
“Yes, he was. And he looked ever so fierce. My gran, she got the Gideon Bible out of the drawer beside the bed and held it up and he disappeared.”
“Gosh!” said Paul. “How scary. I remember hearing a story about…”
He proceeded to relate several ghost stories while Haley alternately giggled and shrieked and clutched his arm more tightly.
Agatha was relieved when Bill finally looked at his watch and said, “I have to go.”
“I don’t,” said Haley, and Agatha’s heart sank.
“But we do,” said Paul firmly. “It’s been a delight to meet you, Haley.”
“You will let me know when you’re coming round?”
“Absolutely.”
“What a disgusting meal,” said Agatha as they drove off.
“Yes, wasn’t it? Anyway, we’d better get back and prepare for our night watch.”
“What time do you want to set out?”
“About midnight.”
“Do you really think we should?”
“Why not? Let’s have a go anyway. Is Haley Bill’s girlfriend?” asked Paul.
“Not yet, and possibly not ever after the way you went on tonight.”
“Oho! Jealous, Agatha?”
“Don’t flatter yourself, Humbert Humbert. You didn’t give Bill a chance.”
“She didn’t give Bill a chance. Don’t let’s quarrel. I think we should park outside the village and wear dark clothes.”
Agatha looked at her watch as they neared Carsely. Eleven o’clock. Just time to get something to eat to make up for having barely touched the fish and chips, and then get changed.
She resolved not to torture herself anymore by trying on outfit after outfit. It was time to grow up and move on. Dressing for men meant never feeling secure, never feeling comfortable. She had eaten a microwaved curry, without ever reflecting on the irony of a woman such as herself who could sneer at pub food and yet hardly ever prepared a decent meal. She put on a pair of black trousers, a black sweater, flat shoes and the minimum of make- up and was ready when Paul rang her doorbell.
Paul thought briefly that there was something rather sexy about grumpy Agatha. Her skin was good and her mouth generous, her bust and hips very beddable, but then he concentrated on the night ahead.
Fortunately it was quite warm and the sky above was clear. Like Agatha, he was dressed in black trousers and a black sweater. “I hope you’ve got something for your head,” she said. “That white hair of yours shines out like a beacon.”
“I’ve got something. We’ll need to use your car again. I’m taking mine to the garage tomorrow. I’ve ordered another top for it, but I’ll also buy something to run around in, the type of old banger I won’t care about too much if it gets vandalized.”
“You should get a security alarm put in that old MG of yours,” said Agatha.
“I probably will.” He put a heavy bag in the back seat of Agatha’s car and then got into the passenger seat at the front.
“What’s in the bag?” asked Agatha.
“Some refreshments and a pair of binoculars. It’s going to be a long night.”
As they approached Hebberdon, Paul said, “Slow down. There’s a good place. That farm entrance under the trees. Reverse into it.”
Agatha went in, nose-first. “Don’t you know women drive forwards, not backwards?”
