wallet, “your information is no use to us without a statement.”
Luke looked at her hungrily. He was dying for a drink. Did he really want to go back to work? Winter was drawing closer and he thought another winter on the streets might kill him.
But the thought of the police terrified him. They would probably accuse him of being in league with this killer.
There came a peremptory knock at the door and a voice called in English, “Police. Open up!”
Luke hung his head. The fates had made up his mind for him.
TWELVE
AGATHA was never to forget that long night of questioning and more questioning. Then she was told that when they got off the plane in the morning, a police car would be waiting at Birmingham for them.
She and Charles were both groggy with lack of sleep when they arrived at Birmingham Airport. And got into the waiting police car.
“They’ve got to let us rest,” grumbled Agatha. “I can’t take much more of this.”
They both fell asleep as the police car raced towards Mirces-ter. At police headquarters, they were told they would be interrogated separately.
Agatha was to be interviewed by Fother from the Special Branch and Detective Inspector Wilkes.
“Before we begin,” said Agatha urgently, as a policeman was putting a tape in the recoding machine, “have you arrested Laggat-Brown?”
“Yes, he’s been brought in for questioning.”
“I suppose he’s saying he got Luke to impersonate him for a joke.”
“He tried, but we took that office of his apart. He was still renting it, although he no longer uses it. Under the floorboards, we found the sniper rifle and a supply of timers. Now, Mrs. Raisin, let us begin. We find it most odd that you suddenly thought he might have found someone to impersonate him. We think you have been holding back evidence from the police.”
“It was just an idea,” said Agatha wearily. She told the story of Phyllis and the recovered alcoholic.
“But why Felicity Felliet?”
“The Felliets were deeply humiliated by the loss of their ancestral home. I wondered, simply because of the Paris connection, if she had been in on the plot in any way. Have you got her?”
“We’re looking. She seems to have disappeared and her parents have not had any contact with her. But we find it hard to believe that you just plucked this idea out of thin air. Are you sure you weren’t in league with Laggat-Brown and that the relationship went sour?”
“No,” shouted Agatha. “And get me a cup of coffee before I fall asleep.”
The questioning went on for hours, and just when Agatha thought she really could not bear any more of it, they told her she could go home, but not to leave the country.
Agatha met Charles as he was leaving as well. “Do we need a police car?” asked Agatha.
“No, I gave them my car keys and told them to collect my car from the airport.”
“My car’s out at your place.”
“I’ll come over tonight with Gustav. He can drive yours and then I’ll take him back with me.”
Agatha let herself into her cottage. She checked the cats’ food bowls to make sure Doris had given them something, went straight up and fell face-down on the bed and into a deep sleep, only to be awakened four hours later with the sound of the doorbell ringing.
She debated whether to let it ring, but then decided it might be Mrs. Bloxby. She trudged wearily down the stairs and opened the door. Bill Wong stood there, holding a bunch of flowers.
“You look as if you’ve been through the wars,” said Bill.
“Flowers. How lovely. Come in, Bill. What on earth’s been happening?”
He followed her through to the kitchen. “It’s like this. I had a time of it explaining about how your mad ideas and intuitions had worked out in the past. Laggat-Brown cracked when they produced the rifle and timers.
“It seemed he made his money supplying timers for bombs to the Provisional IRA and other terrorist groups. Then he met Felicity Felliet and fell in love. He wanted out of the terrorist business and she wanted her home back. He really did mean to shoot his wife.
“Then Felicity heard that Charles had been round to see her parents, asking questions about her. She checked up old newspaper files on you, Agatha, and persuaded Laggat-Brown you were more dangerous than the police. He didn’t want to do the hit himself, but he had plenty of contacts and employed Mulligan to do it.
“He then decided to remarry his wife and after a convenient time arrange a death for her that would look like an accident. After the attempt to gas you failed, he became wary of getting anyone to try to kill you—for the moment, that was.
“Employing Luke, the drunk, was a spot of luck for him, or so he thought. It was Felicity who saw Luke one day and noticed the remarkable resemblance.”
“She’s beginning to sound like Lady Macbeth.”
“Yes,” said Bill, “she seems to have been a major player in the whole business. She worked for a while as Laggat-Brown’s secretary and then they both decided it would be better if she moved to Paris so that there would be less chance of anyone seeing them together.
“After he had finally got rid of his wife, he would inherit her money, marry Felicity and Felicity would get her old home back.”
“And what about Harrison Peterson?”
“It turns out Harrison Peterson was a bagman for the Provisional IRA, moving funds around the world, taking cash to the Colombian terrorists, that sort of thing. He wanted out of the game, too, and was going to talk to the police, after he had talked to Patrick. It was Laggat-Brown who had your phone bugged. He heard Patrick’s message and knew Harrison had to be eliminated. He also knew he would have to do it himself because Harrison would trust him enough to let him in.”
“And no one has any idea of where Felicity is at the moment?”
“No, but I don’t think she’d dare try anything. I don’t think she cared a rap for Laggat-Brown. I think she was simply using him to get her home back. Her poor parents are devastated. Don’t worry. We’re looking for her and Interpol are looking for her and Special Branch are trying to track her down. The only sad thing is that you’ll get no credit for solving this case.” “Why not?”
“Well, to quote Fother, ’I’m damned if the papers are going to know that some dotty female from a provincial detective agency cracked a case that the Special Branch could not.’“
“I could phone them myself,” said Agatha.
“Not before the trial, you can’t.”
“I suppose not. I’ll phone Patrick and tell him I’m taking the day off tomorrow. All I want to do is sleep and then get my face and hair done.”
“You’ll be glad to know that an officer is going to be on duty outside your door tonight and the handsome Darren Boyd takes over from him tomorrow.”
After he had left, Agatha luxuriated in a long hot bath. Then, putting on a dressing-gown, she went back downstairs and put a packet of spaghetti bolognaise into the microwave for her dinner. When she had finished eating, she rose and let the cats out into the garden for a little. Then she let them in again and locked up and went back to bed.
But sleep was a long time coming. Somewhere out there in the world was Felicity Felliet and Agatha was sure she would be hell-bent on revenge.
Charles called early next morning with Gustav to return her car and said he would be back that evening and that there must be something restorative in police coffee, for his cold had completely disappeared.
Agatha spent the day getting a complete facial and followed tt up by getting her hair tinted brown.
Then she returned to find Charles parked outside, waiting for her. Charles was always amazed that Agatha’s foul diet of microwaved meals left her with thick glossy hair and perfect skin.
“Forgot my key. I see handsome Boyd’s outside, sitting at a tittle table of goodies.”
“The village women spoil him. What now?”
