“It seems Mrs. Fanshawe got the key from Betty saying she had some stuff of Agatha’s to leave in her room. After Mrs. Fanshawe had gone upstairs, a man in worker’s overalls and carrying a tool bag came in and said he was to repair part of the stair carpet She told him to go ahead. After a short time he came back down and walked out of the hotel.”
“It wasn’t Brian McNally in person,” said Agatha shakily, “because he was in Carsely putting the wind up Mrs. Bloxby by saying he wanted to buy my cottage. I know it must have been him from her description.”
“There’s something else,” said Patrick. “My contact told me that Regan Enterprises is no more. Their offices in Dublin burned down last night and the directors have disappeared.”
“So I was right,” said Agatha. “It must have been dodgy money.”
“I’m going to get us all some drinks,” said James.
“I’ll come with you,” said Charles. “Why don’t we just take a bottle of brandy and some glasses?”
They had just come back from the bar with a bottle and glasses when Superintendent Willerby walked into the bar with Wilkins and Barret and a policewoman.
“We’ll take you one by one,” said the superintendent. “Starting with you, Mrs. Raisin. Where were you when Mrs. Fanshawe was in your room? That would be, according to the receptionist, at three p.m.”
“I was with James, Mr. Lacey, driving to Brighton when I got a call from Patrick Mulligan telling me what happened.”
“What was she doing in your room? She told the receptionist that you had asked her to leave some things in your room.”
“I never told her any such thing.” Agatha’s beady eyes turned on Charles. “I think Sir Charles Fraith might have an answer to your questions.”
“Sir Charles?”
Charles shifted awkwardly in his chair. Despite her shock and distress, Agatha could not help feeling pleased to see the usually unflappable Charles looking uneasy.
“It was like this,” he said. “Deborah, Mrs. Fanshawe, was pursuing me. She was almost on the point, I felt, of proposing marriage. I panicked and told her I was promised to Aggie.”
“Meaning Mrs. Raisin.”
“Yes.”
“Go on.”
“She was a very pushy woman and I feel she was waiting for Agatha to have it out with her.”
“The light in that room is very dim. She was sitting facing the sea,” said Willerby. “I am afraid we have to assume that the murderer mistook her for Mrs. Raisin.”
Patrick said, “Do you think Brian McNally sent a hit man after Agatha? He wouldn’t know exactly what Agatha looked like.”
“It’s a possibility. Now I will take each of you in turn…”
“Thank goodness that’s over,” said Agatha after what seemed like hours of questioning.
“There’s one bad thing about it,” said James. “We can’t leave.”
Charles said, “Do you mean you pair were thinking of leaving? That’s not like you, Aggie.”
“Oh, shut up!” said James furiously. “You should be worried about yourself. Willerby doesn’t quite buy the hit-man suggestion, which leaves you number-one suspect.”
“Sorry to disappoint you. They’ve searched my room and haven’t found any weapon.”
“It’s all your fault,” said Agatha bitterly. “What were you doing chasing after Deborah anyway?”
“She was, at first glance, a very attractive woman.”
They were still sitting in the bar. Agatha looked across the room in surprise as Harry walked in.
“What are you doing here?” asked Agatha.
“I thought you could do with some more protection,” said Harry, joining them. “What’s going on? The hotel is crawling with police. Some ferocious-looking woman even demanded a DNA sample. I nearly gagged when she shoved that stick in my mouth. Then I had to produce identification and all that.”
Agatha told him about Deborah’s murder. Harry listened carefully and then said, “You should change your room again.”
“The police have done that for me,” said Agatha. “Their forensic people are working on my old room. Patrick, I keep forgetting to ask you. Did you find out if the police discovered anything in that flask of coffee?”
“Nothing in it, or the milk, sugar or biscuits. She may have had orders to kill you and took along that tray to look like room service. She says she was supposed to wait for you and give you a warning, but she chickened out.”
“I’m getting out of this place as soon as I can,” said Charles. “I know the chief constable. I mean, if I leave my address, it should be enough.”
James’s blue eyes glinted. “You mean you’re not going to stay around to help us guard Agatha?”
“Lots of you here,” said Charles callously. “I’m starving. Hey, wait a bit! You know who was missing when we were all in the bar? Fred Jankers.”
“I asked about that,” said Patrick. “He’d gone back to Lewisham to bury Wayne and Chelsea. He’s due back tomorrow.”
“I wonder why on earth he’s coming back here,” said Agatha. “Anyway, Cyril Hammond is my number-one suspect. He inherits Geraldine’s money.”
“Why is he still here?” asked Harry.
“He says he wants to wait until the murderer of his precious Geraldine is found.”
“Hard to believe,” said James.
Agatha looked at him. “He was devoted to Geraldine. Isn’t it odd? I mean, she was a frumpy loud-mouthed woman and yet she could get men devoted to her.”
“Sounds like you, Aggie,” said Charles cheerfully. “I’m off to get something to eat.”
“You’re forgetting something,” said Agatha. “Police cars will be arriving shortly to take us to Lewes to make our official statements.”
“Then I’d better eat fast,” said Charles. “I’ll go to the kitchen and see if they have any sandwiches.”
“Why don’t you bring in a large plate of them,” shouted Agatha to his retreating back.
Just when they began to think he had forgotten about them, Charles appeared, following a waitress who was bearing a huge plate of sandwiches.
“I should have asked for coffee,” said Charles, but I don’t think we’ve got time now.”
“I’m a bit tiddly,” mourned Agatha.
James arranged sandwiches for her on a plate. “Here, eat some of these. Good blotting paper.”
Agatha did her best, but each mouthful seemed to stick in her throat.
At last they were summoned to the cars. “You don’t need to go,” said Agatha to Harry. “Could you get to Lewisham and see what you can find out about Fred Jankers’s businesses?”
“Will do,” said Harry.
They all, with the exception of Harry, exited the hotel and fought their way to the police cars through the shouts of the press and camera flashes.
The whole business of questioning took longer than anyone could have expected. It went on for the rest of the day and then they were put up in a hotel for the night and the grilling resumed the next day.
Agatha found that this time she was being asked questions by the Special Branch. Why had she assumed that the money might be laundered? On and on it went, until she seemed to hear her tired voice echoing in her brain.
And then, all at once, they were free to go. The policeman who was driving Agatha, James and Charles said as they got out of the car, “There’s a storm warning. Going to hit here the day after tomorrow.”
They all ate a later meal in the dining room, not talking much, not one of them feeling they wanted to talk much any more.
Agatha had drunk a lot of wine at dinner and she staggered as James escorted her to her hotel room door.
“Alcohol isn’t the solution, Agatha,” said James.
“Oh, pish off,” said Agatha wearily.
She went into her room, locked the door behind her and put a chair under thedoor handle. She sat down on
