arrived.
“Now, where did I put them?” Roy stifled a yawn as Archie jerked open drawers on his desk. Agatha stared numbly at a picture over the fireplace. Then, as Archie jerked open another drawer, Agatha saw reflected in the glass of the picture a flash of brilliance. Archie slammed a door of the desk shut violently, muttering, “Not that drawer.”
“Maybe you keep them in the bedside table,” said Agatha. “I often keep mementos there.”
“I’ll go and look. It’s my memory these days. I can remember things a long time ago but I can hardly remember what happened yesterday.”
When he had left the room, Agatha moved quickly and quietly to that desk. He had been bending over. Must be one of the bottom drawers. She opened the one on the left. Nothing but papers. She opened the one on the right and stifled a gasp as she looked down at a blaze of jewels—necklaces, bracelets and watches; all glittering like the treasure trove in an illustration to a child’s detective story. She heard Archie’s slow step on the stairs, shut the drawer quietly and regained her seat just in time.
“I can’t figure it out,” said Archie, coming into the room. “Blessed if I can remember where I put them. What about another drink?”
“Nothing for us,” said Agatha. “We really must be going. I only called to see if you were all right.”
She and Roy stood up. “Can’t I persuade you to stay?” he pleaded, loneliness shining in his old eyes.
“No, honestly. Thanks for the drink. Come along, Roy.”
Outside, Agatha said urgently, “I’ve got to phone Barret at Snoth.”
“Who’s he?”
“The detective inspector who was in charge of the case.”
“Why?”
Agatha turned and then waved. “He’s watching us from the window. Wait until we get into the car.”
“You’ve got a ticket,” said Roy, removing it from under the wiper. “This is a residents’ parking area.”
“I’ll pay it gladly. Get in.”
Once they were in the car, Agatha drove off. “I want to phone when we’re out of sight Roy, in that bottom drawer were piles of jewels. Don’t you see? Geraldine probably gave them to him for safekeeping, keeping back a few bits and pieces for herself under the mattress. So there’s a prearrangement to meet her on the beach and hand over the jewels. But he strangles her instead. Let’s stop in the car park of this pub and I’ll phone Barret.”
James Lacey had seen Agatha drive off with Roy. He wondered what she was up to. He still could not quite believe that the formerly adoring Agatha was avoiding him so completely. He had been reluctant to go off on holiday on his own and so had returned to Carsely. Immediately after his return, every time his doorbell rang he answered it, sure he would find Agatha on his doorstep. But it was always either the postman with a parcel or one of the village women with a cake for him.
He went along to the village stores and saw Mrs. Bloxby just leaving. He hailed her.
“What’s Agatha up to these days?” he asked.
“My dear Mr. Lacey, why don’t you ask her yourself? She lives right next door to you.”
James burst out, “She’s not talking to me!”
“Then perhaps you should talk to her,” said Mrs. Bloxby mildly. “Now, if you will excuse me …”
And I hope you never do climb down off your high horse and speak to her, thought Mrs. Bloxby. Mrs. Raisin has suffered enough.
Agatha had made her phone call. How long would it get Barret to get a search warrant, and on a Saturday, too?
Roy and Agatha occasionally walked back to the square and watched Archie’s house from a safe distance.
The sky was darkening and they had not eaten anything. Roy was starting to complain loudly.
Agatha capitulated. They went back to the pub for beer and sandwiches, but then Agatha insisted they go back to the square one more time.
This time, there were a police car and an unmarked car outside Archie’s house. They watched and waited.
Suddenly the door opened and Archie was led out and put into the police car. Barret and Wilkins followed, got into the unmarked car and drove off.
“Good, now back to Carsely,” said Roy.
“No,” said Agatha. “We’re going to Snoth.”
“Correction, sweetie.
“Roy, you may as well come with me. It’ll take you ages to get to Carsely. Train to Victoria, tube to Paddington, train to Moreton-in-Marsh and then taxi to Carsely.”
“Oh, all right,” said Roy sulkily. “But don’t be all night over it.”
A police car stopped them on the road out of Brighton. “You are to follow us to Snoth police station,” she was instructed.
“I was going there anyway,” said Agatha cheerfully.
At the police station Agatha was told to wait. They wanted a statement from her.
So she and Roy waited and waited while the muffled sound of the rising tide reached their ears.
“What’s happening about the sea wall?” Agatha asked the desk sergeant.
“They’re building a new high one, and about time, too. The hotel’s finished. Pity, that. I remember it as a boy. Grand place, it was.”
“Mrs. Raisin?” A policewoman appeared. “Will you and your companion follow me?”
Agatha and Roy were buzzed through and followed the policewoman to an interview room.
Barret and Wilkins were there. A feeling of familiar fatigue assailed Agatha as the tape was switched on and the questioning began.
At one point Barret asked, “How could you possibly believe that there were the jewels in that drawer because of a single flash of light you saw reflected in the glass of a painting?”
“The sun was shining brightly into the room,” said Agatha, “and that reflected glitter got me thinking it might be the missing jewels.” She waved one arm expansively. “The way I see it is that Swale was given the jewels by Geraldine for safekeeping. But he doesn’t want to give them back. So he lures her onto the beach. Probably arranged it beforehand. That is one good solid reason why she would leave her hotel room in the middle of the night.”
Said Barret, “Mr. Swale insists that Mrs. Jankers did give him the jewels to look after. He did not know anything about the theft. He meant to deliver them to her solicitor, but forgot about them.”
“You can’t forget about a drawerful of gems!”
“Nonetheless, he is sticking to his story. We will probably charge him with harbouring stolen property, although even that’s doubtful because he’s sticking to his story that he did not know the stuff had been stolen, but apart from that we have no evidence whatsoever that he committed the murder. You should really leave detecting to the police.”
“Oh really? Would you have found the jewels?”
“Sooner or later,” said Barret.
“That’s a load of rubbish. Are the jewels from that robbery?”
“Swale tried to say at first that they were from an aunt of his, but we had the record of the stolen stuff faxed over and, yes, they’re from the robbery. When we asked him why he had invented the aunt, he said Geraldine had sworn him to secrecy and he was honouring her memory.”
“And you believe that?” raged Agatha.
“Interview ended,” said Barret, switching off the tape. “You are free to go, Mrs. Raisin. Just stay out of it.”
“And that’s all the thanks I get!” complained Agatha on the road home.
Roy stifled a yawn. “So you keep saying over and over again. Let it go.”
Agatha drove on for several miles. Then she said, “Of course I could be wrong. Swale might not be the murderer. I would like to go and see Cyril Hammond.”
“If you want me to go with you to Lewisham tomorrow, the answer’s still no.”
