Agatha Raisin
Book 18 in the
2007
Agatha Raisin is bored. Her detective agency in the Cotswolds is thriving, but she'll scream if she has to deal with another missing cat or dog. Only two things seem to offer potential excitement: the upcoming Christmas festivities and her ex, James Lacey. This year she is sure that if she invites James to a really splendid, old-fashioned Christmas dinner, their love will rekindle like a warm Yule log.
When a wealthy widow hires Agatha because she's convinced a member of her family is trying to kill her, Agatha is intrigued--especially when the widow drops dead after high tea at the manor house. Who in this rather sterile house, complete with fake family portraits, could have hated the old lady enough to poison her? Agatha sets out to find the murderer, all the while managing a pretty, teenage trainee who makes her feel old and planning for a picture-perfect Christmas, with James, all the trimmings, and perhaps even snow.
Chapter One
Agatha Raisin was bored.
Her detective agency in the Cotswolds was thriving, but the cases were all small, niggling and unexciting, and yet took a great deal of time to solve. She sometimes felt if she had to deal with another missing cat or dog, she would scream.
Dreams and fantasies, that cushion she usually had against the realities of life, had, to her astonished mind, disappeared entirely. She had dreamed so long about her neighbour and exhusband, James Lacey, that she would not accept the fact that she did not love him any more. She thought of him angrily as some sort of drug that had ceased to work.
So although it was only early October, she tried to fill her mind with thoughts of Christmas. Unlike quite a number of people, Agatha had not given up on Christmas. To have the perfect Christmas had been a childhood dream whilst surviving a rough upbringing in a Birmingham slum. Holly berries glistened, snow fell gently outside, and inside, all was Dickensian jollity. And in her dreams, James Lacey kissed her under the mistletoe, and, like a middle-aged Sleeping Beauty, she would awake to passion once more.
Her friend, the vicar's wife, Mrs Bloxby, had once pointed out that Christmas was to celebrate the birth of Christ, but Agatha's mind shied away from that. To her, Christmas was more Hollywood than church.
Christmas advertisements were already appearing on television, and supermarket aisles were laden with Christmas crackers, mince pies and puddings.
But something happened one crisp morning early in the month to take her mind off Christmas.
She was sitting in her office in Mircester, going through the files with her secretary, Mrs Freedman, wondering whether to handle another dreary job herself or to turn it over to one of her two detectives, Phil Marshall and Patrick Mulligan. Her erstwhile detective, young Harry Beam, was now studying at Cambridge, and Agatha missed his hard-working energy.
'I nearly forgot,' said Mrs Freedman, 'but this letter arrived for you. It's marked 'personal', so I didn't open it.'
Agatha picked it up. The handwriting on the envelope was spidery and there was no return address. She opened it. She read: Dear Mrs Raisin,
I have learned of your prowess as a detective through the local newspapers and I wonder if you might find time to call on me. I think a member of my family is trying to kill me. Isn't the weather warm for October?
Yours sincerely, Phyllis Tamworthy
The paper was expensive. The address, in raised italic script at the top, gave the address of The Manor House, Lower Tapor, Gloucestershire.
'Nuts,' said Agatha. 'Barking mad. How are our profits?'
'Good,' said Mrs Freeman. 'It is amazing how grateful people are to get one of their pets back.'
'I miss Harry,' sighed Agatha. 'Phil and Patrick don't mind the divorces, but they do hate searching for animals. They think it's all beneath them, and I think it's beneath me.'
'Why don't you employ a young person to cope with the missing animals? A girl, perhaps. Girls are very keen on animals.'
'That's a very good idea. Put an ad in the local paper and we'll see if we can get anyone. Say we want a trainee.'
A week later, Agatha, after a long day of interviews, felt she would never, ever find someone suitable. It seemed as if all the dimmest girls in Mircester fancied themselves as detectives. Some had come dressed in black leather and stilettoheeled boots, thinking that a Charlie's Angel image would be appropriate. Unfortunately, with the exception of one anorexic, the rest were overweight with great bosoms and buttocks. Weight would not have mattered, however, if any of them had shown the least spark of intelligence.
Agatha was about to pack up for the day when the door to her office opened and a young girl entered. She had blonde hair that looked natural and pale-blue eyes fringed with thick fair lashes in a neat-featured face. She was conservatively dressed in a tailored suit, white blouse and lowheeled shoes.
'Yes?' asked Agatha.
'My name is Toni Gilmour. I believe you are looking for a trainee detective.'
'Applicants are supposed to apply in writing.'
'I know. But you see, I've just made up my mind to try for the job.'
Actually, Toni had been lurking in the street outside for a good part of the day, studying the girls who came out after their interviews, examining their faces and listening to what they said. She gathered that no one had got the job. She deliberately calculated that if she turned up last, then a desperate Mrs Raisin might take her on.
But Agatha was anxious to get home to her cats and relax for the weekend.
'Go away and write your application,' she said. 'Send in copies of your school certificates plus a short description of why you think you might be suited for the job.'
Agatha half-rose from her seat behind her desk, but sat down again as Toni said, 'I have brought my school certificates with me. I am well educated. I work hard. People like me. I feel that is important in getting facts.'
Agatha scowled at her. Agatha's way of getting facts was usually by either lying or emotional blackmail or outright bullying.
'It's not glamorous,' said Agatha. 'Your job will be to try to find missing dogs and cats. It's tedious work and you will often find that the animal has been killed on the road or has probably been stolen. When did you leave school?'
'Last June. I'm seventeen.'
'Are you employed at the moment?'
'Yes, I work at the pharmacy counter at Shalbey's.' Shalbey's was one of the local supermarkets. 'I work the late shift.'
