Agatha Raisin Kissing Christmas Goodbye

'Then I'll have to rely on you to keep me informed,' said Agatha. 'Will you do that?'

'Very well.'

When Alison left, Agatha went to the window and looked down. Bert was waiting on the other side of the road for her. Agatha could see Alison talking rapidly and then Bert smiled, patted her back and gave her a kiss on the cheek.

'I'll find out who murdered that damn woman if it's the last thing I do,' muttered Agatha.

But she was too busy in the following days, filling in for Phil whom she had ordered to take more rest, and for Toni who was not expected back at work until the following week. Charles had disappeared again and so Agatha was glad of Roy Silver's company when that young man arrived for the weekend. She had forgotten what a good listener he was. On Saturday morning at the breakfast table, she told him all about the case from beginning to end and it was over an hour before she had finished.

He had listened carefully and then brightened when she told him about the visit to the retired psychiatrist. 'Ooh! I would like to see him,' said Roy. 'He might find me a fascinating subject.'

'And he might die of boredom.'

'Claws in, Aggie.'

'Don't call me Aggie!'

'So are we sleuthing this weekend?'

'Actually I thought I'd make some plans for my Christmas dinner.'

'Don't talk about Christmas,' complained Roy. 'I hate the whole business. Crowded shops. Sound of Music and Miracle on 34th Street, all running for the umpteenth time. People get so cross and worried and spend too much money and begin to hate their families. Some relatives always disgrace themselves by getting drunk.'

'Roy, my Christmas is going to be one you'll never forget.'

'I haven't quite forgotten the last one. Do you remember when you incinerated the Christmas pudding and lost your eyebrows?'

'I have learned from my mistakes. Alison has begged me to drop the case. I can't go near the manor.'

'That Toni's an awfully pretty girl,' said Roy. 'She looked lovely on television. Wouldn't surprise me if some television people didn't snatch her up.'

'Over my dead body,' said Agatha.

'You've got all these suspects,' said Roy. 'In fact, it's beginning to look like the local phone directory. You've told me all about them and which one could have maybe murdered Phyllis, but you've left one out.'

'Who's that?'

'George Pyson.'

'He's only the factor,' said Agatha. 'He had only been working for her for four years. Why should he, of all people, want to kill her?'

'He runs the estate. He does the books. He could have been creaming off money and Phyllis could have found out and threatened to go to the police.'

'So why was the gardener poisoned?'

'To cover up his first crime.'

'No. The gardener was killed after he put his head round the drawing-room door and told them he knew which one of them had done it. Not one of them had time to doctor that bottle of wine. Now I come to think of it, it may point to someone outside the family who didn't know that none of them liked the wine. Mind you, I don't really want to think of that because it would mean that all of them are at risk. It could have been one of those awful villagers. They're in a time warp. They believe in witchcraft and probably know an awful lot about poisonous plants. I'd like to go back to that village, but I doubt if any one of them would speak to us.

'Then there are those two sisters from the village who helped at lunch. Maybe they did it. But why should they? With Phyllis gone and the family planning to sell, they'd risk losing their cheap rent. I wish I could take another look round Phyllis's bedroom.'

'I'm sure the police turned it over thoroughly.'

'Maybe not. I'll phone Alison and ask if there's any hope that the lot of them could all be out of the place sometime.'

Agatha came back from phoning. 'What luck! I phoned Alison on her mobile and she said they were all at Sir Henry's to get away from the press. She says Jill, the groom, will let us in. This letter's just arrived. The address on the back says it's from that psychiatrist.'

'Do open it,' begged Roy. 'Maybe he'll have solved the murder for us.'

Agatha opened the envelope and began to read. Roy waited impatiently. At last he said, 'Well, come on. What does he say?'

'Load of bollocks.'

'Tell me!'

'The sum total is that he believes Phyllis was a megalomaniac and poisoned herself in order to get revenge on the children she never really wanted to have.'

'Isn't that possible?'

'When the poison began to take effect she looked startled and worried.'

'But she was found clutching that hemlock root, wasn't she?'

'She was wearing a dress with pockets. She might have popped the root in one of the pockets after making up the salads. She might have taken the root out of her pocket before she became totally paralysed to give us a clue. And why did she think she was going to be murdered, and by one of her family?'

'Aggie, the man's an expert. Why don't you just take his word for it?'

'I'm going to investigate further. Wait! I've got to phone Alison again.'

Alison answered, saying in an urgent whisper, 'You've got to stop phoning me. Wait. I'll go into the other room. Now, what is it?'

'The will divided everything equally amongst the four of you?'

'Yes.'

'No mention of the technical college getting all the money?'

'No, but the lawyer said she had told him that she meant to visit him a week after her death to change her will. We all knew that.'

'Talk to you later,' said Agatha and rang off.

She turned to Roy, her eyes gleaming. 'There you are. I'm slipping. I'd forgotten the one most important fact. Phyllis was going to change her will and if she hadn't been murdered, there's a good chance her family might have ended up with very little. Let's get going and hope there are no police up there.'

After opening a few wrong doors, Agatha found Phyllis's room. The mattress and box spring had been removed, no doubt for forensic examination.

'Where do we start?' asked Roy.

'You poke around under the carpet and see if she could have hidden anything under the floorboards. I'll look through the bookshelves. Weird that she liked nothing but children's books.'

Agatha began to take the books out of the shelves, shaking each one. 'Why are you shaking the books?' asked Roy.

'Because there might be a draft of a will or a letter.'

'You've been reading too many detective stories,' said Roy. 'I can't do anything with this carpet. It's nasty fitted haircord and nailed down.'

'Well, just sit there.'

Agatha at last straightened up. She gave a yelp of pain and clutched her hip.

'You should do something about that,' said Roy.

'Shut up and let me think. I've been muddled up with all these suspects. I've a feeling the obvious is staring me in the face. Let me go back to that final, dreadful high tea. Fran made a scene and threw her salad into the fireplace. Wait a minute! Before Charles and I went off to the pub, Charles wanted to look in on Phyllis, but Fran stopped him! Said she was just sleeping.'