spent on the fete. It was suddenly considered fashionable by all sorts of people to hire a private detective. Women wanted to find out if their partners or husbands were cheating on them and were prepared to pay Agatha fifteen hundred pounds each for her agency’s skills. Agatha could remember a time when only the rich took foreign holidays in winter. Now loads of ordinary odds and sods crammed the airport departure lounges. Once, a visit to the beautician was for people with money. Now it was a growth industry. Hiring a private detective seemed to be the latest thing to do.
Occasionally, she worried about Toni. The girl seemed to have lost a lot of her sparkle, although her work was as efficient as ever.
One Friday evening when she found herself alone with Toni in the office, Agatha said, “Let’s go for dinner.”
“All right,” said Toni. “Where?”
“There’s a new fish restaurant in Mircester, the other side of the square. It’s supposed to be good.”
Once settled over plates of Dover sole and a carafe of house white, Agatha said, “Out with it.”
“With what?”
“There’s nothing up with your work, Toni, but you’ve been looking depressed and that’s not like you. Is it anything to do with Bill?”
No, it’s …”
“Are you pregnant?”
“Absolutely not!”
“So what’s up?”
“It’s silly.”
“I can be the queen of silliness where men are concerned,” said Agatha with a rare burst of honesty.
“It’s Harry Beam.”
“My Harry Beam? What happened? I saw you both in Comfrey Magna and have been meaning to ask you about that.”
Toni told her about meeting Harry in Mircester and about their trip to Comfrey Magna, ending with “He asked me out for dinner, but I said I had a date.”
“And you didn’t?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“You know my background, Agatha. Harry’s posh. I felt intimidated.”
“Don’t be. Nothing to be ashamed of. Your mother’s sobered up a treat. You haven’t anyone else in your family to worry about.”
“It’s just … I feel caught between two worlds. All my friends are from working-class backgrounds.”
“I’ll bet your mind raced on to the wedding and to meeting his parents.”
Toni gave a reluctant smile. “Something like that.”
“I wouldn’t worry about the English class system,” said Agatha, pouring more wine into their glasses. “People do go on about it, but it’s not as bad as France or Spain, say. These days, anyone with a job is now middle class. You’ll come across pockets of snobbery in the Gloucestershire middle classes, but those people are not worth bothering about. I had a lousy drunken family background just like you. Harry’s the last person to worry about where you come from. When the university holidays start, I’ll ask him to dinner with a few other people and you can take it from there. I feel pretty insecure socially at times, but I just charge along regardless. So don’t worry. Now, on to another subject. What do you make of Jimmy Wilson?”
“I don’t like him,” said Toni. “He leers at me and makes my skin crawl. I wonder why he left the police force without waiting for retirement?”
“There’s a point. I sometimes wonder if he really did have cancer. I’ll get Patrick to ask around. Now, cheer up!”
They drank a lot more wine and followed it up with large brandies. Agatha decided she had better leave her car and take a taxi home.
When the cab turned into Lilac Lane where her cottage was, she was dismayed to see that a police car and a van from the security firm, which had installed her burglar alarm, were parked outside.
A policeman came up to meet her as she got out of the taxi and paid off the driver. “What’s happened?” she asked.
“Are you Mrs. Agatha Raisin?”
“Yes, yes. What’s going on?”
“Someone tried to break into your house by the kitchen door. The alarm went off. Whoever it was seems to have been frightened by the alarm and ran away without going into the house, but you had better check and see if anything is missing.”
Agatha unlocked the front door and went in. “We turned off the alarm,” said a security man behind her. “We’ll reset it, but you’ll need some repairs to your kitchen door.”
Alerted by the police activity, villagers began to head towards Agatha’s cottage. The local carpenter said he would go back and fetch his tools and fix the door. Agatha turned down various offers of cups of tea.
Bill Wong drove up. “Do you think this was an ordinary burglar, Agatha, or have you been stirring something up in one of your cases?”
