“I’ve got a pair of nail scissors in my handbag.”
“If there’s nothing sinister in there, we’re going to have to try to stitch it up again so that it looks the same,” said Agatha.
Toni took the scissors out of her handbag and cut the threads. “There’s something here,” she said. She grabbed hold of the end of something and pulled. Agatha stared. She found herself looking at a familiar bank bag.
“We can just take it,” said Toni eagerly, “and give it back to the church. Fire Jimmy and there’ll be no scandal.”
“Can’t,” said Agatha. “You forget Arnold was murdered. I’ll call the police. I’ll say I had more instructions for Jimmy. He didn’t answer his phone. We came up here and found the door open. No Jimmy. I sat in that armchair and I thought, there’s something in this cushion, and blah, blah, blah.”
“Sounds thin.”
“Got any better ideas?” Agatha took out her phone and called police headquarters in Mircester.
She managed to get hold of Bill Wong and spoke rapidly. When she had finished, Toni said nervously, “Do you think they’ll search us?”
“Probably not. Why?”
“You’ve got the keys and we’ve both got latex gloves.”
“I’ll attach the keys to my own key ring and we’re supposed to carry latex gloves. We’re detectives.”
“This is Evesham. Won’t it be Worcester police?”
“It’s Gloucester’s case. I think they’ll come straight here and let Worcester know afterwards. I feel a bit shaky now. Poor Mrs. Freedman. She’s going to be shattered by this bit of news.”
“I’ve thought of something!” exclaimed Toni.
“What?”
“They’ll automatically search the flat for fingerprints.”
“We were wearing gloves.”
“Don’t you see? That’s it. Why were you wearing gloves?”
“Let me think. I know. We found the money right off because I sat down for a rest. We thought we may as well look round while we were waiting.”
“Won’t work. They’ll know that we’ll know a crime scene shouldn’t be touched.”
“We’ll tell them we wanted to find out where Jimmy was staying in Brighton, if he had left a note somewhere.”
“And they’ll say, ‘Why didn’t you phone him?’”
“Couldn’t get an answer.”
“What if they check your phone records?”
“Snakes and bastards,” howled Agatha. “I’m not the villain here.”
“Mrs. Raisin?” Agatha swung round. Wilkes and Collins were standing in the doorway. Just behind them stood Bill Wong.
“Where is the money?” asked Wilkes.
Agatha pointed to the armchair cushion. “It’s in there.”
“How did you find it? This is Jimmy Wilson’s flat, isn’t it? And he works for you.”
Agatha told her tale of wanting to get in touch with Jimmy, who was in Brighton. She had sat down in the armchair and had felt all the paper inside it and decided to have a look. “So you don’t know where he’s staying?”
“I couldn’t get him on the phone,” said Agatha. “Knowing Jimmy, if he thinks he’s richer than he was, he’ll probably be staying somewhere grand.”
Wilkes spoke rapidly into his phone, ordering someone at headquarters to contact the Brighton police and arrest Jimmy Wilson.
“Why did you employ such a person?”
“He’s an ex-detective. He was one of your lot.”
“I want you and Miss Gilmour to go directly to police headquarters to be interviewed. Detective Sergeant Wong will go with you.”
At police headquarters, Agatha and Toni were split up. Agatha was interviewed by the terrible Collins and another detective called Finch.
The questioning was rapid-fire and bullying. Collins stopped just short of implying that Agatha had been in on the theft of the money and the murder of Arnold.
Grimly, Agatha stuck to her story, reminding Collins time after time that because Jimmy was a retired detective, she had no reason to suspect him.
At last, she was free to go but was warned that she had to be ready for further questioning. She found Toni waiting for her.
“Let’s go for a drink,” said Agatha. “I wonder if they’ve caught Jimmy.”
Jimmy strolled into the foyer of the Grand Hotel in Brighton. “One of your best rooms,” he said to the clerk.
