“No, the offer would be this. You would get two per cent of the net profits.”

“Now, that’s not good. I would only be interested in two per cent of the gross. How much would you want me to invest?”

George took a deep breath. He leaned across the table and took Agatha’s hand in his. The tournedos arrived. George scowled. “This came too quickly,” he said. “I don’t like it when it comes too quickly. It looks as if it’s been precooked and just waiting in the kitchen.”

“Looks great to me,” said Agatha cheerfully. “Why don’t we eat it first and discuss businesses afterwards? And I can’t eat while you’re holding my hand.”

“Oh, right.”

George proceeded to eat and drink quickly. Between bites, Agatha talked about the weather and the disastrous results of the flooding. When she had finished eating and had embarked on yet another flooding story, George interrupted her by asking eagerly, “So, you would be interested?”

“In what?”

“In investing in this salon?”

“Would you care for dessert?” asked the waiter.

“Go away and give us a break,” snapped George. He turned his gaze back on Agatha. “Well?”

“How much?” asked Agatha.

“Oh, nothing much. Seventy-five thousand pounds.”

“That is actually a lot of money.”

“Come on, Agatha. It’s a great chance for you to make money.” Again he took her hand. “I can see a future for us,” he breathed.

“Together?”

“Why not?”

“And what would Gilda have to say about us being together?”

“Agatha, Agatha, my darling. Poor old Gilda is just a business associate.”

Agatha withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair. “Gilda is your fiancee, is she not?”

His mouth fell open.

“You’ve a bit of pureed spinach on your teeth,” commented Agatha. “It matches your eyes.”

He scrubbed his front teeth furiously with his napkin. “How did you know Gilda was my fiancee?”

“I’m a detective. I detect. And you interest me an awful lot. I think you’re in debt and the fair Gilda won’t marry you until you produce the goods. Did you get Sybilla to push your wife downstairs?”

Agatha had read in books of people’s faces going black with fury. Now she knew what the writers meant.

“No, I did not murder my wife,” hissed George. “You are a malicious old trout.”

“Now we’ve settled that,” said Agatha. “What about pudding?”

“Screw the pudding and you!”

George thrust his chair back, stood up and stormed out of the restaurant.

I might have done something dangerous, thought Agatha and called for the bill.

_____________

When she entered her cottage, carrying her stiletto shoes, she found Charles in the living room, sitting with her cats and watching television.

“Hot date?” asked Charles lazily. “Those eyelashes are a bit much.”

“I’ve been out for dinner with George Selby. Let me tell you what’s been going on.”

Charles switched off the television and listened carefully. When Agatha had finished, Charles said, “How could you do such a stupid thing? If the man really is a murderer, he’ll come after you.”

“It’s a risk I have to take,” said Agatha. “Aren’t looks so misleading? I don’t think he’ll come after me. Too obvious.”

“If he charmed Sybilla into bumping off his wife, he may get this Gilda to drop by one night and strangle you.”

“Now I’m at dead slow and stop,” said Agatha, sinking down on the sofa beside him.

“What are all those boxes of photos doing on the floor?”

“I phoned Toni before I went to sleep today and told her to go back to the vicarage and collect them. We didn’t really have time to look at them thoroughly.”

“What are you looking for?”

“Someone in former photos whose face doesn’t fit.”

“Aha! Some sinister face holding a dagger.”

“Something like that.”

“So you don’t think it’s a local?”

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