“Seemed to be. Then she got me looking at her. I turned away and when I turned back, she’d gone.”
Roy appeared in the kitchen wrapped in a Chinese silk dressing gown. “What’s going on?”
Agatha told him and then said, “We’ve got to find out her name before she was married. It’s probably in the church register. Then we’ll need to find out what sort of background she came from.”
“The church is open during the day,” said Toni, “but we’ll need to slip in after the morning service.”
“The book’ll be in the vestry,” said Roy. “I wonder if they keep it locked.”
At that moment, Charles wandered in, having let himself into Agatha’s cottage with his own set of keys. Agatha looked at his concerned face and said, “No, I am not dead yet. I have more important things to think about.”
She told him about Trixie, ending with, “I’d better get Patrick to go. No one knows him.”
“There’s something else I just remembered,” said Toni. “Trixie had these tattoos down her arms.”
“You’re sure?” Agatha frowned. She had never seen Trixie’s arms uncovered. Even the leotard that Trixie had been wearing the first day Agatha had met her had been long-sleeved.
“Did you see what they were like?” asked Roy.
“Yes,” said Toni. “Midlands TV was there and they had this white light panning out over the audience. The tattoos were blue, all blue, like ink.”
“By all that’s holy,” breathed Agatha. “Prison tattoos.”
Chapter Ten
THE PROBLEM WITH THAT IS,” said Toni, “a lot of young people these days have fake prison tattoos.”
“Yes, but she’s not young,” said Agatha. “We must find out what her maiden name was. I’ll phone Patrick.”
She retreated to the living room. “Aggie’s always been determined to make Trixie the villain,” said Charles. “I hope she doesn’t get too carried away.”
Agatha came back saying, “Patrick’s going over to the church tomorrow. Now I suggest we all go to bed. Charles, if you’re staying, you’ll need to sleep on the couch.”
“It’s all right. I’m going home. I’ll drop by tomorrow to see if there’s any news.”
Agatha slept uneasily, waking several times during the night, worrying about George. She felt he would never forgive her and dreaded that he might try to attack her again. She also worried about Monday morning in the office, when she would need to tell her small staff about the invitation to James’s engagement party. Agatha hated to be pitied. She wanted to be feared, admired or loved, but she did not want to be the object of anyone’s pity.
Roy was startled at breakfast the following morning when Agatha announced that they were going to church.
“Why?” he wailed. “I don’t do church.”
“I want to talk to Mrs. Bloxby.”
“We could go to the vicarage afterwards.”
“I feel guilty about always dropping in on her. Come on. It’ll do our souls good.”
“I didn’t know you had a soul, sweetie.”
Agatha was impatient, her mind racing from one thing that needed doing to another. She found the service interminable. She only relaxed during the long sermon, the vicar’s words drifting in and out of her brain until she fell asleep and was finally awakened by a sharp nudge in her ribs from Roy’s elbow and his voice hissing in her ear, “You’re snoring.”
After the final hymn and the blessing, they filed out of church. Agatha shook hands with the vicar and said, “Fine sermon. Very moving.”
Alf Bloxby replied drily, “But not enough to keep you awake.”
“You must be mistaken. I heard every word,” lied Agatha. She spotted Mrs. Bloxby talking to some of the parishioners and hurried over to her.
“A word in private,” said Agatha, driving off the three women who had been talking to Mrs. Bloxby with a steely glare.
“I hope this is important,” said Mrs. Bloxby. “You interrupted me.”
“Very important. Do you know anything about Trixie Chance?”
“Until her husband approached me about you publicizing the fete, I did not know anything at all about either Mr. Chance or his wife.”
“But you could find out. The clergy gossip to each other.”
“Mrs. Raisin, I will only gossip if it is to a good end. What is your motive?”
Agatha told her about the concert and the tattoos. Mrs. Bloxby frowned. “It is all very thin evidence of wrongdoing, but I will see what I can find out.”
“Thanks!” Agatha charged off, sweeping Roy with her. “We’d better get back home. Patrick should be calling.”
When she got back to her cottage, Agatha checked her answering service. She listened in dismay. Patrick had left a message to say there was no record of the marriage.
