Agatha Raisin and a Spoonful of Poison

Agatha parked in front of the church. As they walked across the graveyard, she remembered the first time she had seen George. What a terrible mistake it had been to fall for good looks. “I’m sorry I wasn’t much help to you in finding out about Mrs. Chance’s background,” said Mrs. Bloxby, “but I did try.”

“Doesn’t matter now,” said Agatha. “I wonder if George is still around.”

“No. That bit of news I did hear. He married Miss Corrie and they have gone to Cornwall on their honeymoon.”

“Good luck to her.” Agatha rang the bell.

To her surprise, the door was answered by Phyllis Tolling. “Oh, it’s you,” she said. “What do you want?”

“We have called to see Mr. Chance.”

“It’s hardly a good time. The poor man is still in shock.”

Then Agatha heard Arthur’s voice raised in song.

“When he thinks that he is past love,

That is when he meets his last love,

And he loves her like he never loved before.”

A smile crossed Phyllis’s face. “Come in,” she said.

Arthur was in the living room, surrounded by packing cases. “Hullo!” he hailed them. “Just packing away Trixie’s things. I don’t think she’ll be needing them for a long time. Tea?”

“That would be nice,” said Mrs. Bloxby.

“I’ll get it, darling,” said Phyllis.

“Oh, you are good.” Arthur blew her a kiss.

Agatha decided that Arthur did not need any consoling words, so instead she asked, “I often wondered how you met Trixie.”

“It was just after my second wife died,” said the vicar.

Mrs. Bloxby looked at him nervously. “What did your wives die of?”

Arthur roared with laughter. “Frightened I bumped them off? No, Jane, the first had cancer and Cressida, the second, had a stroke, poor thing. I was holidaying in Brighton and I met Trixie by chance in the hotel lounge. She told me she was just divorced and began to cry. One thing led to another and we got married. Oh, tea. Splendid, splendid.”

“I’ll be through in the bedroom,” said Phyllis, putting down the tray. “I’ll go on packing up the clothes.”

“Good girl. What would I do without you?”

While they drank their tea, Mrs. Bloxby gently turned the conversation to general parish matters until they got up to leave.

“What did you think of that?” asked Agatha eagerly as they drove off.

“I think that Mr. Chance is a very lustful man.”

“A what?”

“Yes, one cannot always go by appearances.”

After Agatha had dropped Mrs. Bloxby off at the vicarage and had gone to her cottage, she found she was plagued with uneasiness.

She began to dread the thought of announcing to the others that Toni was going to start her own agency. They would think she was a jealous, petty woman.

“I think I am,” said Agatha gloomily to her cats. She phoned Toni. “Perhaps this new agency business is not such a good idea,” said Agatha. “Perhaps you should work for me for a few more years and—”

“But it’s a brilliant idea,” cried Toni. “We’ll be ready to start in several weeks.”

“What about Harry? Are you sure he doesn’t have an ulterior motive?”

“Oh, no. He’s as excited as I am. I don’t know how to thank you. If it’s as successful as I hope it will be, I can pay you back all the money you spent on me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” said Agatha. “Good luck.”

She rang off and glared balefully at her cats. “Just thank your stars I’m not a cat-kicking person.”

There was a ring at the doorbell. Agatha rushed to answer it and found Bill Wong on the doorstep.

“Come in,” she cried. “I’ve got some coffee ready.”

“I had a phone call from Toni,” said Bill and Agatha’s heart sank. “She told me all about this new-agency idea, said it was your idea. Why did you want to get rid of your best detective?”

“I felt I was holding her back,” Agatha lied.

“You felt she was stealing your thunder,” said Bill.

“That’s not the reason!”

“Let’s talk about something else. Zak is out on bail.”

“So I heard.”

“Well, he promised to testify against Trixie and bail was part of the deal. Then she confessed, but it was too