Agatha Raisin and the Busy Body

wearily decided to open the investigation again. Tilly Glossop and the mayor say it was a one-night fling after a boozy party at the town hall and that they weren't being blackmailed. The e-mails he seems to have stolen out of people's computers at the office. He used them for power, not money. Seems to be why he kept his job when there were so many complaints against him.'

'Sit down, Patrick. A cold beer?'

'Great. I'm driving but one wouldn't hurt.'

Although retired from the force, Patrick always looked somehow like a policeman, with his neatly cropped brown hair, lugubrious face, well-pressed clothes and shiny black shoes.

'Apart from Tilly Glossop, no one else is connected to Odley Cruesis,' said Patrick. 'Tilly is still in for questioning and has had to surrender her passport.'

Agatha thought guiltily of the evidence she had suppressed.

She handed Patrick a glass of beer and then sat down at the table beside him and lit a cigarette. 'Look at these applications,' she said, sending a haze of cigarette smoke over the table. 'Most of them don't even seem able to write and a lot of them use text messaging language.'

'There's one fallen under the table,' said Patrick, bending down to retrieve it. 'Oh, look at this. Do you think he escaped from a production of Il Pagliacci?'

'Pally who?' demanded Agatha crossly, suspecting a dreaded intellectual reference that would show the gaping gaps in her knowledge of the arts.

'The clown in opera. The one who sings 'On with the Motley.' '

'Let me see.'

Patrick handed her a photograph. It was a head and shoulders picture of a teenager. He had a mop of thick curly black hair, large hooded eyes, a prominent curved beak of a nose and a long mobile mouth. 'Four A-levels,' said Patrick. 'Doesn't wanted to be landed with a university loan and would like to find work right away. Says he's intuitive, hardworking and gets on with people. Eighteen years old.'

'I'll have him in for an interview,' said Agatha. 'Toni needs someone young to cheer her up.'

'What's his name?'

'Simon Black.'

Simon entered Agatha's office at seven o'clock the following evening. He turned out to be quite small, perhaps just about five feet and two inches. He was very slim and slight so that his head looked disproportionately large. His eyes under their hooded lids were very large and black and glittered with a combination of humour and intelligence. Agatha thought that he looked like something that had escaped from Lord of the Rings.

'Tell me about yourself,' said Agatha.

'I think you'll find it's all in my CV.'

'Look, dear boy, if you want this job, try to sell yourself.'

'May I sit down?'

'Do.'

Simon pulled forward a chair and sat facing Agatha. He was dressed in black: black T-shirt, black trousers, socks and shoes. 'I'm clever about people,' said Simon. He had a slight Gloucestershire accent. 'I instinctively know when people are lying. I am above average intelligence and--'

'And you've got a very high opinion of yourself,' snapped Agatha.

'So you find listening to me selling myself offensive?' asked Simon. He sounded as if he genuinely wanted to know.

Agatha gave a reluctant smile. 'I've had a bad day. Do you live with your parents?'

'No, I live by myself. My parents are dead. They died last year in a car crash. I wasn't left much but debts even after the house was sold, so I decided it would be better to go out to work than have the burden of a university loan hanging over me. I've had enough of debts.'

The door of the office opened and Toni came in. 'I left something in my desk,' she said.

Agatha felt a pang as she looked at Toni's sad face. She had a sudden idea. 'Toni, this is Simon Black, who will be starting work with us tomorrow. Simon, Toni Gilmour. Are you busy at the moment, Toni?'

'Well . . . no.'

'Get some money from the petty cash and take Simon for a drink and introduce him to the world of detecting. You can charge for the overtime.'

'All right,' said Toni listlessly.

'Simon, report to this office at nine o' clock tomorrow and our secretary will give you a contract to sign.'

'Thank you ver--' began Simon, but Agatha waved a dismissive hand. 'Off you both go.'

Agatha waited until they had gone down the stairs and out into the street. She rose and crossed to the window. They were walking along, several feet apart, not talking.

Chapter Seven

In The George pub next to police headquarters, Simon ordered a beer and Toni a half of lager.

'Which school did you go to?' asked Toni.

'Mircester Grammar.'

'I could have gone there myself,' said Toni, 'but my mother said she couldn't afford the uniform.'

'A lot of the kids can't. That's why they have a secondhand clothes store in the school.'

'Well, my mum was having a bit of difficulty then,' said Toni. 'Let's talk about the job. What do you want to know?'

'I want to know first of all if Agatha Raisin is a good boss. You look trodden down and miserable.'

'I lost a friend I used to work with.'

'That girl, Sharon, who was murdered?'

Toni nodded.

'Is the job that dangerous?'

'No. Not often. It's usually routine stuff--missing pets and children, unfaithful wives and husbands. Sharon got into bad company. Bikers.'

'Have you been to grief or bereavement counselling?'

'Nothing like that. I wasn't family. She was just a friend and a friend I was well and truly fed up with just before she died.'

'Have you been to Pyrt Park?'

Toni looked at him in surprise. 'No, why?'

'They've got a truly evil roller coaster. Drink up. That's where we're going.'

'Why on earth . . . ?'

'You'll see.'

He had a motorbike parked in the square. He handed Toni a helmet and put on his own.

'This is mad,' said Toni when they got to the entrance to the amusement park.

'Trust me.'

'I've never been on a roller coaster before. I might get sick.'

'You won't. Follow me.'

When they were strapped in, their chair began to move up and up and up until Toni could see the Malvern Hills in the distance. As they reached the crest, Toni clutched Simon's arm. 'I don't think I can take this.' The car plunged down and Toni screamed and screamed. She screamed like a banshee through the whole ride and when Simon helped her out at the end, she felt her legs wobble.

'What was that all about?' she asked weakly.

'It's scream therapy. I came here when my parents were killed. Don't worry about the job. I'll pick it up as I go along. Oh, look. Candy floss. I'll get us some.'

He danced off, turning round to grin at her. What an odd boy, thought Toni. Like a jester. All he needs is a cap and bells.