Simon grinned. 'Yes, wouldn't it just.'
'Isn't it, well, a wee bit naughty?'
'Just a bit.'
'Oh, all right then,' said May. 'It's a good thing that John Sunday is dead. He'd soon have found something out.'
'I read about that. Perhaps before I meet the vicar I should go back to my place and collect my belongings and get you the money from the bank?'
'Yes, yes, of course,' twittered May.
'Am I supposed to be Scottish, like you?'
'I wouldn't bother. My poor sister, now dead, was married to an Englishman. They did not have any children, but nobody in the village knows that.'
Simon said goodbye and May sat down and stared out at the rippling waters of the millpond. She gained a little money from selling her toys at various fairs, but her pension did not stretch to much. Her last luxury was smoking and she thought day in and day out about giving it up. What if this odd-looking young man didn't come back?
But two hours later, Simon came back driving his father's old vintage Morris Minor. He felt it was more suitable than a motorbike to his image of a young man interested in the church. He carried in a box of sheets and towels and pillowslips and then gave May an envelope full of money.
Simon went back to bring in a suitcase and while he was hanging his clothes away, he briefly regretting that he would not be seeing Toni for some time. Agatha Raisin appeared to be rather a formidable woman. Still, she was reported to have solved a lot of cases and it took an intelligent woman to do that.
_______
Mircester market happened once a week in the little square in front of the abbey. Agatha loved poking around it, often buying tempting fresh fruit and vegetables which she never got around to eating and ended up giving away.
Then as she looked across the stalls, she saw Tom Courtney's sister, Amy Bairns. Her stomach gave a lurch. She was in no doubt as to what Amy was doing in the area. Hadn't escaped murderers, or in Amy's case, assistant murderers historically come back to wreak vengeance?
She edged her way round the stalls until she was behind the woman and grasped her firmly and began to scream, 'Police! Help!'
Two policemen on duty at the market rushed up. 'Leave me alone,' shouted Amy in an American accent. 'This woman's mad.'
'And this woman,' panted Agatha, 'is the sister of that murderer, Tom Courtney.'
The policemen took over. They handcuffed her and led her off with Agatha following.
Agatha was told to wait in the reception area of police headquarters. She felt elated with triumph.
After half an hour, a tall man strode up to the desk sergeant and demanded, 'What are you doing with my wife?'
'What is the name of your wife?'
'Maisie Berger. We're here on holiday and they tell me at the market that some woman started screaming at poor Maisie and Maisie was taken in here.'
The desk sergeant pressed the buzzer. 'If you will just come through, sir.'
A little lump of ice began to form in Agatha's stomach. She couldn't be wrong. Of course--they must have fake passports.
Another half hour dragged past. The plastic palm which decorated the waiting area was dusty. The cheerful noises from the market filtered in from the street. Several members of the press started to come in, demanding to know who had been arrested. They swung round and saw Agatha and were bearing down on her when Inspector Wilkes called, 'Mrs. Raisin, if you will just come this way.'
Agatha was buzzed through and led into an interview room. As she sat down opposite Wilkes, she noticed first that he was alone, and second that the tape wasn't running.
'The woman you grabbed is exactly who she says she is,' said Wilkes. 'What on earth made you think she was Amy Bairns?'
'It was that California face-lift look, you know, they all look as if they came off the same alien planet.'
'We have given them full apologies and we are paying their hotel bill, plus a set of golfing clubs for the husband and a week at a health spa for both of them so that they will not press charges. We will send you the bill for all this in return for us not arresting you for wasting police time. You will leave by the back door and you will not, repeat not, speak to the press. Get it?'
'Got it,' said Agatha miserably.
Wilkes's expression softened slightly. He had to admit that he too had received a shock when he had first seen Mrs. Berger. She did look almost identical to the missing Amy Bairns.
'Go back to your usual run-of-the-mill detecting, Mrs. Raisin. That will be all.'
He rang a bell and told the policewoman who answered the summons, 'Show Mrs. Raisin out by the back way.'
When Agatha got back to the office, she said to Mrs. Freedman, 'If there are any calls from the press, I'm not available.'
'There've been quite a few already,' said Mrs. Freedman.
Patrick was helping himself to a cup of coffee. 'What's up?' he asked.
Agatha told him. She ending by exclaiming, 'How could I have been so stupid?'
Patrick looked at her for a long moment. Then he said, 'Did you ever see a photo of Dr. Bairns?'
'No, why? Well, maybe I must have. I think there was a grainy photo in one of the newspapers I saw.'
'Let me check my computer,' said Patrick. 'I made contact with a chap in the Philadelphia police and he sent me some stuff over.'
'They must be who they say they are,' protested Agatha. 'They had passports and everything, I suppose.'
'Give me a few minutes. Have a cigarette and relax.'
Mrs. Freedman gave a loud sigh as Agatha lit up a cigarette, and pointedly opened the window next to her desk as far as it would go.
'I'll lock the door,' said Agatha. 'I can hear the clump of press footsteps on the stairs.'
Patrick tapped away at the keys while Agatha ignored the ringing of the doorbell and the shouts through the letter box.
'Got it,' he said at last. 'Come and have a look.'
Agatha went over and studied the photograph on his computer. 'It's him!' she shouted. 'The man who said he was Berger. Which means he's Dr. Bairns and she's Amy! Come on, Patrick. Print that off and we'll take it to Wilkes.'
'What is she up to now?' asked Wilkes when the desk sergeant phoned through to say Mrs. Raisin and Patrick Mulligan were back with vital information and if he didn't see them quick, a murderer would get away. He had shut the press outside, but Mrs. Raisin had promised them a statement after she saw Wilkes.
'I'll send someone to fetch her,' said Wilkes. 'But I think she's finally cracked.'
Detective Sergeant Collins appeared, her eyes gleaming with malice and her hair as usual pulled back so tightly into a bun that it made Agatha wonder why she didn't suffer from permanent headaches.
'You've done it this time, you silly old trout,' said Collins. 'The press will have a field day.'
'Oh, they will indeed,' said Agatha sweetly.
Wilkes met her in the corridor. 'Come in,' he snapped. 'What mad idea have you had now?'
Patrick and Agatha followed him into the interview room. 'Show him that photo, Patrick,' said Agatha.
Patrick put the printed-out photo on the desk in front of Wilkes. 'That,' said Agatha, 'is a photo of Dr. Bairns, Amy Bairns's husband. Recognise the face?'
Wilkes shouted, 'Wait there!' and rushed from the room. They could hear him frantically shouting instructions. Agatha went to the window. Police were erupting out of the police station and heading off in the direction of The George Hotel. Other police cars were racing off. Patrick joined her.
