Agatha Raisin and the Busy Body

'What kind of car have they got?'

'The neighbours say they haven't got a car.'

'Off you go, Agatha. I need more men out here to check the fields.'

'Wait!' cried Agatha. 'Dan Palmer's car.' She scrabbled in her bag and brought out her notebook and flipped through the pages. 'Here it is.' She gave Bill the make and registration. 'That car was never found. They could be using that.'

Bill went back to his car and frantically radioed instructions for roadblocks to be set up.

As she drove, Agatha phoned Toni and Simon and told them to start searching for the missing Beagles and Summers.

Agatha waited impatiently at police headquarters for someone to interview her. After an hour, she was shown into the old interview room she remembered so well--scarred table, institutional green walls and hard chairs.

A woman detective Agatha had not met before came in, flanked by a police sergeant. 'I am Detective Sergeant Annie Plack and this is Police Sergeant Peter Lynn,' she began.

Annie Plack had shiny black hair and clear blue eyes. Agatha wondered vaguely if Bill had fallen for her yet.

The tape was switched on and Agatha began her statement. Annie had heard stories about Agatha, how she never did any real detective work, just blundered about and stirred things up until something had cracked. But she had to admit that no detective or police officer could have hit on the idea that the vicar's wife would consider it not genteel to mention anyone leaving to use the loo.

When Agatha had signed her statement, she was told to wait in the reception area.

At last, Annie came out and sat down next to her. 'It has been suggested that we put you up in a safe flat for the next few days. A policewoman will go to your home and wait until you pack up.'

Agatha thought of her cats. 'I'll be all right,' she said mutinously. 'I've got a burglar alarm. They're old people.'

'They may have committed two murders, Mrs. Raisin, the last one being particularly nasty.'

'No, I absolutely refuse. I'll be all right.'

Simon, accompanied by Toni, decided to call on May Dinwoody. No one in the village was talking to either them or the police. Simon hoped it might still be possible that May would talk to him.

May was about to close the door in his face when Simon said urgently, 'We can pay for information.'

The door opened a few inches.

'How much?' asked May, thinking of her straitened circumstances.

'Two hundred pounds.'

'Come in, then. But what can I tell you that could possibly be worth two hundred pounds?'

'Fred and Charlie have disappeared along with their wives. They may have the car that belonged to that reporter. You know the countryside around here. Where could they possibly go that the police would not think of looking?'

May sat in silence, her brow wrinkled up in thought. Then she said, 'There's just the one place.'

'Where's that?' asked Toni.

'Thirley Grange. It belonged to Sir Mark Thirley, who died last year. Terrible death duties. But it's a Georgian gem and his nephew has managed to get the National Trust to agree to take it over. They haven't started work yet, but they've put a man at the lodge and repaired the walls and fences, and they've got a night watchman to patrol the place. There are a lot of outbuildings and stables and things and an old folly in the grounds.'

'Is there any way they could get in past the man at the lodge?' asked Simon.

'I used to wander round there last year before the Trust began work. It was so quiet and the grounds, although badly in need of upkeep, are still pretty. There is a back road . . . Wait. I've got an ordnance survey map. I bought it when I first moved here, so it might be out of date.'

She left the room. Simon walked to the window and looked down at the millpond. The day had turned grey and chilly. He swung round as May came back into the room. 'Here we are,' she said, spreading the map on the table. 'That is the Grange and just there, that dotted line, that's a back road. It was used in the old days by tradesmen, but I don't think it's been used since the middle of the last century. After the war, the old habits died away and people couldn't find staff and so the tradesmen just went up the main drive.'

'Why do you think they did it?' asked Toni.

'If they did,' said May severely. 'Oh, dear, it was those Christmas lights. They were photographed in Cotswold Life and then they were filmed on Midlands TV. They were so proud. Then John Sunday turned up to ruin it all. Money, please.'

Simon took out his chequebook and wrote out a cheque for two hundred pounds.

May blushed. 'I shouldn't be taking this, but times are hard.'

'We'll just borrow this map,' said Simon, 'and I'll return it to you later.'

Outside, they tried to phone Agatha, but she was being interviewed and had her phone switched off.

'We'll go and recce anyway,' said Simon. 'We'll take your car. My motorbike makes too much noise.'

_______

Thirley Grange was buried in a fold of the Cotswold hills a good fifteen miles from the village. There were no signposts to it.

They finally located a weedy lane beside the ruin of a cottage. 'Look!' exclaimed Toni. 'I think someone's been through here already. You can just make out car tracks. Oh, Simon, we really should phone the police.'

'And they'll arrive with sirens blaring and helicopters overhead and we may never catch them,' said Simon. 'We'd look like real amateurs. See how far along you can drive.'

Toni set off again. Trees and bushes began to press against the car on either side. Toni finally stopped again. 'I'm not going to sacrifice my paintwork on a hunch,' she said. 'Let's get out and walk.'

'It can't be that far,' said Simon as they trudged along. 'I mean, May said it was a Georgian gem. Gems surely don't have that much land.'

They walked forward under the green shade of the overarching trees. Simon suddenly stopped. A patch of mud on the road showed clear tyre tracks.

Toni took out her phone. 'I'm trying Agatha again.'

'Why?'

'Because she's the boss. You don't keep things like this away from Agatha.'

This time Toni got Agatha and talked rapidly. 'Don't run into danger. You catch a glimpse of even one of them, call the police. I'm coming.'

Agatha phoned Charles. 'Toni thinks they might be hiding out at a place called Thirley Grange. Know it? They're on a back road to it.'

'Where are you?'

'Parked in front of police headquarters.'

'I'm in Mircester. I'll be with you in a minute.'

Agatha thought she ought to call Patrick and Phil off the jobs they were working on, but then decided against it. It was too much of a long shot that they would find the couples.

Charles joined her and they set off.

'There's the back of the house,' whispered Toni as they emerged from the trees sheltering the road. 'What should we do now?'

'I think we should hide back in the trees and bushes and watch,' said Simon.

They crouched down in the bushes and waited. The house seemed ruined, empty and deserted. 'If they drove right up,' whispered Toni, 'then their car must be badly scratched. I noticed an awful lot of broken twigs and branches as we walked along. They must be there. No one else would be crazy enough to force a car along that road.'

'Agatha won't be long now,' whispered Simon. 'You should have left it to us.'