‘No wonder you want to leave the countryside,’ exclaimed Phil. ‘You must be frightened to death.’
‘Why?’
‘Some psycho is going around murdering people.’
‘Ah, but I didn’t know the horrible Gary Beech.’
‘If you didn’t know him, how do you know he was horrible?’
‘His penchant for ticketing everyone was legendary. You do ask a lot of questions.’
‘Comes from being retired,’ said Phil. ‘I live a pretty lonely life, and I get curious about people. More tea?’
‘No thanks. I’d better be getting home. Wolfgang’s due back from school, and the younger ones are with the nanny.’
‘How old are they?’
‘Wolfgang’s thirteen, Josie’s five and Carol is four. Carol goes to a kindergarten twice a week. That’s all. She’s not very strong.’
‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘Nobody knows. She seems to be physically healthy, but she cries a lot. Look, I’ve enjoyed talking to you. Give me your card. Maybe we’ll meet up again.’
‘I’d like that.’ Phil carefully extracted a card that had only his home number and address.
‘Carsely.’ Her eyes sharpened. ‘Now why does that ring a bell?’
‘Been in the papers,’ said Phil easily. ‘That woman detective had a head delivered to her.’
‘God, how awful. Agatha Raisin, isn’t it? Well, she’s in a man’s world, so she’ll just have to learn to take it.’
When she had left, Phil thoughtfully ordered more tea and phoned Toni. ‘I’d leave her to me,’ he finished, then asked, ‘What happened in that shop?’
Toni told him. ‘Her ex-husband probably warned her off,’ said Phil. ‘I’ve established some sort of friendship. Why is Agatha so interested? Fiona seems an ordinary housewife.’
‘Agatha is suspicious of Richards despite his clean bill of health from the police. She feels Fiona might know something without being aware of it. She feels there is something seriously wrong with a man who wants women to go and get face-lifts.’
Phil finally finished drinking his tea and made his way out. He had an odd feeling of being watched, so to be on the safe side, he did not go back to the office.
That evening, Agatha was settling down to a solitary meal at the George, wondering bitterly why James had not tried to contact her, when a tall, well-groomed man approached her table. He was dressed in smart casual. He had silver hair and a tanned face, hooded pale eyes and a fleshy mouth.
‘Mrs Raisin?’
‘Yes?’ demanded Agatha suspiciously.
He slid into a chair opposite her. ‘My name is Guy Brandon. I’m the main judge in the Woman of the Year.’
‘I was very flattered to be nominated,’ said Agatha eagerly. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Yes, but I’ll have a coffee and brandy if that’s all right with you.’
Agatha waved the waiter over and gave the order.
‘I really think you should get the prize,’ he said. ‘You’re quite a legend.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Oh, I’m behind you, but the other two judges, well, they favour Cressida Jones-Wilkes.’
‘Who the hell is she? Never heard of her.’
‘She runs a very successful garden centre on the Stow road.’
His brandy and coffee arrived. ‘Of course, the other two judges could be made to change their minds. But it costs money.’
Agatha opened her handbag and surreptitiously switched on a powerful little tape recorder. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I was looking for my cigarettes. I always forget about the smoking ban. You were saying that the other two judges could be
He threw his head back and laughed, displaying a mouthful of large, cosmetically whitened teeth.
‘You have the reputation for being blunt, Mrs Raisin. But just think of the boost it would give your detective agency if you were elected. Midlands television are going to cover the event.’
‘How much?’ demanded Agatha.
‘I should think two thousand pounds each should settle the matter.’
‘Who are the other two judges?’
‘Mary Mamble, who runs the Arts Centre, and Sir Jonathan Beery.’
‘You used to be an MP, didn’t you?’ asked Agatha. ‘You lost your seat at the last election. What are you doing now?’
‘This and that. I write articles for the papers and sit on several committees. I am much in demand. In fact, I am a pretty famous public speaker.’
‘I am not going to hand out money until I know I am elected,’ said Agatha. ‘Tell them that as soon as I am, they will get the money.’
‘And two thousand to me,’ said Guy quickly. ‘I have to do all the work of persuading them.’
‘All right,’ said Agatha. ‘Same deal. I get elected and you and the others get paid immediately afterwards. I assume you all want cash?’
‘You are so quick on the uptake.’
‘Aren’t I just,’ said Agatha, her bearlike eyes glinting oddly in the light. ‘But get this. This is a ladies’ agreement. You do not see any cash until the deed is done.’
‘But surely . . . I mean, a little in advance?’
‘Not a penny.’
‘I suppose I’ll have to trust you.’
‘Oh, you’d better. For your own good.’
‘I’ll be in touch.’ He smoothed back his hair with a nervous hand.
Oh, dear, thought Agatha, watching his retreating back. What a wicked world!
Chapter Eight
Roy Silver drove happily down into Carsely early on Friday evening. He wondered whether Agatha would admire his new appearance. His hair had started to grow again, so he had gelled it into spikes. Very much taken with his punk appearance, he had decided to go for the retro look and was wearing flares and an open-necked shirt, displaying a gold medallion on his skinny, hairless chest.
He parked behind Agatha’s car and got out. He was opening the boot to take out his small suitcase when he was seized from behind and something cold and hard was thrust against his neck.
‘One squeak out of you and you’re dead,’ growled a voice.
Terrified, Roy felt himself being dragged into a van and thrown in the back. The van took off with a roar. Where was Agatha? wondered Roy, trembling uncontrollably. A man wearing a balaclava sat in the back of the van, holding a gun on him. He searched Roy’s pockets and took away his wallet and mobile phone.
‘Why are you doing this?’ pleaded Roy.
‘If the Raisin woman does as she’s told, then you’ve nothing to fear,’ said the man. ‘So shut up and stop whimpering or I will shoot you.’
As the evening dragged on without any sign of Roy, Agatha tried his mobile phone but did not get any reply. Then there was a ring at the doorbell. Roy, at last. She opened it and found James on the doorstep.
‘I thought you were Roy,’ said Agatha. ‘I’m expecting him.’
‘His car’s parked outside. Maybe he’s gone for a walk round the village, although it looks as if a storm is coming.’
Agatha felt fear clutch at her heart. ‘But he wouldn’t go for a walk after a long drive from London. Oh, God, what if something’s happened to him?’
‘Calm down. What could anyone want with Roy?’
