imagine James and Beth cosily ensconced in some pub or restaurant, talking about early nineteenth-century history, getting to know each other better. The girl was a pill, but James had been tricked by Mary Fortune, so who was to say he was not going to be seduced by the daughter?
The doorbell rang after she had spent half an hour amusing herself by playing with the cats in the garden. She glanced at the clock. Only two. Still, James might, with luck, have cut the lunch short.
But it was John Deny, Beth's boyfriend, who stood on the step.
'Oh, come in,' said Agatha, falling back a pace. 'What can I do for you?' He followed her into the living-room and slumped down in an armchair. He was wearing torn jeans and Doc Martens. There was something heavy and threatening about him.
'I thought you had gone away for a few days,' said Agatha.
'Obviously that friend of yours, Lacey, thought so too,' said John.
'What do you mean?'
'I met a smelly old woman in Harvey's, that post-office place, and she said something about us outsiders having no morals at all and that Lacey, having screwed the mother, was now out to screw the daughter.'
'I cannot imagine,' said Agatha, correctly identifying the culprit, 'that old Mrs Boggle would use that sort of language.'
'That's what it amounted to. What gives?'
'Beth and James share a common interest in history.'
'Is that what it is?' he sneered. 'I don't think your friend Lacey has any interest in Beth's knowledge of history. I think, along with you, he's the village snoop. Beth's got enough on her plate without being manipulated by a couple of middle-aged Miss Marples, Leave her alone.'
'Whatever happened to the modern woman?' asked Agatha sweetly. 'Is Beth not allowed to make up her own mind about who she sees?'
'She can't make up her mind about anything, the state she's in. Also, she's rich now, and I don't want any middle-aged Lothario chasing her to get his hands on her money or, for that matter, his hands up her skirt.'
'Bugger off, pillock,' said Agatha wearily.
He stared at her in amazement.
'You heard,' snarled Agatha. 'You probably murdered Mary Fortune yourself, come to think of it.' She stood up. He stood up as well and loomed over her threateningly.
'This is a nasty village full of nasty people,' he said. 'And an old wrinkly like you is one of the nastiest. Tell Lacey to keep away from her.'
'Tell him yourself,' said Agatha. 'Now get out.'
The doorbell rang. Agatha went to answer it, but he blocked her way.
'I haven't finished with you yet,' he said.
The front door, which Agatha had not locked, opened, and to her relief Bill Wong walked in. He saw Agatha standing with her eyes blazing and her hands clenched. He saw John Deny glaring down at her.
'Trouble, Agatha?' he asked.
'Yes,' said Agatha. 'Mr Deny has just been threatening me.'
'Indeed? Well, Mr Deny, you come with me and we'll have a talk about this. Come along.'
John shouldered his way past Agatha. 'I'll get you for this, you old trout,' he said.
Agatha sat down weakly when they had gone. She then began to worry about her burglar-alarm system. It had gone on the blink while she had been away on holiday and she had done nothing about phoning up the security people. But part of the security system was that outside lights went on all around the cottage when anybody approached and she did not want her back garden floodlit when Roy and his men arrived to put in the plants. But right after that, she would get it fixed.
She turned on the television set and stared blankly at a movie, the kind which tried to make up for lack of script with exploding cars and blasting guns.
At first she did not hear the doorbell above the noise and then a sudden cessation in the shooting and screaming brought it to her ears and she scrambled to her feet and went to answer it.
'Why didn't you just walk in like last time?' she asked Bill Wong, who stood there grinning at her.
'The reason I walked in last time was because one of the locals said they had seen John Deny going into your cottage, and when you didn't immediately answer the bell I decided to let myself in. You always run to answer the bell, Agatha, and when you see me, your face always falls in disappointment, as if you were expecting someone else.'
'You're imagining things,' said Agatha curtly. 'Come in.'
She switched off the television and turned to him. 'So what did he have to say for himself?'
'Derry? He thinks you are an interfering old bag and that Lacey is either out to pinch his girlfriend or prove she murdered her mother.'
'That's mad. James and I only called on them once. Admittedly James has been seeing more of her since then, but...'
'No doubt they have heard about your reputation for sleuthing. I warned him not to disturb you again.'
'You should have charged him!'
'What with? Yes, he says he threatened you. But I believe he's just a suly young man.'
'You won't say that when you find me one dark night planted in my own garden, upside down, and full of weedkiller. He's strong enough to have hoisted her up on that hook.'
'We're not sitting on our bums, Agatha.'
'So what do you know that I don't?'
'That the body has been released for burial.'
'When is the funeral?'
'At a crematorium in Oxford tomorrow. Don't have any mad ideas about going in the hope that the murderer is lurking in the bushes. We've promised Beth Fortune to keep it quiet. She says she doesn't want nosy villagers or the press.'
'What about the husband? Is he coming over?'
'No, he doesn't want to know anything about it. Miss Fortune is going to the States to see him during the Christmas holidays. There's your doorbell. No doubt that's Lacey returned from his lunch. I'll get it just in case Derry's been stupid enough to come back.'
He returned, followed by James. 'Well?'
Agatha greeted him. 'How did you get on? While you were romancing Beth, her boyfriend was round here threatening me and telling me to warn you off.'
'Why on earth would he do that?'
'He thinks you're after her money, among other things.'
'I cannot understand what Beth sees in a lout like that.'
'I do. Like to like,' said Agatha, turning her eyes away from Bill's sharp look.
'She is a highly intelligent girl,' said James stiffly.
'We don't seem to be getting very far forward,' said Agatha in a placating tone. 'I mean, I am beginning to think it must have been someone from outside the village, someone from Mary's past. If it wasn't the husband, then it could have been someone she had an affair with. Sorry, James, I meant someone else.'
'We're working on the American end,' said Bill, getting to his feet. 'I'll leave you two to discuss the case with the usual warning. Don't get involved and don't go around suspecting villagers and letting them know it.'
There was a silence after he had left. Then James said, 'I made notes on our interviews. Would you like to come next door and we'll go over them?'
Agatha had a sudden pettish desire to say she would not. Damn Beth, she thought. Somehow Beth had reanimated all those feelings for James which Agatha thought she had lost. Competitiveness was a great part of Agatha Raisin's character.
'Wait and I'll get my cigarettes,' she said. 'You don't object to me smoking, do you?'
'I don't object to anyone smoking. I used to smoke myself.'
'You amaze me. Most of the people who've stopped are militant anti-smokers. How did you stop?'
'I got tired of it,' said James, who had actually given up smoking several years ago to please the then-current love of his life.
