She decided to 'silence' him. So she changed and went round to his flat. She suggested they should get even with Ratcliffe. She and Jeffrey should drive out and cut the chain that held that padlocked gate and then both return to Jeffrey's flat for a bit of whoopee. So Jeffrey went like a lamb, cut the chain, and got struck on the head by Deborah, who had searched around while he was doing it and found that rock.
'She had somehow persuaded herself when Sir Charles asked her for that lunch he was all set for marriage. When he told her he had no intention of marrying her, she went right round the twist. That was why she was still working on that fake suicide note when you found her, James, even though she heard the police sirens outside. She was bewildered. All her life, she said, she had been driving towards the top. Do you know, in the beginning, getting to be a schoolteacher, for Deborah, was like an actor winning an Oscar. For a while, I think that was enough.'
'It was the mad father who set us off to Barfield House,' said James, and then stifled a yelp as Agatha kicked him. Agatha was determined that Bill should think they had guessed that Deborah was the one who had committed the murders.
'Oh, yes, Deborah's father,' said Bill to Agatha's surprise. 'Yes, we found he's in that prison for the criminally insane, Tadmartin. He'd murdered a woman he was living with, the one he left Mrs Camden for.'
'Did either Mrs Camden or Deborah know this?' asked James.
'I don't think so,' said Bill.
'Lots of madness in this,' said James, drawing his legs out of Agatha's reach. 'There was something in the back of my mind that Sir Charles's father died mad.'
'No, he died drunk,' said Bill. 'Terrible old sot, he was. It's a pity you two are going to have to appear in court yourselves for trespass and damage to crops after all your hard work.'
'Yes, I think you might have overlooked that,' commented Agatha.
'Can't,' said Bill. 'The irate farmer won't let us.'
'How's Sir Charles?' asked James.
'Lucky to be alive,' said Bill. 'He's in Dembley Central Hospital suffering from a bad concussion and cracked ribs. He got his ribs cracked when she dragged him down the stairs. She hit him on the head with a bottle of bath salts and then dragged him down the stairs to the kitchen. Well, I'd best be off. Thanks a lot, you two. We'd have got Deborah all right in the end. There was no way she could really cover up the murder of Sir Charles. We wouldn't have believed that suicide note for a moment. But it's thanks to you two that Sir Charles is alive. I suppose you'll be heading back to Carsely?'
'There's nothing to keep us here,' said James. 'I never want to see any of those walkers again.'
When Bill had gone, Agatha said, 'I suppose we ought to have something to eat. I don't feel like going out, do you?'
The doorbell sounded again. 'Now, who can that be?' asked James. 'I wish this door had a spyhole. If it's one of those ramblers, I swear I'll slam the door in their face.'
He stepped back in surprise when he saw Gustav. The manservant entered. He handed James two bottles of old port. 'The best in the cellars,' he said. 'Sir Charles has just recovered consciousness.'
Gustav smiled directly at Agatha for the first time. 'I understand from the police that Sir Charles would not be alive were it not for the pair of you. I am deeply grateful.'
A gratified Agatha promptly forgot all her dislike of Gustav and begged him to sit down, but he shook his head. 'My place is with Sir Charles. Do call and see him tomorrow. He will wish to thank you himself.'
'He's quite human after all,' said Agatha in surprise when Gustav had left. 'Do we sample that port or do we save it for a special occasion?'
'I think this is a special occasion,' said James with a smile. 'I'll look out some biscuits and cheese and perhaps that will do instead of dinner.'
Agatha had, in the past, in the PR days, been offered and had drunk what had merely passed for vintage port. After James had decanted a bottle, she accepted a glass, amazed that with her depraved palate, educated through the years with gin and tonics and microwave meals, she should appreciate it so much. It went down like silk. It was also very heady and somehow it seemed to disappear very quickly, and it seemed only right to decant and sample the second bottle.
And then, as they mulled over the case, in increasingly tipsy accents, it suddenly struck James as terribly funny that Agatha had driven across that farmer's field. He began to laugh and soon Agatha was giggling helplessly and that was when James suddenly stopped laughing and took her face between his hands and kissed her on the lips. All the pent-up passion in Agatha rose to meet his lips and then his wandering hands, and soon there was a trail of discarded clothing lying on the floor reaching all the way to Agatha's bed.
Agatha awoke in the grey light of dawn. Memory came flooding back immediately. Her mouth was dry with a raging thirst and her head ached.
She felt lax and immeasurably sad. She had achieved her ambition, her dreams, and got James to take her to bed, but she had not wanted it to be like this, when they were both drunk and hardly knew what they were doing. A tear rolled down one cheek and plopped on the sheet. She twisted round and looked at him. He was sleeping neatly and quietly, his face looking younger in repose.
The worst thing she could now do, she reflected, was to make anything of what had happened. She was old enough and experienced enough to know that James would never even have dreamt of kissing her had he not been extremely drunk. She would need to treat it as everyday, as lightly as she could.
If only she could reach out to him and continue the love-making of the night before. But he might reject her and she could not bear that. She got up, feeling stiff and sore after so much unaccustomed sexual exercise, and went and ran a bath and stayed soaking in it for a long time.
When she returned at last to the bedroom, the bed was empty. James put his head round the door and said, 'Just going to have a bath, darling,' and went off whistling. He's taking it lightly, thought Agatha, and I must do the same.
She dressed in a blouse and skirt and made her face up carefully, her own face looking strange to her in the mirror.
She then went through to the kitchen and made a cup of coffee and lit a cigarette.
The newspapers plopped through the letterbox and she went to get them. Must cancel these, she thought, and the milk.
James came in as she was reading them. He stooped and kissed her cheek. 'Anything about the murder?' he asked.
'Just a bit about Deborah being charged but not much more yet,' said Agatha, suddenly shy, not able to look directly at him.
'We'll take the papers along with us and have breakfast outside,' he said, 'and then we'll get some grapes or something and go and visit Charles. Do you think he'll pay us?'
'I didn't think of that,' said Agatha. 'Should he?'
'Oh, I think so. I mean, we're going to have to pay that farmer for the damage, along with a fine and court costs. If Fraith doesn't offer anything, I'll bill him on behalf of both of us. Coming? You'd better put on a sweater or a jacket or something. It looks a bit chilly.'
Agatha went to get a sweater, glad all at once that they were going to have breakfast outside, among people.
As they tucked into bacon and eggs in a hotel dining-room, James eyed Agatha across the table. She looked smaller, vulnerable and very withdrawn. She would not meet his eyes. They had been very drunk the night before, admittedly, and he should do the gentlemanly thing and not refer to it, but her passion and generosity had been amazing. Quite amazing. Who would have thought that Agatha, of all people...
The thought broke off as Agatha said, 'Do you think there'll be anything in the newspapers about us?'
'Not unless the police tell them. We'll be present at the trial as witnesses, so our part in it will come out then.'
'Should we phone the papers ourselves?' He laughed. 'Maybe not. Better to keep a low profile. Perhaps we'll make a career of it - Raisin and Lacey, detectives, set up our own bureau of investigation.' Agatha's face lit up. 'Why not?'
'Are you serious? I was only joking.'
'I don't see why not. We make a good team.'
'We'll think about it. Now, if you're finished, let's go and see Charles.'
