Agatha Raisin
The fifth book in the
1996
ONE
IT was a week before the wedding of Agatha Raisin to James Lacey. The villagers of Carsely in the English Cot-swolds were disappointed that Agatha was not to be married in the village church but in the registry office in Mircester, and Mrs. Bloxby, the vicar's wife, was puzzled and hurt.
Only Agatha knew that she had no proof that her husband was dead. Only Agatha knew that she might be about to commit bigamy. But Agatha was obsessed with her handsome and attractive neighbour, James Lacey, and terrified that if she put off the wedding until she found that proof that she would lose him. She had not seen her drunken husband, Jimmy Raisin, in years. He
She had chosen the registry office in Mircester because the clerk was old and deaf and totally incurious and she simply had to make statements and fill forms without providing any actual proof, except that of her passport which was still in her maiden name of Agatha Styles. The wedding reception was to be held in the village hall and pretty much everyone in Carsely had been invited.
But unknown to Agatha, forces were already working against her. Her young, erstwhile friend, Roy Silver, in a fit of malicious pique because he felt Agatha had snubbed him over a good public relations opportunity - Roy once worked for Agatha's public relations firm and had moved to the company which had bought Agatha out when she took early retirement - had hired a detective to see if Agatha's husband could be found. Roy was possibly as fond of Agatha as he could be of anyone, but when she had solved her last murder case and he had hoped to gain some personal publicity by being associated with it, Agatha had snubbed him, and such as Roy always felt it necessary to get revenge.
But blissfully unaware of all this, Agatha put her cottage on the market, all ready to move next door into James's cottage after the wedding. From time to time, little stabs of anxiety marred her happiness. Although James made love to her, although they were frequently in each other's company, she felt she did not really know him. He was a retired army colonel, living in the Cotswold village to write military history. There was a privacy and remoteness about him. They talked about murder cases they had solved together, they talked about politics, about people in the village, but never about their feelings for each other, and James was a silent lover.
Agatha was a middle-aged woman, blunt, sometimes coarse, who had risen from poor beginnings to become a wealthy business woman. Until she retired to Carsely, she had had no real friends, her work being, she thought at the time, the only friend she needed. So, though possessed with a good deal of common sense and self-honesty, when it came to James she was blind - blinded not only by love but by the fact that, as she had never been able to let anyone get close to her, his singular lack of communication seemed to her possibly normal.
She had picked out a white wool suit to be wed in. With it she would wear a shady hat of straw with a wide brim, a green silk blouse, high-heeled black shoes, and a spray of flowers on her lapel instead of a wedding bouquet. At times, she did wish she were young again so that she could be married in white. She wished she had never married Jimmy Raisin so that she could be married in church. She tried on the white suit again and then peered closely in the mirror at her face. Her bearlike eyes were too small but could be made to look larger on the great day with a little judicious application of mascara and eye-shadow. There were those nasty little wrinkles around her mouth, and to her horror she saw a long hair sprouting from her upper lip and seized the tweezers and wrenched it out. She took off the precious suit, put on a blouse and trousers and then vigorously slapped anti- wrinkle cream all over her face. She had been dieting and that seemed to have taken care of that former double chin. Her brown hair cut in a Dutch bob gleamed with health.
The doorbell rang. She cursed under her breath, wiped off the anti-wrinkle cream and went to answer it. Mrs. Bloxby, the vicar's wife, stood on the doorstep.
'Oh, do come in,' said Agatha reluctantly. She was fond of Mrs. Bloxby, and yet the very sight of that good woman with her kind eyes and vague face sent a stab of guilt through Agatha. Mrs. Bloxby had asked Agatha what had happened to her husband and Agatha had said Jimmy was dead, but every time she saw the vicar's wife Agatha began to have an uneasy feeling that the wretched Jimmy, despite his rampant alcoholism as a young man, might have somehow survived.
Roy Silver faced the detective he had hired. She was a woman of thirty-something called Iris Harris. Ms. Harris -not miss, bite your tongue - was an ardent feminist and Roy had begun to wonder if she was any good at her job or if she specialized in haranguing clients on the rights of women. Therefore he was amazed when she said, 'I've found Jimmy Raisin.'
'Where?'
'Down under the arches in Waterloo.'
'I'd better see him,' said Roy. 'Is he there now?'
'I don't think he ever moves except to buy another bottle of meths.'
'You're sure it's him?'
Iris looked at him with contempt. 'Just because I am a woman you think I cannot do my job. Just because...'
'Spare me!' said Roy. 'I'll see him myself. You've done well. Send me the bill.' And he fled the office before she could lecture him any more.
The light was fading from the sky when Roy paid off the taxi at Waterloo Station and then walked towards the arches. Then he realized the folly of not taking Iris with him. He should have at least asked for a description. There was a young fellow sitting outside his cardboard box. He appeared sober, although Roy found his tattooed arms and shaven head somewhat scary.
'Do you know a chap called Jimmy Raisin?' ventured Roy, suddenly timid. The light was almost gone and this was a side of London he usually preferred to ignore - the homeless, the drunks, the druggies.
Had the young man denied knowledge, then Roy would have decided to forget the whole thing. He was suddenly ashamed of his low behaviour. But Agatha's stars were definitely in the descendent, so the young man said laconically, 'Over there, guv.'
Roy peered into the darkness.
'Where?'
'Third box on the left.'
Roy walked slowly towards the cardboard indicated. At first he thought it was empty but then, bending down and peering into the gloom, he caught the shine of a pair of eyes.
'Jimmy Raisin?'
'Yes, what? You from the Social?'
'I'm a friend of Agatha - Agatha Raisin.'
There was a long silence and then a wheezy cackle. 'Aggie? Thought she was dead.'
'Well, she isn't. She's being married next Wednesday. She lives in Carsely in the Costwolds. She thinks
There was a scraping and shuffling from inside the huge box and then Jimmy Raisin emerged on his hands and knees and got unsteadily to his feet. Even in the dim light, Roy could see he was wasted with drink. He was
