Agatha Raisin and The Wellspring of Death

marriage.'

He buried his hands in his thick dark hair. 'I never thought of that.'

Agatha shook her head. Bill was highly intelligent when it came to police work but when it came to dealing with women, he was as thick as two planks.

'Anyway, enough of my love life. What about yours?'

'A mess. James has taken off again and I think it's because he anticipated trouble from Mary Owen and her sister, so he cleared off, leaving me to deal with any trouble on my own.'

'That doesn't sound like James.'

'That's very like James. He did the same thing to me in Cyprus. So I'm seeing Guy Freemont this evening and now I don't really want to see him. It was Portia warning me off...'

'Portia? Portia Salmond, the secretary?'

'The same. She said she was having an affair with Guy.'

'Messy. Do you really fancy Guy?'

Agatha sighed. 'Only when my ego is battered, as it is now. I'm flattered that a younger man, a handsome man, should want my company. But I don't think I want to be seen out with him, I feel so battered. I think I'll run over to Marks and Spencer in Cheltenham and get something and have a meal here.'

'Hasn't he booked a table at some restaurant?'

'If he has, he can cancel it. I want peace and privacy to tell him that the affair is over.'

'So you were having an affair!'

'Does that shock you?'

'No. No I suppose not. I suppose it's because we're friends, I never think of you in that way.' Bill laughed. 'Rather like finding out one's mother is having an affair.'

A picture of Bill's sour mother rose before Agatha's eyes. She wondered whether it would not be better to forget about love and romance, to forget about dieting and the beautician and get fat and frumpy and wear large tentlike dresses and eat everything smothered in double cream.

She suddenly wished that Roy would change his mind and come down. She would cancel her date and they would both go out on an eating binge.

'Ever find that cat?'

'No, no white Persians anywhere.'

Agatha rested her chin on her hands. 'I've been thinking about all of them, the parish councillors. At first it seemed incredible that any one of such a bunch of worthy citizens should commit murder, but once you start scraping below the surface, there's all these resentments and jealousies and passions. Find out anything about where Robina got her notes typed?'

'No, we've hit a dead end on that one as well.'

'I'm really beginning to think it was Andy Stiggs.'

'The vice-chairman. Why him?'

'He seems a violent man. He had a life-long resentment against Robert Struthers because Strufhers married the love of his life and Andy married a shrew on the rebound and blamed Robert for that. Then he really hated the idea of the water company, and furthermore he thought he ought to have been chairman.'

'We've got nothing on him. That's the trouble with this lot. There's nothing in any of their backgrounds that points to the character of a murderer.'

'There is Mary Owen, however, paying that group to make trouble.'

'She's certainly a nasty piece of work.'

'They're all nasty,' said Agatha. 'In fact, I have endured so many threats and insults that you'll be glad to learn that I am not going to do any more investigating.'

'Now, that's sensible, Agatha. The police may seem to be moving very slowly, but we're thorough and we'll get there in the end. Although I must admit I'm tired and I'm taking the rest of the day off.'

Agatha drove into Cheltenham and bought food for dinner: salmon mousse for a starter, duckling in orange sauce--check the packet to make sure it could go in the microwave--and sticky toffee pudding. She also bought some microwavable vegetables and a packet of potatoes in a cheese sauce. She wasn't quite sure whether potatoes au gratin went with duckling in orange sauce, but she did not feel like buying real ones.

She then loaded the groceries in her car and walked back along the Promenade, looking in the expensive boutiques, hoping to spy some dress which would miraculously take years off her, but without success.

When she returned home, she put the packets of food in the fridge and went upstairs to lie down for an hour and read. But she fell fast asleep, not waking until six in the evening.

She awoke with a start and let out a faint scream when she saw the time on her bedside clock. She went downstairs to lay the table in the dining-room and to vacuum the sitting-room and set the fire ready to be lit.

Then she went upstairs again and had a bath and began to search through her stock of clothes for something elegant but comfortable to wear. She finally found a long purple caftan with gold embroidery which she hadn't worn in years. It would do. It was loose and comfortable and yet looked like a dinner gown.

She then made up her face carefully and brushed her hair till it shone.

Agatha was about to rise from the dressing-table when she gave an exclamation of irritation.

The clothes she had been wearing the day before were thrown in a heap in the corner of the room. It was not as if she expected Guy to see the inside of her bedroom again, but still, they ought to be in the laundry basket.

She picked up her underwear and a navy blouse. She tossed the lot into the laundry basket. Then in the bright light of the bathroom--one-hundred-watt bulb, all the better to see you with--she stared down into the laundry.

She gingerly picked up the navy blouse. There, on the back of it, were several white hairs. Surely they were cat hairs!

She ran into the bedroom and found the skirt she had been wearing. Two white hairs clung to the skirt.

She sat down suddenly on the bed. Mary Owen. It must have been Mary Owen.

But she had a sudden vivid picture of Mary Owen barking, 'Sit down,' and she had refused. Certainly Mary had come up close to her when she had shoved her in front of the mirror.

Then another picture came into her mind. Portia. And she had sat on Portia's sofa while Portia had sneered at her.

She must phone Bill. He had said he was taking the rest of the day off. She got her personal phone book and dialled his number.

'What is it?' demanded a cross voice on the other end of the line. Mrs Wong.

'This is Agatha Raisin and I must speak to Bill immediately.'

'He's in the bath and I'm not getting him.'

Agatha took a deep breath. 'I'm phoning to tell him Sharon is pregnant.'

There was a gasp and then the sound of retreating footsteps. Agatha hung on grimly.

'Rubbish,' she heard Bill saying. 'She's joking.' Then his voice came on the phone.

'What the hell are you up to, Agatha? You've nearly given Mum a heart attack.'

'Bill, listen! I had to get you to the phone. The clothes I was wearing to Portia's last night. They've got white cat hairs on them.'

'We never even thought of her,' said Bill. 'I'll get on to it right away. Good work.'

For once Bill ignored his mother's questions and doggedly got dressed. He was just about to go out when the phone rang again. He seized the receiver before his mother could get to it. 'James Lacey,' said the hurried voice at the other end. 'Listen!'

Bill listened. Then he said, 'Christ. And he's at Agatha's tonight!'

Earlier that day, James had taken an old friend to lunch in the City. They talked of old times and at last James felt he had had enough of the courtesies and asked abruptly, 'Did you find out anything about the Freemont brothers?'

His friend, Johnny Birrell, said, 'I asked about and dug about. They borrowed very heavily from the banks to fund this water company.'

'So they didn't come out of Hong Kong very rich? I suppose I'm naive, I thought every businessman came out