his and leading him away.
“Do be careful, Agatha,” whispered James.
“What about?”
“Sylvan has the reputation of being a ladykiller.”
“Then he can kill me anytime,” said Agatha.
“Now you’re being silly.”
“Don’t call me silly. You always used to run me down.”
“No, I did not. You love playing the victim, Agatha.”
“I am not a victim,” howled Agatha.
There was a sudden silence in the room. Then everyone started chattering loudly again.
Agatha stomped off to join the comforting presence of her friend, Mrs. Bloxby. “Where’s your husband?” asked Agatha.
“He had a headache and left,” said Mrs. Bloxby. “What upset James?”
“He was warning me against Sylvan.”
“But he need not worry. You’re over bothering about men, aren’t you?” asked Mrs. Bloxby anxiously.
“Oh, sure,” said Agatha.
Agatha looked across the room and her eyes fastened on Sylvan talking to a radiant Toni. Her eyes narrowed. “Excuse me,” she said.
Mrs. Bloxby watched as her friend deftly cut out Toni and led Sylvan away, watched as she laughed and talked and tossed her hair, unaware of the fact that bits of her extensions were floating off. She gave a sigh.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bill Wong.
“It’s Mrs. Raisin,” said Mrs. Bloxby. “She’s off again!”
Sylvan announced after half an hour that he had to leave. “I’ll see you at the wedding, Agatha,” he said.
“Perhaps I’ll be in Paris before then,” said Agatha hopefully. But Sylvan merely smiled and leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek. As soon as he had gone, Agatha realized her feet were killing her and her head was itching.
“You know,” said Roy, appearing behind her, “a lot of your hair has fallen out.”
Agatha took out a compact and peered in the mirror. “I’ll sue that bastard,” she raged.
“How did you get on with that attractive Frenchman?”
“All right,” said Agatha, feeling like a fool. What must he have thought of her as she stood there, monopolizing him and losing hair right, left, and centre? Would she only be a joke to tell his friends about?
“Can you put me up for the night?” asked Roy.
“Yes, I’m taking a cab home. I’ve left my car in the square, but I don’t want to drive after all this champagne. Could we leave now?”
“I think you should circulate for a bit. You haven’t spoken to any of your staff.”
Agatha decided she had better do her social duty. She talked to Mrs. Freedman, Patrick and Phil. She moved on to Toni and Harry and asked them how they were getting on with the new agency and listened with only half an ear.
At last she decided enough was enough, collected Roy and said goodnight to James and Felicity.
At the cloakroom she collected her cloak and her bag with the flat shoes in it and slipped them on, groaning with relief.
Charles joined them. “I’m coming with you.”
“If you’re coming home for the night, it’s the sofa for you,” said Agatha.
Back in her cottage, Agatha said she was too tired to sit up discussing the party and took herself off upstairs.
As she changed out of her clothes into a nightdress and wiped off her make-up, she worried and worried that she had bored Sylvan. Had she talked too much? He had asked her about her work and she remembered she had gone on about it for a long time. But at least she would see him again. The tentacles of obsession were coiling once more around Agatha’s brain.
At one point in the night, she woke up with an odd feeling of dread. She thought of Felicity and James and was overcome by a wave of fear. Something was wrong. Something was badly wrong. Then she shrugged the feeling away.
It was those shrimp canapes and champagne, thought Agatha, and then fell asleep again, dreaming of Sylvan.
Read on for an excerpt from
ONE OF AGATHA Raisin’s greatest character defects was that she was highly competitive.
Her former employee, young Toni Gilmour, had set up her own detective agency, financed by another of Agatha’s ex-detectives, Harry Beam. Agatha worked around the clock, taking on every case for her own detective agency she could in order to prove that the mature could beat the young hands down.
