Agatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryfam (20 page)

‘I am a friend of Lucy Trumpington-James,’ she said haughtily. ‘I took the wrong road to the house.’

‘That way,’ he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. Agatha walked towards the house. She stopped a little way away from the truck and looked back. He was still parked there and watching her in his rear-view mirror. She would need to call on Lucy.

The windows of the house were red in the sunlight, like so many accusing red eyes staring at her.

She rang the bell and the door was immediately opened by Lucy. She was wearing a thick Arran sweater and jeans. Her hair was tied up in a chiffon scarf and her face was clean of makeup, making her look younger and softer.

‘I saw you coming up the drive,’ said Lucy. ‘I could do with an excuse to stop work and have a drink.’

Agatha walked into the hall and looked at the packing cases. ‘Are you leaving already?’

‘I can’t,’ said Lucy. ‘Not with coppers all over the place refusing to let me until the murder is solved.’ She walked into the drawing-room and Agatha followed her. ‘What’ll you have to drink?’

‘Gin and tonic, please.’

‘I don’t have ice.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Agatha. ‘The day’s cold enough.’

Lucy handed her a drink and then poured herself a large brandy. ‘You can smoke if you like,’ said Lucy. ‘I’ve started again.’

‘Great,’ said Agatha, taking out a packet of cigarettes. ‘I just called to see how you were getting on.’

‘Not very well, to tell you the truth. I thought it would all be so simple. Sell up here, get out, move back to London. But the rozzers are hellbent on making sure I had nothing to do with the murder.’

Agatha took a sip of her drink. Then she asked, ‘Why would they think that?’

‘Because I inherit. One detective had the cheek to say it was nearly always the husband or wife. Would you believe it?’ Lucy nervously puffed smoke. ‘It was all settling down nicely and then the fools had to go and shoot Paul.’

‘The fools?’ asked Agatha.

‘Poachers. That’s what I told the police. Paul’s had several of the locals up in court and they don’t forgive easily around here.’

‘Did you know Tolly was having an affair with Lizzie?’ Agatha did not feel any longer that she owed Lizzie any loyalty. Besides, Lizzie had left her husband in a police car complete with suitcases, so she must have told them about the affair, or so Agatha justified it to herself.

‘No, isn’t that a laugh?’ said Lucy bitterly. ‘Lizzie Findlay, of all people, and I’m expected to go on like a nun. I wondered why Tolly had given up sex with me. Now I know. I never thought he was having an affair.’

‘But you did,’ protested Agatha. ‘You asked me to find out.’

‘Oh, that. I thought he’d been with Rosie. Damn, I could just have divorced the old bastard and taken him to the cleaner’s. His sister turned up at the funeral, making a scene.’

‘I didn’t know the funeral had even taken place!’

‘The police kept it quiet and so did I. As fed up with the press as they are. Crematorium in Norwich. Have another drink?’

‘I haven’t quite finished this one.’ Lucy rose and took the glass from Agatha. ‘I’ll freshen this up. I don’t like drinking alone.’

‘Do you think Lizzie’s husband might have murdered your husband?’

Lucy handed Agatha a brimming glass and then topped up her own with more brandy.

She slumped down in her chair again. ‘Who cares?’ she said wearily, her voice now slightly slurred. Agatha guessed that despite Lucy’s protestations that she did not like to drink alone, she had been doing just that.

‘But don’t you want to find out who killed him?’

‘I s’pose. It would mean I could get the hell out of here.’

‘Didn’t you love your husband?’

‘I thought I did. I was looking for money and security, and believe it or not, children. But Tolly can’t make children, or so it turned out, and Tolly turned out to be a bore when we got down here and he decided his role in life was to be the squire of Fryfam. His name’s Terence and he was Terry in London. But down here, he decided to be Tolly to fit in with all the tightarses in the hunt and their stupid nicknames. I think that lot never grew out of the nursery.’

Agatha’s drink was very strong. ‘How long will it be before you can sell the house?’

‘Oh, God, I don’t know. I hope it’s not too long. Christ, it takes a mint to run this place. Another week and I’m going to sell off the livestock. We’ve got sheep and cows. I’ve already rented out the shoot. Surely they can’t stop me doing that.’

‘Fryfam’s an odd little place,’ said Agatha. ‘I mean, first the fairies, then the murders, all these passions lying just underneath the surface.’

Lucy grinned. ‘Talking about passion, how’s the delicious Charles?’

‘As usual. Just a friend.’

‘Might try my luck there. Is he rich?’

‘I believe so, but he’s the sort of man who conveniently forgets his wallet when it’s time to pay the bill in a restaurant.’

‘Then why do you put up with him?’

‘Because I’m not dependent on him.’

‘Oh, and are you two detecting?’

‘We’re trying.’

‘Getting anywhere?’

‘I’ve a feeling we’re nearly there. All sorts of threads being drawn together,’ said Agatha sententiously. The drink
was
strong. ‘I think Paul Redfern knew something and I think he was going to tell the police if he didn’t get paid.’

‘I’d better get on,’ said Lucy, draining her glass and putting it down.

Agatha left the remains of her own drink and got to her feet. She realized she hadn’t taken off her coat and yet had not felt too warm.

‘Central heating broken down?’ she asked.

‘Air in the pipes or something. I’ll get someone in tomorrow.’

Agatha walked into the hall. ‘Well, goodbye, Lucy,’ she said.

‘Just don’t go around sticking your nose into things or you could get hurt,’ said Lucy.

Agatha paused with her hand on the doorknob. ‘That a threat?’

‘You’re the sort that sees villains under the bed. Only a friendly warning.’

Agatha left and walked down the long drive. She took a deep breath of air to clear her head. She went over everything Lucy had said. There wasn’t much. But had she really meant poachers when she said the fools had killed Paul? Why would a townie like Lucy think of poachers? Large-scale poachers could be violent. That much she knew from the newspapers. The sort of poachers who dynamited salmon pools. But the sort who snared rabbits, maybe caught the occasional pheasant? Hardly.

She would discuss it with Charles. She wondered whether he had found out anything.

She felt suddenly hungry. The effect of the strong drinks was wearing off.

Agatha reached her cottage at last, took out her massive door key, and put it in the lock. The door was unlocked. Charles must be home. She walked in and called out, ‘I’m back.’ She saw two packets with bolts still on the table in the hall. ‘I see you haven’t fixed those bolts yet,’ she shouted. ‘Did you get anything out of Rosie? Was Lucy having an affair?’

Her two cats came up to her, their fur erect on their backs. She stooped down and patted them. ‘There, now,’ she crooned. ‘What’s frightened you? Where’s Charles?’

And then she felt something hard shoved into her back and a man’s voice said, ‘Into the sitting-room, Mrs Raisin.’

Agatha twisted around. Barry Jones was standing there holding a shotgun.

She walked into the sitting-room, her frightened mind racing. Mrs Jackson was in a chair by the fireplace. ‘Sit down and shut up,’ she said.

‘You!’ Agatha sat down in the chair opposite.

Barry Jones stood behind the sofa, the shotgun levelled at Agatha.

‘We’re waiting for your friend,’ said Mrs Jackson.

‘Why?’ demanded Agatha through white lips.

‘You’ll see.’

‘Lucy said the fools murdered Paul. That was you and your son.’

‘She phoned and told us she thought you were beginning to figure it out.’

Agatha looked at Barry Jones, handsome Barry Jones, although he did not look handsome at that moment, with his eyes as hard as stones.

‘You can’t murder me and Charles,’ said Agatha. ‘You may think you can get away with two murders. But four!’

‘There won’t be any evidence,’ said Mrs Jackson. ‘You’ll just disappear, then we’ll pack your stuff and bury it.’

Agatha had a sudden desperate desire to pee. But she would not mess herself in front of these killers. She tried to forget the peril she was in and concentrate on why they had done it.

She looked again at Barry Jones, handsome Barry Jones who didn’t have the money to support a woman with expensive tastes like Lucy. Unless . . .

She looked at him. ‘I think you were having an affair with Lucy. I think she got you to kill Tolly. Wait a bit. You, Betty Jackson, told her about that will. So she stole the Stubbs and gave it to one of you to hide. Then what? A row with Tolly? Going to change his will again and leave everything to Lizzie? Or had he found out about Lucy and Barry? Anyway, Barry here slits his throat while Lucy goes to London to get an alibi. But why then dump the Stubbs on me? If you had burnt it, say, she would have got the insurance money.’

‘No harm in you knowing,’ said Mrs Jackson. ‘Lucy thought if we dumped it on you, police attention would switch to you and Lizzie. She said it was worth it. She said she’d get enough from selling the estate.’

‘You think you’ve been very clever,’ said Agatha, ‘but you can’t get away with making the pair of us disappear, as you put it. Charles is a baronet and the newspapers will have a field day. The case will go on and on. Lucy will have to wait a hell of a long time for her money, which means you will, too. And you’ve been silly. What made you think I knew anything?’

‘Lucy phoned us and said you’d figured out Paul was blackmailing us and she said you would soon work it all out and tell the police.’

Agatha heard the cats patter into the hall, heard them purring and mewing. That’ll be Charles, she thought. If only I could warn him. But then the cats fell silent.

Agatha clasped her hands tightly together to stop their trembling. They were going to kill her. Was there any way she could make a dash for it?

She got to her feet. ‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom.’

‘Sit down!’ barked Mrs Jackson. ‘The only place you’re going is the grave.’

‘You can’t shoot both of us,’ pleaded Agatha. ‘The blast of the shotgun will be heard.’

‘Who by?’ asked Barry Jones with a grin. ‘You’re at the end of the lane. Nothing nearby except the church.’

Agatha closed her eyes and prayed. Fright had made her deaf. She could only hear a roaring in her ears. Get me out of this and I’ll give up smoking and I’ll be a nicer person and I’ll do good works. I know I haven’t been very nice in the past, O Lord, but just get me out of this one and I’ll be a saint. She suddenly knew she was going to pee herself and let out a low groan and opened her eyes. Then she blinked and stared again at the tableau in front of her.

The sitting-room was full of policemen. Barry Jones slowly dropped the shotgun on to the sofa. Detective Chief Inspector Hand stepped to the front as Jones and his mother were handcuffed.

‘Where are you going, Mrs Raisin?’ he shouted as Agatha began to frantically push her way through to the door of the sitting-room.

‘The bathroom!’ shouted Agatha and fled up the stairs.

At two o’clock the following morning, Charles and Agatha returned from police headquarters. ‘So that’s that,’ said Charles, walking into the sitting-room and beginning to put fire-lighters and logs on the fire. ‘I couldn’t believe it. You’d left the door open. I knew something was up because the cats’ fur was standing on end. I backed out and took a peek into the sitting-room. I knew Hand and the police were at the pub, and we all came round.’

‘Yes, you’ve told me all that, but you haven’t told me why Rosie should tell you that she knew Lucy and Barry were having an affair, that she’d once spotted them out in the woods. Why tell you when she hadn’t told the police?’

‘We got friendly,’ said Charles, his back to Agatha as he struck a match and lit the fire.

‘Pillow talk?’

‘You could say that.’

‘You are amoral,’ said Agatha.

‘Come on, Agatha. I sussed she must know something. You didn’t think I was going to clear off for Christmas and leave you here on your own? I did it for you.’

‘The next thing is you’ll be saying you did it for England!’

‘That, too. Don’t get mad at me, Aggie. Just think. The minute she told me about Barry Jones, I called on the police at the pub. Rosie was furious with me. She tried to claw my eyes out and called me a bastard.’

Agatha sat down and put her hands out to the blaze. ‘But you weren’t even going to wait to tell me first. You wanted all the glory for yourself.’

‘I didn’t know where you were. I came back looking for you.’

‘I don’t think I really know you, Charles.’

‘Who ever knows anyone?’ he said lightly. ‘It’s all solved. Just the way you told the police. So the glory is yours. Lucy worked Barry up to murdering Tolly. You’re tired. Let’s go to bed. You’ve had a bad fright.’

Tired as she was, Agatha lay awake for quite a long time. James. Her mind was full of James Lacey again. He was a strong man, not a lightweight philanderer like Charles, thought Agatha, forgetting that James was just as capable of philandering as Charles. She could see James in her mind’s eye – his strong face, his bright blue eyes, his tall rangy figure, his thick black hair going grey at the sides. She was suddenly desperate to get back to Carsely, to get him out of the clutches of the mysterious Mrs Sheppard.

She was awakened at nine o’clock the following morning by Charles, shouting to her that a police car had arrived to take them to headquarters to make more statements. She hurriedly washed and dressed and went downstairs to join him, grumbling, ‘I feel I talked to them all of last night.’

Agatha was interviewed by Detective Chief Inspector Hand. He took her all through the events of the previous day again. Then he said, ‘You are lucky Sir Charles had the good sense to contact us. You put yourself at grave risk by keeping information to yourself.’

‘I didn’t
know
anything!’ howled Agatha. ‘How could I tell you when I didn’t know?’