Agatha Raisin: As The Pig Turns (20 page)

‘Good,’ said Terry. ‘We can have a bit o’ fun.’

‘Oh, go on! You are a one, ain’t you? Just you be keeping your hands to yourself.’

Halfway through the journey, Terry complained, ‘This is the least scariest place I’ve ever been in. Nothing but screeches and bits o’ painted plastic.’

The chair lurched to a halt. The chair holding Simon tipped forward and his body landed on top of them. Patsy screamed and screamed, ‘Get him offa me!’

‘Better not. Get him out o’ here,’ said Terry. ‘He’s fainted or something.’

The car lurched out into the garish light of the fairground.

‘Hey What’s all this, then?’ demanded the attendant.

‘He fell out on us,’ said Terry.

‘Oh, God, he’s bleeding all over my new dress!’ screamed Patsy, and went into strong hysterics.

An ambulance was called, the police were called, and Simon, fluttering between life and death, was rushed to hospital.

Chapter Twelve

Toni was just about to leave her flat when she was confronted by Alice Peterson. ‘You’re to come with me to headquarters,’ she said. ‘Get in the
car.’

‘What’s up?’ asked Toni.

‘You’ll find out when we get there,’ was all Alice would say.

‘I thought it was only on TV that detectives refused to answer questions. Is Agatha all right and everyone at the agency?’

‘Yes.’

‘And James and Charles?’

‘Yes.’

Toni worried and worried until she was at last in an interviewing room faced by Wilkes, Bill Wong and a policeman standing guard by the door.

Wilkes started the tape and then began. ‘Simon Black is in hospital in intensive care.’

‘What happened?’

‘He was employed by Mixden’s detective agency. We got a warrant to search his flat, and there on his computer was a full report of everything you had told him about Mrs
Raisin’s suspicions that the murderer might be some policeman. The report was ready to be sent to Mixden.’

‘I once applied for a job there,’ said Toni, ‘but Mixden wanted me to spy on Agatha’s agency for him. Oh, what on earth has Simon been up to? Will he live? Was he
shot?’

‘No, he was stabbed at the fairground and left to die inside the Haunted House. If he hadn’t fallen forward across a couple, he would be dead by now. He lost a lot of blood. But the
stab wound appears to have missed anything vital. We are waiting for him to come round.’

‘He told me he was unemployed!’ said Toni, tears standing out in her eyes. ‘I’ve been such a fool.’

‘In your discussions, did he name anyone he suspected?’

‘No. I would have told Agatha.’

The questioning went on. Bill was sorry for Toni. Wilkes all but accused her of having an affair with Simon. Bill often wondered how pretty Toni could manage to maintain her air of innocence,
considering the work she did and the things she had seen. He wondered if she was still a virgin. Maybe there were some left in this wicked day and age.

Toni was finally read out a statement and asked to sign it.

When she had left, Bill said, ‘You were a bit hard on her, sir.’

‘I am sick and tired of Agatha Raisin and her employees interfering with police work,’ said Wilkes.

‘But it looks as if Mrs Raisin’s seemingly mad leap of intuition is going to be proved right.’

‘Who was on holiday at the time Chelsea was taken in Las Vegas?’

‘Just . . . Oh, what is it?’

The policeman at the door who had been talking to someone outside said urgently, ‘I think you’d better hear this, sir. There’s a chap out in reception.’

‘Better be good,’ snarled Wilkes. Both he and Bill were suffering from lack of sleep.

Wilfred Butterfield rose to meet them as they walked into the reception area. He burst out with ‘As soon as I saw his photo on the telly, I knew it was my duty to come forward.’

‘Do you mean Simon Black?’

‘Yes, he called at our showroom in Birmingham. He said he worked for the Agatha Raisin Detective Agency. He showed me his card.’

‘And you are . . . ?’

‘Wilfred Butterfield. Car salesman at Class Cars.’

‘You’d better come with us and make a statement.’

In the interview room so recently vacated by Toni, Wilfred poured out his story, omitting any mention of the money Simon had given him.

When he had finished, Wilkes said, ‘Now let’s get this straight. The man you described to Simon was thickset and had a Scottish accent.’

‘Yes.’

There’s only one here answers to that description, thought Wilkes, and that’s Sergeant Tulloch. ‘Oh, now what is it?’

He left the room and came back, his face grimmer than ever. ‘Detective Sergeant Wong will get you to sign a statement. Thank you for coming forward. Please keep this information from the
press.’

Followed by Wilfred’s fervent assurances, he left the room.

He was met by the desk policeman who had been on duty the night before. He listened to the tale of how Simon had asked for Bill Wong. Had been told he was out and had then said he would wait.
Simon had studied the police photographs and then had pointed to one and asked if that was Henry James. The policeman had said it was Sergeant Tulloch and Simon had decided not to wait.

A search started for Tulloch. They were told it was his day off. Armed with a warrant, Bill, Wilkes, Alice and a squad of policemen descended on Tulloch’s flat. There was no answer. Wilkes
nodded and stood aside while the door was rammed open.

The small flat was empty. Wilkes put a call out for all airports and train stations to be watched along with the licence plate of Tulloch’s bike. He then waited out in the car while a team
from Scenes of Crimes Operatives arrived to search the flat.

Toni went straight to the hospital as soon as she left police headquarters. She found Agatha in the waiting room. A little way away from her sat Simon’s parents.

‘I’m sorry, Agatha,’ she whispered.

Agatha shrugged. ‘I’ve already endured a session with the police at dawn. So Simon was prepared to spy on us for Mixden’s? Well. Whatever he found out nearly killed him. What a
waste of a bright young man. Don’t blame yourself, Toni. That one could have fooled me as well. Oh, here comes the surgeon.’

They watched anxiously and then saw smiles of relief on Simon’s parents’ faces. Wilkes and another detective they did not recognize arrived.

‘You pair,’ said Wilkes. ‘There’s no use waiting. Police and family only.’

‘I know. Let’s phone Patrick,’ said Agatha. ‘I bet he’s learned something.’

They went to a café across the road where there were tables outside. Agatha ordered coffees for both of them, lit a cigarette and phoned Patrick.

Toni waited impatiently until Agatha had rung off. ‘The culprit appears to be a Sergeant Billy Tulloch. Either he was working with Beech or he took over when Beech left off. But he was
working for someone or some gang. I hate being outside it all. There’s nothing we can do but wait. For some reason, Simon visited a car salesroom in Birmingham and found out that someone of
Tulloch’s description had been asking about posh cars. Patrick says Staikov’s place has been thoroughly checked and all his trucks as well. There’s nothing more we can do today,
and I need some sleep. I think you should stay with me tonight, Toni. My place is well guarded.’

Toni hesitated only a moment. She thought of poor Simon, left to die in that horrible way. ‘Yes, thanks. I’ll go home and pack a bag.’

Toni was relieved to find Charles waiting outside Agatha’s cottage in his car. She found undiluted Agatha rather overwhelming.

Over coffees, Charles listened to all the latest news. ‘I wonder what took Simon to that car showroom,’ said Charles. ‘Do you think Mixden knows more than he ought?’

‘I think it was a leap of intuition,’ said Toni. ‘He probably tried to figure out what a copper with a lot of money that he couldn’t splash about would think of doing
with it.’

‘Patrick says that Tulloch wasn’t due any holiday, just a few days off. That’s probably why he went to Las Vegas.’

‘We’ve been concentrating on Staikov because his father is Bulgarian,’ said Agatha. ‘But what other firm has trucks going abroad?’

‘Richards!’ said Toni.

‘He’s stocking cheap leather jackets. He didn’t need to get them from Staikov. I’m sure his trucks go abroad for fruit and veg as well. There are always protests in the
local papers about supermarkets stocking foreign produce and ignoring the homegrown stuff.’

There was a ring at the doorbell. ‘I’ll go,’ said Charles. He looked through the spy hole. ‘It’s Wilkes.’

‘Let him in,’ groaned Agatha. ‘What’s happened now?’

But Wilkes had come to deliver a lecture. He believed in solid police procedure and felt Agatha’s and Simon’s wild flights of intuition were somehow cluttering up the investigation.
In vain did Agatha point out that if it hadn’t been for Simon, they would never have found out about Tulloch. She was told firmly that from now on, she and her staff were to leave matters
strictly to the police.

When he had gone, Toni said, ‘We should have told him about our suspicions of Richards.’

‘I tell you what,’ said Agatha angrily, ‘I’m tired of that pompous twat treating me like a schoolgirl. I’ll show him.’

‘How?’ asked Charles.

‘We’ll all go to bed and have a good rest, and then we’ll follow one of Richards’ trucks and see where it goes.’

‘I’ll see if James is at home,’ said Charles. ‘He’s more of the derring-do type than I am.’

But Charles returned shortly to say that James was not at home. ‘Oh, well,’ he said reluctantly, ‘I’d better go with you. If I were you, Agatha, I’d phone up Doris
and ask her to come and collect your cats.’

‘Why?’

‘I think what you are proposing is dangerous. Anyone who could employ a vicious psycho like Tulloch might make sure you don’t stay alive.’

They decided to tail one of the trucks during daylight, when there would be plenty of traffic on the road.

Agatha had recently bought a Mercedes, and they elected to use that, as Charles had a penchant for buying the cheapest secondhand car he could find.

They waited outside Richards Supermarket until they saw one of his large trucks move out. Charles was driving the Mercedes.

‘If it’s going to call in at local farms to pick up milk and stuff, we’ll have wasted a day,’ he said.

But the truck rolled steadily southward. ‘He’s taking the Dover road,’ said Agatha excitedly. ‘If they take the ferry, we’d better stay in the car.’

But before Dover, the truck swung off the main road. ‘The traffic’s thinner here,’ said Charles. ‘I’d better hang back a bit. We’re right in the open
countryside. Look, they’re pulling into that lay-by. I’d better go on past, park somewhere and walk back and try to spy out what they’re doing.’

He drove on and parked up a farm track under a stand of trees. ‘There was a hedge opposite that lay-by,’ he said. ‘If we cross over into that field opposite and make our way
back, we should be able to see what’s going on.’

Soon they were huddled behind the hedge. Several very tough-looking men had descended from the truck and were sitting beside the road, drinking coffee out of flasks and eating sandwiches.
Agatha’s stomach gave such a loud rumble, she was frightened they would hear it.

The day dragged on. The driver then got into the cab, but instead of starting up the engine, he settled himself down to sleep. The others climbed into the back of the truck, and then all was
silence.

‘There must be something up,’ whispered Toni. ‘I mean, what are they waiting for?’

The sun finally descended slowly down the sky. Charles was asleep, and Toni felt her eyes drooping. Only Agatha, smarting over Wilkes’s lecture, kept her eyes fastened avidly on the
truck.

At last she nudged Charles awake. ‘I can hear a car coming,’ she whispered. ‘Keep down!’

Headlights cut through the night. A car came to a halt. A man got out and banged on the doors of the truck.

‘Who is it?’ asked Toni.

The man moved into the headlights of his car. ‘It’s Richards,’ said Agatha excitedly.

Tom Richards spoke to the driver. The truck moved off slowly. Richards got into his car and followed.

‘Let them get away and we’ll try to catch up with them,’ said Charles. ‘I’ll need to drive without the headlights on in case they see us.’

As they drove off as slowly and quietly as they could, Agatha muttered, ‘Can’t you go any faster? They could be anywhere.’

‘They might stop suddenly and hear our engine,’ said Charles. ‘Look, I can see their lights in the distance. They’ve gone up that country lane. I’ll follow as far
as I dare.’

A large barn loomed up against the night sky and the truck, and Richards stopped outside it.

‘Agatha,’ said Charles, ‘before we go any further, wouldn’t it be an idea to phone the police? These are stone hard killers and psychos. Think what they did to
Beech.’

‘Just a look,’ pleaded Agatha, ‘and then we’ll phone if there’s anything.’

They got out of the car and made their way silently towards the barn. Agatha suddenly stopped in her tracks. ‘I’ve got to pee.’

‘Then pee and follow us,’ said Charles crossly. ‘Couldn’t you have gone all that time we were waiting behind that bloody hedge? Oh, go on.’

‘Wait for me,’ pleaded Agatha.

‘I’m bored,’ said Charles. ‘I’m going to take one look and then we’re off.’

He and Toni crept forward, dropping down on to the grass and wriggling forward. The barn doors were open and light was streaming out.

Charles managed to get one look inside. ‘It’s a lab,’ he whispered. ‘They must be making drugs.’

And then he and Toni were seized. Toni let out a scream. Agatha, hitching up her knickers, turned and ran back to the car. She desperately phoned the police, babbling instructions.

‘How did you find us?’ Richards was demanding as Toni and Charles were held captive by three men.

‘Won’t answer, eh? Boris, get the acetylene torch and scorch that pretty face. She’ll tell us soon enough.’

‘It was my idea,’ said Charles. ‘The police know nothing about it.’

‘Well, you’re going to find out what happens to snoops. Burn her face off, Boris.’ Charles tried to tear himself free but was held firm.