Agatha Raisin: Hiss and Hers (16 page)

The door to the inner office opened and a large, florid man breezed through. ‘If it isn't the famous Mrs Raisin,' he cried.

He had a large pear-shaped face and a double-breasted suit draped around his body. He wore rimless glasses behind which a pair of shrewd brown eyes, surveying her warily, belied the smile on his mouth.

‘What can we do for you?'

Agatha opened a carrier bag and took out the listening device and put it on the table. ‘This is yours. It was used to illegally listen in on my conversations.'

‘Nonsense!'

‘I have a sworn statement from Miss Harvey-Booth that her father hired you to spy on me. She was using this device herself.'

‘Silly cow!' Mr Timmons took out a handkerchief and mopped his face.

‘Before I go to the police, have you anything to say?'

‘My dear lady, I am sure we can come to an arrangement.'

‘Bribery as well?'

‘No, no. The detective will be fired immediately. I knew nothing of this.'

‘When it comes to court,' said Agatha, ‘I am sure he will say otherwise.'

Mr Timmons barked at the receptionist. ‘Get Baker in here!'

He turned to Agatha. ‘I am going to fire him in front of you.'

A middle-aged man walked in. He was tall, dressed in a plain dark suit. Agatha thought he had ex-copper written all over him.

‘This is Mrs Agatha Raisin,' said Timmons. ‘You have been using an illegal listening device and you're fired.'

‘It's this office's property,' said Baker in a calm, deep voice. ‘I was using it on your instructions.'

Baker gave his employer a long, hard look. Then he fished a powerful little tape recorder out of his pocket and switched it on. He plugged in an earpiece and listened, and then said, ‘Here it is.' He unplugged the earpiece and amplified the sound.

Mr Timmons's recorded voice suddenly sounded in the room. ‘Look, Baker, we've got an easy one here. This posh geezer, Colonel Harvey-Booth, has a daughter, Petronella, who wants to marry Sir Charles Fraith and wants the lowdown on him. Get the listening device and get what you can.'

‘There's more,' said Baker, searching the tape recorder again. Then his own voice saying, ‘Our client's daughter, Petronella, wants to have a go with the listening device herself. I told her that this Sir Charles Fraith had been spending time at Agatha Raisin's cottage and might be getting his leg over, and she wants to play detective herself.' This was followed by Timmons's recorded voice: ‘Then let her have it. Raisin is a formidable rival and if we can upset her, all to the good. Petronella's dad is paying over the odds and if she wants to do the work herself, let her.'

Baker switched off the recorder. ‘You may go,' said Timmons.

Then he turned to Agatha, and said bleakly, ‘Is there any way I can stop you from going to the police?'

‘Only one way. You close down here and move to another town.'

‘I can't do that!'

‘Either that or I go to the police. You've got two weeks to shut down your operation here. I will come back at the end of two weeks. If you are still here, then I am really going to go to the police.'

He got to his feet and Agatha stood up as well. He loomed over her. ‘I'll get even with you one day, see if I don't.'

Agatha's handbag was open. She took out a small tape recorder, just like the one Baker had used.

‘I have now taped that threat of yours. Dear me, you're not much of a detective, are you?'

Agatha popped the tape recorder back into her handbag and zipped it up.

‘Bye,' she said cheerfully.

Timmons stood rigid, his hands clenched into fists as he watched her go.

* * *

Agatha went to the office. She was suddenly weary of trying to find out who had murdered George. There was other work to be done.

Mrs Freedman said everyone was out on other jobs and handed Agatha a list.

‘Fine,' said Agatha, scanning it, ‘except for Simon. Is he still in hospital?'

‘No, he's out. He phoned in. He said he was going back to Carsely to see if he could find out who put that snake down his back.'

‘Snakes and bastards!' howled Agatha. ‘He'll get himself killed. Wasn't one attempt on his life enough for him?'

‘It can't really be described as an attempt on his life,' said Mrs Freedman pedantically. ‘I mean, anyone bitten knows to go straight to hospital.'

‘I'm going over to Carsely to get him out of there,' said Agatha.

‘Don't you think you might be at risk yourself?'

‘It's different. I can't avoid the place. I live there.'

‘Come to think of it,' said Mrs Freedman, ‘he should be all right. I mean, the case is closed, isn't it?'

The slamming of the office door was her only answer.

Simon had hoped to find Jessica at home. He had dreamt of her since that first meeting. Although he had never previously watched any of the soaps, he had bought a boxed set of
Emergency Tonight
, the series in which Jessica starred. But Jessica was not at home.

He stood outside her house, irresolute, wondering what to do. He knew she only visited the cottage at weekends, but he had hoped against hope that she might have made a flying visit.

Simon knew he was supposed to be out around Mircester looking for a missing cat, Agatha having again given him the bread-and-butter jobs of the agency. Before he had gone to Carsely, he had checked at the Mircester Animal Rescue Centre, hoping to find the cat easily. It was a Siamese. But no Siamese cats at all had been handed in.

The day was still and warm. There was a hosepipe ban and flowers in the cottage gardens drooped in the heat.

He knew Agatha was disappointed in him. Even before the snake attack, he had been outclassed by Toni.

He now wondered what he had ever seen in her. Her blonde beauty faded before Jessica's vibrant loveliness. Such was his obsession that he found himself reluctant to leave Carsely.

He decided to go to the pub for a cold beer and was just heading in that direction when he looked up the hill and recognized Agatha's car speeding down towards the village.

Simon drove off out of the village by the alternative route and went back to Mircester. He parked in the main square, took out a photo of the missing cat and gloomily surveyed it. Then he had a bright idea. Surely one Siamese cat looked just like another. Simon came from a wealthy family and was never short of funds. He let in the clutch and drove to the nearest pet shop. Yes, they had a fine Siamese. ‘The one in your photo is a lilac point,' said the salesman, ‘and I have one just like it.'

‘How much?' asked Simon.

‘It's one of the rarer breeds. The cost is four hundred pounds.'

Simon hesitated only a moment. ‘I'll take it,' he said. He had a cat box in the car, which he kept for recovering lost cats. He went out of the shop and got it, paid with his credit card, and set off for the residence of a Mrs Finney, who had asked them to find the missing animal.

Agatha arrived back in her office, hot and cross. Toni was typing up a report at her computer. ‘Drop what you're doing,' said Agatha, ‘and get down to Animal Rescue and see if anyone's handed in a Siamese cat.'

‘Isn't Simon on that one?'

‘For some reason he went back to Carsely but I couldn't find him. Mrs Finney keeps phoning.' Agatha searched through the filing cabinet. ‘She gave us a lot of photos. Here's one. And ask if Simon even visited the rescue centre.'

At the rescue centre, Toni was told she was in luck. A lilac point Siamese cat had just been handed in. Toni put the cat in a cat carrier and headed off for Mrs Finney's home.

The first sound that met Toni's ears as Mrs Finney opened the door was the unmistakable wail of a Siamese.

‘We've found your cat,' said Toni.

‘But your colleague has just been here to give me back my cat,' exclaimed Mrs Finney.

‘So this is not your cat?'

Mrs Finney peered into the cat box. ‘How odd. She looks just like Bung Ho.'

‘Bung Ho?'

‘A joke of my husband's and the name stuck.'

‘And you're sure you've got the right cat?'

‘I know. I got Bung Ho microchipped. Come in and I'll check.'

Once inside, Mrs Finney prodded round the neck of the cat Simon had given her. ‘That's odd,' she said. ‘No microchip. Let's have a look at the one you've got. Where did you find it?'

‘Someone handed it in to the Animal Rescue Centre.'

Mrs Finney tenderly lifted out the cat that Toni had brought. ‘This one has a microchip,' she said. ‘Oh, and here's one little black dot behind the left ear. Good heavens! This is Bung Ho. What do I do with the other one?'

‘Do you mind keeping it for the moment?' asked Toni. ‘I've got to check where it came from.'

* * *

She stood outside the house, thinking hard. Simon had money and Simon detested being demoted to looking for lost animals. Toni drove to the pet shop in Mircester.

Before going into the shop, she flicked through her camera until she found a group photo of the detective agency's staff. Then she went in. She showed the salesman the photograph, pointing to Simon. ‘Did he come in here recently and buy a cat?' she asked.

‘Oh, yes. He bought a lilac point. Lovely beast.'

‘Thank you. That's all I want to know.'

‘Is anything wrong?'

‘Nothing at all,' said Toni.

She drove back to Mrs Finney's home. ‘I wonder if you would mind keeping the extra cat,' she said. ‘Animal Rescue really likes to find good homes for their animals.'

‘I'd love to keep it. But it's very expensive. Shouldn't I pay them something?'

‘Oh, no. They'll just be glad the cat's found a good home.'

With Mrs Finney's thanks ringing in her ears, Toni made her way back to the office.

‘Well?' demanded Agatha.

‘Simon found the cat and returned it,' said Toni.

‘Thank goodness for that.'

Simon came in. ‘I'm glad you found that cat,' said Agatha, ‘but there is other work here. Do not go off to Carsely again without telling me. I'll find you something else in the morning.'

‘Great!' said Simon.

‘I'm leaving as well,' said Toni. ‘Wait for me, Simon.'

‘We have to talk,' said Toni. ‘What the hell were you about buying an expensive cat? I found the real one and took it back.'

‘Oh, God,' said Simon. ‘Agatha'll be furious.'

‘I didn't tell her. The real cat had just been handed in at the centre. I told Mrs Finney she could keep your cat as well. What on earth are you playing at?'

‘Come for a drink,' said Simon, ‘and I'll tell you.'

Simon was longing for an excuse – any excuse – to talk about his idol. Toni listened with all the growing irritation of any woman listening to a young man lauding the beauties of another female.

When he had finally finished, Toni said, ‘Look, if this goes on, you'll find yourself out of a job. Your heroine is one of the suspects – that is, if Agatha is right and the Frasers aren't murderers.'

‘Don't be silly. She's got cast-iron alibis. You're jealous!'

‘Spare me,' said Toni. ‘Your vanity is getting the better of you. Okay, if you want to shine in her eyes, why not try to be the detective who broke the case?'

Simon's odd, sometimes clownlike face lit up as he saw in his mind's eye himself standing beside Jessica, in front of the press, describing how he had found the real murderer.

‘That's a great idea,' he said. ‘I'll get on it right away.'

‘No, you won't,' exclaimed Toni. ‘Do your work for Agatha or you won't have a job. If you must ferret around, do it in your own time.'

Agatha Raisin drove home under a lowering sky. It looked as if the suffocating weather was about to break at last. She longed for a dramatic thunderstorm to match her racing mind. Somehow, she could feel in her very bones that the threat had not left Carsely although everyone she had talked to seemed to believe the danger was over. And the better-off villagers liked the idea of some criminal lowlifes from the estate being the villains.

Something told her Mrs Glossop knew something. And what about the battered Mrs Freemantle? Her husband was vicious enough.

She thought about the listening device in the office safe. It was tempting to think of using it. But listening illegally to people's private conversations was a dirty game.

As she drove down into Carsely, she could almost sense the overarching trees waiting for rain. There was a breathless stillness about the countryside. Agatha let herself into her cottage and patted her cats. She was just cooking liver for them when she realized she had never found out who inherited George's money. ‘What kind of detective am I?' she said to her indifferent cats.

When the liver was cooked, she set it aside to cool and phoned George's sister, Janet Ilston.

‘What do you want?' demanded Janet.

‘Who did George leave everything to?' asked Agatha.

‘I don't know why you are still asking questions. I'm contesting his will. He left everything, including his cottage, to some female called Harriet Glossop.'

‘When did you find this out?' demanded Agatha.

‘Yesterday.'

‘Why did you only find this out now?'

‘An old army friend of his just back from Afghanistan turned up with the will. He had met George when he was last on leave and for some reason George gave him the will for safekeeping. It is one of those do-it-yourself wills you get from W. H. Smith.'

‘What is the name of this friend?'

‘I don't see what it has to do with you.'

‘Because I think George may not have been murdered by the Frasers.'

There was a long silence. ‘Hello, hello!' said Agatha.