Pushing Up Daisies (16 page)

“Bertha is in a storage unit,” said Agatha. “Your marrow was not cut up. Would you like to come with us now? I think the police will still be at the storage unit, and you can see your marrow.”

At the storage unit, Wilkes swung round in a fury as Harry rushed in and knelt down beside his marrow.

“What the hell are you doing here with that man?” shouted Wilkes.

“He wants to say goodbye to his marrow before he tells you how he murdered Peta Currie. I have his confession on tape,” said Agatha. She felt it should be her moment of glory, but somehow Charles's angry face kept rising up in her mind.

It was a long night of interviews. At last, Jake and Agatha were free to leave. At Agatha's cottage, Jake said, “Mind if I stay? I'm exhausted.”

“Charles has gone, so you can have the spare room.”

Agatha petted her cats and went wearily up to bed as an angry red dawn was shining in the windows. She showered and climbed into bed—and found Jake already there.

“Lost your way?” demanded Agatha.

He gathered her in his arms and began to kiss her with single-minded intensity, and Agatha went down under him in a red sea of passion.

*   *   *

Toni said to Simon as they met in the office in the morning, “I got a text from Agatha. It seems she and Jake discovered Harry Perry to be the murderer of Peta. I wonder if she'll come in today.”

“Probably our young friend has got his leg over by now.”

“You have to be joking. She's old enough to be his mother.”

“Yes, but he fancies her rotten. Saw it coming a mile off.”

“I won't believe it,” said Toni.

Agatha awoke the next morning with an anxious feeling that she had done something she really shouldn't have done. Memory came flooding back. Jake! There was no one in the bed next to her.

How could she have been so stupid? Oh God. Had Charles seen it coming? Agatha crawled out of bed and showered and dressed before going downstairs. Doris Simpson handed her a cup of coffee. “That young fellow said he would see you in the office.”

“Yes, thanks,” said Agatha. “Forgot something.”

She sprinted up the stairs to her bedroom and stripped the sheets off the bed, ran back downstairs and stuffed them in the washing machine.

“I would have done that,” said Doris.

“It's all right,” said Agatha, switching on the washing machine.

“You forgot the soap powder,” said Doris.

“Sod the soap powder,” yelled Agatha. Immediately she followed it up with, “I'm sorry, Doris. Have just made a big mistake.”

“Sit down, Agatha, love,” said Doris. “He's a gorgeous-looking young man.”

“It's not that,” wailed Agatha. “He's on my staff. I can't bear the thought of having an affair with someone that people will mistake for my son. I can't bear the thought of all the maintenance and fear of wrinkles.”

“Well, you have a talk to him. But he must have really wanted you. I mean a chap like that could get any girl he wanted.”

The doorbell rang. “I'll get it,” said Doris. She came back after a few moments. “It's the press.”

Agatha sighed and got to her feet. “I'd better give them a statement. I've an agency to run, and it pays to advertise.”

There was a great deal of press interest. A murder in a village was not great news. A murder over a giant marrow called Bertha, on the other hand, warranted the front page.

Agatha forced herself to mention Jake, but she was dreading seeing him again.

All the way into the office, she rehearsed speeches. But it was with a feeling of relief that she found the office empty apart from Mrs. Freedman, the secretary.

“All out of jobs?” she asked.

“Yes. Simon's looking for a lost teenager, Phil and Patrick both have divorce cases and Toni's taken young Jake off on a supermarket theft. Pleased as anything today is Jake. Thinks he fancies Toni. They make a handsome couple. I look at them and wish I were young again. Don't you feel that, Agatha?”

“No, I feel like work,” said Agatha. “Tell everyone I've gone back to Harby. Now that Peta's murder is out of the way, I can concentrate of what we're being paid for.”

It was a sunny day. The countryside had turned into a sort of jewel box as the autumn leaves blazed in ruby, gold, silver and purple beside the road. But blind to all the beauty was Agatha Raisin. It wasn't the inner child she suffered from, she thought gloomily. It was that nagging inner governess. “How could you have been so stupid as to go to bed with that young man? Grow up. Act your age.” She felt as if she had overindulged in chocolate or booze. She hoped Charles never found out. Then she gave herself a mental shake. Charles was a friend, that was all. But she seemed to see his accusing face in her inner mind. She wrenched her mind away from Jake. What had happened to Gerald Devere? She hadn't seen him around. The case should now be less complicated with Peta's murder being solved, but it could still have something to do with one of the allotment holders, furious that Bellington had meant to build houses on their land. That business with the diamonds in the furniture had nothing to do with Bellington. But it had landed her with Jake. Agatha winced.

As she turned into the drive at Harby Hall and waved to the lodge keeper, she realised that she did not have any reason to call. She parked in front of the main entrance, switched off the engine and rested her hands on the wheel. Agatha had not seen her friend, Mrs. Bloxby, for some time. She suddenly hoped that Mrs. Bloxby had got over her infatuation for Gerald. And thinking of infatuation, she thought grimly, I'd better let young Jake down gently.

Jake and Toni had enjoyed a successful morning at a large supermarket. They had been blaming loss of profits on shoplifters, but Toni and Jake, while pretending to be shelf stackers, had found that five members of the staff were blatantly stealing goods and using one of the supermarket's vans to cart the stuff away. Most of the stolen stuff was electrical: microwaves, vacuums, television sets and so on. Toni and Jake had filmed the thieves, Jake being amazed that the thieving was so blatant. The management called the police, the culprits were arrested and Toni and Jake left with praise ringing in their ears.

“I think this calls for a drink,” said Jake.

Toni smiled. “Just this once.”

They went into the nearest pub. Toni ordered a vodka and tonic and Jake had a half of lager. “I love this detective business,” said Jake happily, “and I love you, Toni.”

“Don't be silly.”

Jake looked dreamily at the blond beauty that was Toni. He had practically forgotten his night with Agatha. That was just one of those things.

“Why don't we go clubbing this evening?”

“Because I've got a date,” said Toni.

“Who with? Simon?”

“Mind your own business.”

*   *   *

Agatha got out of the car. All she could do was tell them about Peta's murderer, study faces, try to pick up vibes and push and prod until something gave way. Andrea answered the door, scowling horribly. “In my opinion, you're a waste of space,” said Andrea by way of a greeting. She turned and hurried off. Agatha shrugged and began to walk along the passage. There was a mirror at the end of it showing her reflection. She had recently lost weight, and her figure in a dark blue cashmere trouser suit was trim. Sun shining in from a high window shone down on her glossy hair. “Not bad,” she said. “Not bad at all.”

“What's not bad?” drawled a light voice behind her, making her jump.

Agatha swung round. “Oh, Damian, I was just thinking that with Peta's murder solved, it should surely make things less complicated.”

“Let's talk.” He pushed open the door of one of the hall's many rooms. This one was full of old hunting boots, crops and a couple of saddles and a child's rocking horse. “I should really get the decorators in,” said Damian, “and throw out half the stuff. I don't hunt, so what's the point of keeping all this rubbish?”

“Get a good antique dealer in to evaluate things before you throw anything away,” said Agatha. “That rocking horse is surely worth a lot.”

“Good advice. Find a seat. Talking of money, are you getting anywhere or am I wasting my poundses on the desert air?”

“No, I'm getting a good idea of what happened,” said Agatha. “I don't want to tell you right now because I may be wrong, and you might unwittingly alert the guilty person.”

“Do you want me to prepare the library?”

“What?”

“Well, you know. You call us all together and lean on the mantle and go through us, accusing us one after the other until you point and say, ‘But it was YOU!'”

Agatha gave a reluctant laugh. “I would like to ask you about Mary Feathers. Allotments seem to bring out the beast in people.”

“Our village siren. I think she's a lesbian.”

“Meaning you tried and couldn't get anywhere.”

“No. From time to time, Mary has the odd waif living with her. Sometimes they are seen hand in hand, which offends the delicate sensibilities of the villagers.”

“I might have a word with her,” said Agatha.

“You do that and hurry up. I am not a bottomless pit of money.”

As Agatha stood outside Mary's cottage, she wondered if Charles had called on the woman for a date. What if Charles ever found out she had been to bed with Jake? Agatha shrugged. It was none of his business. He had made no commitment to her. On the rare occasions he had visited her bed, he had not uttered one word of love. Her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she blinked them away to find the door had quietly opened and Mary was surveying her.

“You could do with a strong cup of tea,” said Mary. “Come in and sit by the fire.”

Weakly, Agatha followed her in. A bright fire was burning on the hearth, and the room smelled of apples and cinnamon. “Sit down, and I'll fetch tea.”

Agatha began to think up excuses, maybe saying something like, “I had some grit in my eye,” but decided just to ignore the whole thing.

Mary came back and placed a side table by Agatha's chair. On it she placed a cup of tea. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Straight up,” said Agatha with a weak smile.

Mary settled herself in an armchair opposite. “You'll be wanting to know if I had any gossip or if I've heard anything. Just speculation, my dear. Now, Mrs. Bull is such an evil gossip, it's a wonder no one's attacked her before this. She put it about that I was seducing innocent young girls. I belong to the Big Sisters Club. We sort of adopt some waif or stray and take them out from time to time. Did I threaten the old bat? Sure I did. Said unless she got her gossip right, I'd hex her. Lot of them think I'm a witch. Feeling better?”

“Yes,” said Agatha. “You surprise me. You were not all that friendly before.”

“Sorry. I get malicious sometimes.”

“Why?”

She stretched and yawned. “Boredom, mostly. So I mix things up. I thought if I could get that Charles of yours interested, it would annoy you.”

“Why?” asked Agatha.

“Jealousy, my love. I'm jealous of women with careers.”

“So did it work?” asked Agatha. “Charles, I mean.”

“He only came back in with that story about having left his wallet to get at you. Don't you pay him enough attention?”

“He's not all that interested in me,” said Agatha, “and he'll be even less interested if he finds out what I've done.”

“And what's that? Can't be nothing too bad.”

Lulled by the warmth of the fire and the caressing voice opposite, Agatha told Mary about her night with Jake.

There was a sudden change of atmosphere in the room, as if the temperature had suddenly dropped. Agatha gave herself a mental shake and rose to her feet. “I'm wasting detecting time, burdening you with my troubles,” she said. “Thank you for the tea. If you hear anything, let me know.”

When she had left, Mary went to her desk and searched through a little pile of cards until she found one marked Charles Fraith. It had his e-mail address on it. Mary switched on her computer and began to type.

*   *   *

Agatha would have been furious if she had known how little her night with Jake had troubled him. Jake was typical of a lot of young men in thinking that middle-aged women should be grateful for a roll in the hay and not expect anything more than a one-night stand. His attention was firmly fixed on Toni. That was love.

But late that afternoon, Charles walked into the office. “Agatha around?” he asked.

“Due back later,” said Toni. “We're just finishing up here.”

“Like to go for a drink, Toni?” asked Jake while Simon glared.

“Shouldn't you wait for Agatha, Jake?” asked Charles in a deceptively quiet voice.

“Don't need to. I've typed out my report. She'll be pleased. Had a successful day.”

“And a successful time last night in her bed, I gather,” said Charles.

Toni looked shocked, and Jake turned deep red. “We were both a bit drunk and … and…”

“Tell her I'll call her later,” said Charles.

After he had left, Toni said, “Agatha is not as tough as she looks. I think you should buy her flowers or something.”

“But, Toni. It didn't mean anything,” wailed Jake.

“Come on, Simon,” said Toni. “Let's go to the pub.”

Agatha arrived back at the office at eight o'clock in the evening. She saw to her surprise that the lights were still on and even more surprised to find Jake sitting at his desk with his head in his hands.

She stopped on the threshold. Jake was really very handsome.

“Waiting for me?” she asked.

“Yes. I've made a mess of everything, and Toni won't look at me,” said Jake bitterly. “Charles is a bastard.”

Agatha sat down slowly. She had sworn off cigarettes that day, but she found herself scrabbling in her handbag for a pack of Bensons and a lighter. She lit a cigarette and studied the trail of smoke rising up to the fluorescent light and said quietly, “What has it to do with Charles?”