Agatha Raisin: As the Pig Turns ar-22 Read online

  All that appeared on television that day and in the newspapers on the following day was that a man had been arrested and charged with the attempted murder of Simon Black.

  But it couldn’t be kept quiet. A male nurse told his friend about Agatha hiding in the bathroom and braining Tulloch with a bedpan, so the gossip swirled round and on to the reporting desks of the local newspapers.

  Stories about Agatha began to appear in the press. She diplomatically replied that she could not say anything until after the court case.

  Five days after her adventure, Bill Wong came to tell her that Tulloch was suing her for grievous bodily harm. ‘He can’t do that!’ wailed Agatha.

  ‘Get yourself a lawyer. He won’t get away with it, but we have to go through the motions, not to mention the miles and miles of paperwork. How are you feeling?’

  ‘Relieved. I can get my old life back. Work has been suffering because of all this Tulloch business.’

  ‘Where’s Charles?’

  ‘I thought he would be round, but I haven’t heard from him. Roy is due to arrive. He feels he’s missing out on a bit of free publicity. What about you and Alice?’

  Bill actually blushed. ‘They don’t like staff getting together. I’d like to ask her out, but she might refuse. She values her job and wouldn’t want to put it in jeopardy.’

  ‘Look at my cats, crawling all over you!’ exclaimed Agatha. ‘The only signs of affection I get from them are when they want food.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re fond of you. Is that someone at the door?’

  It was Roy, resplendent in a white cotton suit, striped shirt and silk tie. His hair was conventionally cut.

  ‘Who are you representing?’ asked Agatha. ‘Someone conventional?’

  ‘No, it’s a new boy band called the Irreproachable. They dress square, so I’m supposed to fit in.’

  ‘You look good.’

  ‘I’m off,’ said Bill. ‘See you in court.’

  Once he had taken his overnight bag up to the spare room, Roy demanded to know all the details.

  ‘Let’s sit in the garden,’ said Agatha. ‘The weather’s lovely.’

  ‘You need a gardener,’ commented Roy. ‘It’s a jungle.’

  ‘Do you know,’ said Agatha, ‘I’ve been frightened to engage someone in case it should turn out to be Tulloch or someone from the gang. I’ll get someone now.’

  ‘So tell me all about it.’

  How unreal it all seemed now, thought Agatha as she told him what had happened.

  When she had finished, Roy asked, ‘How’s Toni bearing up? I mean, I felt sick for ages after my kidnapping, but, I mean, thinking you’re going to get your face burnt off!’

  ‘She’s been getting counselling and she seems to be all right. It’s hard to tell with Toni. She’d been staying at the vicarage, but she went back to her flat as soon as she heard about Tulloch’s arrest. Do you know Tulloch is suing me for grievous bodily harm?’

  ‘He won’t get away with it, surely?’

  ‘It’s up to the Crown Prosecution Service, but in the meantime, I’d better get my lawyer on to it. You know, I’m almost tempted to ask Simon back.’

  ‘What! To work for you after he was prepared to sneak on your work to Mixden?’

  ‘Well . . . I know. It’s just he’s such a good detective. You see, I need someone with intuition. We don’t have the same resources as the police.’

  ‘But what if he works for you and takes a payoff from Mixden? And what about dumping that girl at the altar? What about chickening out of the army?’

  ‘The girl tricked him by saying she was pregnant. I don’t know that I blame him for not wanting to go back. It seems that Sergeant Sue is highly popular in the regiment, and Simon got really trashed in the local papers for dumping her at the altar. Also, Mixden’s in trouble with the police. They’re trying to charge him with industrial espionage or something, but it’s his word against Simon’s and nobody wants to believe a word Simon says any more.’

  ‘And what about Toni?’

  Agatha looked singularly shifty. ‘I’ll have to ask her.’

  Roy rose to his feet. ‘I’ll just run up to the vicarage and have a talk with Mrs Bloxby.’

  ‘Wait! I’ll come with you.’

  ‘I’d like a chat with her on my own. She’s better than any therapist.’

  ‘Oh, go,’ said Agatha huffily.

  When Roy had left, Agatha sat miserably staring at the kitchen table. She suddenly felt very much alone. One of her cats, Boswell, jumped on her lap and stared into her face, and Hodge, the other, climbed up her back and draped itself round her neck.

  A tear rolled down Agatha’s face. ‘You wretched animals. You care after all!’

  Roy was away for an hour. At times Agatha thought of simply leaving and abandoning him for the rest of the day.

  Toni’s doorbell rang. Simon’s voice came through the intercom. ‘Can I come up?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Toni reluctantly, and let him in.

  ‘You still look a bit white,’ she said when Simon walked into the room. ‘When did they let you out?’

  ‘This morning.’ He sat down wearily in an armchair.

  ‘And why are you here?’

  ‘I couldn’t think of anywhere to go.’

  ‘Aren’t you living with your parents?’

  ‘They got me a flat. They keep looking at me with such disappointment in their eyes, I can’t bear it.’

  ‘I can understand them,’ said Toni. ‘I went for a job at Mixden because I thought Agatha had driven you into the army. When he suggested I spy on her, I walked out. Agatha can be infuriating and meddling, but I owe her a lot.’

  ‘I wish I could work for her again. I mean, if I hadn’t had that flash of genius about searching car salesrooms, maybe no one would have got on to Tulloch.’

  ‘Simon! She wouldn’t even have you gift-wrapped. And you said how much you hated working for her!’

  ‘I know. But she did save my life. Maybe the reason she annoys me is because there’s a good bit of Agatha in me.’ He leaned forward. ‘Look, Toni, just suppose she did say yes, what would you feel about it?’

  ‘Do you mean romantically or professionally?’

  ‘Professionally.’

  ‘I don’t know. I would like someone of my own age around. I seem to have got divorced from all my old school friends. I’m the odd girl out. I don’t like binge drinking. They like to go to clubs on a Saturday night and get wasted.’

  ‘Nobody loves me either,’ said Simon gloomily.

  ‘Yeah. But you deserve it.’

  ‘Fancy going to a movie?’

  ‘What kind of movie?’

  ‘There’s a rerun of Gigi at the Classic. But you’ve probably seen it.’

  ‘No,’ said Toni. ‘That’s one I missed.’

  ‘Come on, then. Great musical. Great fun. What else were you planning to do?’

  ‘All right. But don’t get any ideas!’

  ‘None. I promise. I’m off women.’

  ‘I’ll just get my bag.’

  Roy returned in high good humour. ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’

  ‘What now?’ asked Agatha. Her cats slid off her and disappeared into the long grass of the garden.

  ‘I’ve found someone to do your garden.’

  ‘Big deal. Look, I’m grateful. But I could have found someone myself. Who is this fellow? Or is it a woman?’

  ‘No, he’s just moved into the village.’

  ‘Gnarled and creaking?’

  ‘Gorgeous. I’m telling you, babes, he’s to die for.’

  ‘How did you meet this paragon?’

  ‘I happened to mention to Mrs Bloxby that your garden was a mess.’

  ‘Oh, really? Was that part of your therapy session?’

  ‘It was after we’d had our little talk. Don’t get bitchy.’

  ‘I,’ said Agatha Raisin, ‘am never bitchy.’

  ‘Yes, well, never mind that,’
said Roy hurriedly. ‘Mrs Bloxby happened to mention that there was an incomer, George Marston, who does gardens. He lives in a cottage at the village end. The one called Wisteria Cottage.’

  ‘Didn’t old Mrs Henry live there?’

  ‘You really are out of touch. She died last year. So I went there and this Adonis answered the door. He says he does gardening and all sorts of odd jobs.’

  ‘What age?’

  ‘Hard to tell. Not young. Maybe early forties. Posh accent.’

  Agatha winced. Early forties seemed young to her. ‘So why is this posh-accented beauty offering himself as a labourer?’

  ‘Why don’t you phone him and ask him? Come on, Aggie. Just look at your garden.’

  ‘Oh, all right. What’s the number?’

  ‘Here’s his card.’

  Agatha phoned. The cultured voice at the other end said he would be along in a few minutes.

  ‘Can’t be getting that much work if he’s so eager,’ she said. ‘The sun is over the yardarm or whatever. I’m going to have a gin and tonic. What about you?’

  ‘I’ll have the same.’

  They sat over their drinks in the garden. It was a beautiful Cotswold day, with fleecy clouds drifting against a dark blue sky.

  There came a ring at the doorbell. Roy shot to his feet. ‘I’ll get it!’

  Agatha waited, suddenly glad of the diversion.

  Roy entered the garden followed by a tall man. Agatha was wearing sunglasses. She took them off and stared at the vision before her.

  George Marston was over six feet tall, with thick grey blond hair and green eyes in a square, tanned face. His body under his dress of chinos and sweatshirt looked muscular.

  Agatha rose to her feet. ‘Roy, get Mr Marston a drink. I have to go upstairs.’

  Putting on an extra layer of make-up, thought Roy.

  Agatha scrubbed off her make-up and carefully applied a new layer. She slipped out of the loose cotton dress she had been wearing and changed into a gingham blouse, tight jeans and wedge-heeled sandals. She looked in the mirror. Country but sexy, she thought with satisfaction. There was a lot to be said for fear and misery. One lost weight. She went back downstairs.

  ‘Now, Mr Marston . . .’

  ‘George, please.’

  ‘George. I run a detective agency and recently have been under threat, so don’t think me rude if I ask you a lot of questions.’

  He smiled. Agatha’s heart gave a lurch. ‘Fire away,’ he said.

  ‘First of all, what is your background?’

  ‘I was in the army.’

  ‘For how long?’

  ‘Twenty years.’

  ‘When did you leave?’

  ‘Eight months ago.’

  ‘May I ask why?’

  ‘Certainly.’ He rolled up his left trouser leg, showing an artificial limb. ‘Present from Afghanistan,’ he said.

  ‘How awful,’ said Agatha.

  ‘It’s all right. I’ve got used to it. I’m good at all sorts of things – carpentry, gardening, things like that.’

  ‘Well, I see no reason why you don’t join me for a drink and then you can start right away. What are your rates?’

  ‘Eight pounds an hour.’

  ‘I feel obliged to tell you that the going rate in Carsely is ten pounds an hour.’

  ‘To be frank,’ he said, ‘I need the work and thought I would get it if I were a little bit cheaper.’

  ‘We’ll see how you go,’ said Agatha. ‘If your work is okay, you can earn the going rate. Now, what would you like to drink?’

  ‘Is that gin and tonic? I’d like one of those. I see an ashtray on the table. Mind if I smoke?’

  ‘Of course not. I smoke myself. Roy, be an angel and get George a drink.’

  When Roy had gone indoors, George settled in a chair and said, ‘Isn’t that the young man who was kidnapped?’

  ‘Yes. The whole thing has been frightening and I’m just getting over it.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  So Agatha did, while Roy returned with George’s drink and then sat in sulky silence, feeling he was being ignored.

  ‘You’ve certainly been through the wars,’ he said when Agatha had finished. ‘Look, if you don’t mind, I’ll get started.’

  ‘The gardening things and the mower are all in the shed at the bottom of the garden,’ said Agatha. ‘I’ll show you.’

  He worked all weekend. Roy complained that he had been ignored because Agatha could hardly bear to leave the house, preferring to sit out in the garden and admire her new acquisition.

  ‘Don’t fall for him,’ warned Roy when he left. ‘I mean, what a cliché!’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Middle-aged woman lusts after gardener.’

  ‘Don’t be silly.’

  When Agatha returned to her cottage, she had an impulse to invite George out for dinner. If Charles had turned up or if James had returned home, she would have decided against it. But she felt lonely.

  The garden was being rapidly restored. George was putting away the tools in the shed when Agatha called to him, ‘Like a drink?’

  ‘A cold beer would be lovely if you have one.’

  Agatha found one at the back of the fridge and filled a glass.

  ‘Are you married?’ asked Agatha.

  ‘I was once. Don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Children?’

  ‘No. Let’s talk about the garden. It won’t take me long to get it in shape for the autumn.’ He drained his glass. Agatha paid him. ‘Isn’t this too much?’ he asked.

  ‘No, your work is good, so you get the going rate.’

  ‘If I keep the shed keys, then I can get into the garden by the path at the side of the house and I won’t need to disturb you.’

  ‘That’s fine. I’ve got a spare set. I’ll be out at work,’ said Agatha, ‘but I might drop home during the day to see how you are getting on.’

  ‘Fine,’ said George. Then he rose easily from his seat, waved to her and moved swiftly away. Agatha winced as she heard the front door shut behind him.

  But she was not to be left alone for long. As she went to answer the summons of the doorbell, she thought with relief that it was simply marvellous to be able to answer her own front door without a feeling of terror.

  Simon stood there, looking plaintively at her.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Agatha. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘I wondered if you could ever see your way to giving me another chance?’

  ‘Oh, come in.’

  ‘Your garden looks better,’ said Simon. ‘Have you been working on it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Agatha, all at once wanting to keep the glory of finding George to herself. ‘Take a seat, Simon, and tell me why I should ever trust you again. What made you volunteer to spy for Mixden?’

  ‘I was pretty sure that after the wedding, you wouldn’t consider having me back. I know I’m good at detecting.’

  ‘I can’t have you back,’ said Agatha. ‘Toni would never forgive me, for a start. It was she you used to winkle out information.’

  ‘She says she will.’

  ‘When? How?’

  ‘I had a talk with her and we went to the movies.’

  ‘Look, I could certainly do with someone with your intuition. But it’s not only Toni I have to consider. It’s Phil, Patrick and Mrs Freedman. I’ll discuss it with them tomorrow. If I do take you back, you will need to work at all the lowest jobs for two months until I feel I can trust you. You will also need to sign a confidentiality document, and if you sneak to Mixden, I’ll sue your socks off.’

  On Monday morning, Agatha told her staff about Simon. Phil was all for giving him another chance, Toni said she did not mind, but Mrs Freedman and Patrick said he had proved himself untrustworthy. But when Agatha started to look at all the cases she had neglected, and they all realized there was a lot of hard work ahead, Patrick reluctantly said it would be useful to have someone to do the l
ost cats and dogs kind of work.

  Mrs Freedman said that in that case she would go along with it.

  A two-month trial was decided on, and Agatha phoned Simon.

  Three more cases came in that morning, and Agatha, who had hoped to rush off early and maybe see George, found she had to work long hours.

  Mrs Ada Benson called on Mrs Bloxby. The vicar’s wife looked at her wearily. ‘What now?’ she asked.

  ‘Dear me,’ said Mrs Benson. ‘One would think I was always complaining. It’s just a little matter.’

  Mrs Bloxby reluctantly stood aside, and Mrs Benson walked into the sitting room.

  ‘It’s like this,’ she began. ‘There is a newcomer in this village. A Mr George Marston.’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘What about him?’

  ‘He appears to be working full-time for Mrs Raisin.’

  ‘So? I know he needs work.’

  ‘But he should be warned.’

  ‘What on earth are you talking about?’

  ‘Agatha Raisin is a man-eater!’

  Mrs Bloxby sighed. ‘Would you please leave, Mrs Benson, and in future, would you telephone first? I am very busy. Please shut the door on your way out.’

  ‘Well, I never!’

  ‘Then it’s time you did. Goodbye!’

  Agatha longed for the weekend. The weather was still golden. Cotswold cottages lazed under a warm sun. Often, when they were busy, she and her staff would work on Saturdays as well, but she told them firmly that the following weekend was to be free – with the exception of Simon, who was asked to continue trying to find a missing teenager.

  She was up early on Saturday, trying on one outfit after another, settling at last for a white cotton blouson, blue cotton skirt and high-heeled sandals.

  He was already in the garden when she descended.

  ‘Coffee?’ she called out.

  ‘Fine.’

  When she had two mugs of coffee ready, he joined her at the garden table.

  ‘Did you bring your bill?’ asked Agatha.

  He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket. Agatha opened her handbag, took out her wallet and paid him the amount.

  ‘I’ve cost you a lot of money,’ he said, ‘but as you can see, everything’s nearly finished. In fact, I’ll be finished at lunchtime. Of course, I’ll be back occasionally to mow the lawn and do the weeding. I’ve been lucky to land several other jobs.’