The Witches' Tree--An Agatha Raisin Mystery Read online

Page 8


  “Tried to seduce you, I’ll bet,” said Agatha, scraping the side of her car on a lamppost.

  “You’ve just scraped your car!” shouted Charles.

  “I know. What a relief. The trouble with having a new car is one always frets about when the first awful scratch is going to be. Now, it’s happened so I don’t need to worry anymore.”

  “You are stark raving bonkers.”

  “I am still a good detective. While she was waving her knickers at you, I had a look around upstairs. There are posters on the walls, like a teen bedroom. David Bowie, that actor from Poldark with the bare chest and Neil Oliver, that Scottish chap with the long hair. And on the bed are dolls, and teddy bears. Yukk! She’s mad.”

  “Eccentric. Maybe. Look, lots of people have a thing about David Bowie, the Poldark fellow is all the current rage and Neil Oliver means she watches intelligent television. Did you see his documentaries on Scottish explorers? Brilliant.”

  “The whole case makes me feel as if I’m wading through thick mud. You know what? Edward hasn’t paid me a penny so I am going to tear up his contract and leave it all to the police for the first time in my life.”

  “What if it turns out someone actually did kill old Mrs. Smellie?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Tell you what, I’m still quitting. I never thought divorces and missing cats and dogs would look so tempting.”

  “I suppose it’s only natural,” said Charles. “I mean, age creeping up on you.”

  “Like to get out and get a taxi?”

  Agatha was just about to turn in to Beaumont Street and suggest to Charles that they have a drink at the Randolph, when he shouted, “Stop the car!” He got out and before shutting the door said, “I’ll get the train back. Seen a friend.”

  Agatha looked in the rearview mirror. A blonde wearing thigh-high boots with cruising-for-a-bruising high heels was just disappearing inside. She felt diminished. Agatha did not know that the person Charles had seen going into the Randolph was the tubby figure of Giles Mirfett, his next-door neighbour and prosperous landowner. Charles had a bone to pick with him about an encroaching boundary wall. Agatha did a U-turn, deaf to the infuriated honks of the drivers she nearly hit.

  She drove grimly home. Despite a note from her cleaner, Doris, saying that the cats had been fed, Agatha gave them each a lump of chicken liver pate, made by Mrs. Bloxby and certainly not meant to be wasted on cats. Hodge and Boswell. Stupid names. Hodge was something to do with Doctor Johnson about whom Agatha knew precious little except he was one of those literary giants Cotswold people quoted at parties. “And sod them, too,” she muttered, patting Hodge who gave her an almost human glare as if to say, “Can’t you see I’m eating?”

  The wind moaned in the thatch and rain pattered against the windows. Tomorrow, vowed Agatha, she would tell Edward that she was no longer interested in detecting for him.

  * * *

  The morning started badly. Dead leaves had blocked up a drain outside the kitchen door with the result that the kitchen had pools of dirty water just inside the door. She mopped up the water and went outside to clear the drain, forgetting to put a coat on and so got drenched by heavy rain driven in by a cold gale. By the time she set out, she was in a black bad temper.

  Her reception at Edward’s home was not what she expected. His eyes were rimmed with red. “Have you seen her?” he cried. “Where’s Tiffany?”

  She followed him into his sitting room. “I’ve been up all night,” he moaned. “The police have just left but they say it’s too early to do anything about it.”

  “Might she not have gone to visit a friend?” suggested Agatha, but her heart sank as she remembered Tiffany bragging that she knew the identity of the murderer.

  “She would have phoned me,” he wailed. “She didn’t come home last night.” The doorbell rang. He looked out of the window and saw a television van parked outside and a man followed by a boom microphone and a cameraman heading for his front door.

  “It’s the press,” he growled. “I’ll tell them to go away.”

  “Don’t do that,” said Agatha. “We’ll go out there and use them. Tiffany will hear about it and phone you.”

  Agatha led him to the front door and opened it. “My name is Agatha Raisin,” she said. “I am working for Sir Edward here who is worried because his wife has disappeared.” Agatha propelled Edward forward. In a speech, he begged Tiffany to come home because there was a murderer at large. Then he gave a choked sob and hurried back into the house, followed by Agatha.

  Edward was sitting hunched over on a sofa, his head in his hands. Agatha decided it was not the time to tell him she was quitting. But she was suddenly sure that Tiffany would turn up.

  Later that afternoon, two village boys climbed the witches’s tree after school and perched on a low branch. Carl Emery was eight as was his friend, Joe Ash. Carl strapped on his father’s headlamp, used for cave exploring.

  “They do say as how there’s a gurt carp in that pond so I’m gonna shine a light down there and maybe we’ll spot it.”

  “I’m feart the witch might get us,” said Joe.

  “Get out o’ here,” jeered Carl. He had recently discovered that there wasn’t a Santa Claus and this had made him bitterly reject the idea of anything supernatural at all. He fumbled with the switch until a powerful beam shone down into the murky depths of the pond. The pond was covered in choppy little waves caused by the wind.

  “No good,” said Carl. “We’ll come back when the water’s still. Can’t see a blessed thing.”

  “I can,” whispered Joe. “I saw a white face down there.”

  “Idiot,” said Carl. “Mum says to bring you home for tea. There’s apple turnover and cream.”

  They scrambled down from the tree and headed off. Cable reporter, Sam Wherry, watched them go. He had been heading for the pub but had heard the boys by the pond and so had heard Joe’s remark about the face in the pond. Sam Wherry was a dying breed—a real-life reporter of the old school who ferreted out stories where other journalists had given up. So he got into his car and drove to Mircester where he bought a powerful halogen lamp. He called up his photographer who had been sleeping off the effects of the night before’s binge and ordered him to hurry to the pond. He was lucky in that the television news editor had decided they shouldn’t run Edward’s plea until the six o’clock news.

  The photographer, Chris Ramsay, had the hangover of all time and swore at having to wait in the rain and wind while Sam edged along the branch he had seen the boys on and shone his lamp down into the murky waters.

  Holding the lamp steady, Sam peered down into the water. Like a flickering mirage, a white face stared up at him.

  “Come along beside me,” he yelled to Chris. “See if you can get a pic.”

  “You’ll need to move,” grumbled Chris. “What am I supposed to be photographing?”

  “I swear there’s a body down there.” He backed off the low branch, Chris crawled along, Sam went after him and leaned round him to shine the lamp down into the water again.

  “Get off me!” shouted Chris and elbowed him in the ribs.

  Sam lost his balance, clutched desperately at Chris and both fell into the water. The pond was not all that deep. Sam was six feet tall. He found he was standing on something soft and shuddered. He bent down and pulled at what he felt to be cloth. But whatever it was proved to be too heavy for him to lift. Chris had gained the bank and was shouting that his camera was ruined and Sam should pay for it, but Sam barely heard him. Sam got out of the pond and called to some of the villagers who had gathered, attracted by the noise, “Get the police!”

  * * *

  Agatha Raisin was there before the police arrived because Molly had phoned her about the commotion at the pond.

  The fire brigade was the first to arrive. Shivering Sam was given hot sweet tea and wrapped up in blankets because he refused to leave the scene.

  “What’s going on?” asked Agatha, approaching Sam. />
  “Please back off,” ordered the chief fireman.

  “Agatha, I need a camera,” pleaded Sam.

  “Got one in my phone. Here it is. Someone down there?”

  “Saw a face. I think I felt a body. I…”

  “Move away, madam. Now!” shouted the fireman.

  “Talk to you later,” said Sam and he began to photograph the firemen from his seat in the back of a fire truck.

  Although having ascertained from Sam that the water was not all that deep, a fireman put on diving equipment and eased down into the pond. The water only came up to his shoulders. So he bent down with his face under the water and the light from the lamp strapped on his forehead lighting up the murky depths. One thumb was raised. Agatha groaned inwardly. I hope it’s a suicide, she thought.

  He called for cutting equipment and help. Another fireman suited up. To Agatha’s dismay, Edward appeared at the front of a gathering crowd.

  “Oh, hurry up!” Agatha heard Sam say. “The others will be here soon.”

  There was a gasp from the crowd as both men, who had bent down under the surface of the water, raised their heads as a body floated up, open eyes staring at the black, heartless branches of the witches’ tree. The paramedics rushed to help Edward who had fainted. A television crew had arrived and much to the fury of the police, the scene was suddenly bathed in bright light.

  Agatha scanned the faces of the watching villagers. There was a group of ten people, bunched together, seven women and three men, and their faces held an unhealthy look of supressed glee. They were on the other side of the pond. One minute they were there, and the next they had vanished. The wind howled and two branches of the tree rubbed to give a groaning sound.

  Agatha pulled her coat tightly about her shoulders. She decided suddenly to call on Molly. Where was the vicar? Surely he should have been at the pond to offer help.

  * * *

  At the vicarage, Molly answered the door. Agatha noticed to her dismay that Molly had been crying and felt a shrinking feeling of uselessness deep inside her. Other women might have given a spontaneous hug but Agatha’s soul had two left feet.

  “I could use a drink,” said Agatha. “Could you?”

  “Yes, I could. Come through to the kitchen. Mrs. Castle has just presented us with two bottles of sloe gin. Fancy some?”

  “Right now. Anything with a kick will do.”

  “I haven’t tried it. The kitchen’s nice and warm. I ran out of Spanish brandy but it does well on slivovitz. Sorry about the smell of paint. I was trying to brighten the place up.”

  One wall had been painted white. “Never say you’re doing the painting yourself,” exclaimed Agatha. “That ceiling is awfully high.”

  “I’m nimble. Sit down. What’s all the commotion out there?”

  “I think they’ve found Tiffany’s body in the pond.”

  “I always thought her unstable.”

  “No, the body was weighted down with something that they had to cut free.”

  “Sit down, Agatha. That purple stuff’s the gin. Help yourself.”

  “I thought that was why you had been crying,” said Agatha bluntly.

  “No, I’ve been getting nasty letters, or rather Rory has. They all say the same thing. I wasn’t raped. I lead men on and then cry rape and so on and on and on. Last night in bed I wanted comfort and he shrank away a bit and then said he was tired. I swear deep down all men think women are asking for it. Pour a couple of glasses.”

  Agatha, mindful that she had to drive home, poured a small measure into each glass.

  “A toast!” said Molly. “To hell with all men. Who needs them?”

  “I wouldn’t mind one right now,” said Agatha. “Oh, someone to dream about and keep the world away.”

  “What an odd woman you are,” said Molly. “But I suppose you have to have a sensitive radar to be a good detective.”

  “Was the rape awful?” asked Agatha and then winced as the fiery gin went down her throat.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Yes, you do,” said Agatha. “I got that from Mrs. Bloxby, the saint of Carsely. Mind if I have some more of that gin?”

  “Help yourself. I never talk about it.”

  “Never! You mean not to a therapist or victim support or Rory?”

  “Talking makes it real.”

  “Talking makes it go away,” said Agatha.

  “Oh, really? When were you last raped?”

  “Don’t talk about it, then,” snapped Agatha. “See if I sodding care.”

  Molly poured more gin. The room fell silent except for the sound of the wind, moaning in the eaves and hissing through the ivy.

  Molly gave a little sob. Then she spoke. Agatha sat and listened, horrified. It was the beastliness of it, the insults, the filth.

  “So that’s it,” said Molly at last.

  “Does it affect your sex life?”

  “No, oddly enough. I think if I even suspected that Rory thought I had even a little bit to do with it, I would freeze up forever. Let’s cheer up. Rory’s brother should be arriving any moment.”

  “Not a vicar a well?”

  “No, he’s an architect.” There was a knock at the door. “That’s probably him now.”

  “You stay. I’ll go,” said Agatha. “It might be the press.”

  She opened the heavy oak door. A tall figure stood silhouetted against the blue lights of television crews. “Are you the brother-in-law?” asked Agatha.

  “Yes. Who are you?”

  “A friend. Molly’s in the kitchen.”

  He moved past her. Agatha decided to go home. She needed peace and quiet to think. She longed to walk away from this case, and yet it was the worst one she had ever come across. Bodies everywhere and a village reported to have a coven of witches.

  She followed Rory’s brother into the kitchen. A strong draught up at the ceiling was making the single lightbulb sway back and forth on its flex. It cast golden lights in the brother-in-law’s thick white hair. He was tall and he was handsome in a rugged way. He was the knight in armour, the let me shoulder all your troubles type of hero, thought Agatha, feeling dazed.

  “Have you been introduced?” asked Molly. “This is Guy. Guy, meet Agatha Raisin, famous detective.”

  Agatha shook hands with him, feeling bewildered, then elated, then suddenly happy as if coming home to a much-loved country. Charles would have recognised the symptoms. Agatha Raisin’s next magnificent obsession was upon her.

  “What are you two tippling? Sloe gin. I’ll have some of that. What on earth is going on in this village?”

  “I’m tired, Agatha,” said Molly. “You tell him.”

  And so Agatha did, noticing as she talked that he did not wear a wedding ring, but then, a lot of British men did not. His eyes were amazing, almost like jewels. At first they just seemed brown but then she noticed they were rimmed round the iris with gold with flecks of pure green.

  Agatha had just finished her tale when Molly asked, “Isn’t Annie joining you?”

  Radiance left Agatha’s face, like a light being switched off. “I’ve got to go,” she said.

  “Annie is history,” said Guy. “You never liked her anyway.”

  “Middle-aged women who think they are wild children are not to my taste.”

  “Annie is forty-three.”

  “That’s ancient!”

  Fifty-three-year-old Agatha winced. “Only according to the Bible,” teased Guy.

  Agatha rose to her feet and staggered slightly. “Oh, dear, too much sloe gin.”

  “Leave your car here and the keys,” urged Molly. “Guy will drive you home. Agatha lives in Carsely. It’s only a few miles away.”

  “Delighted,” said Guy.

  “Thanks for everything,” Molly called after Agatha.

  “What was my sister-in-law thanking you for?” asked Guy curiously, once Agatha was settled next to him in his Range Rover. Agatha had no intention of telling him about the
rape and so she said that Molly had urged her to look into the murders and that was what she had been doing.

  When they got to Agatha’s cottage, she saw to her dismay that Charles’s car was parked outside. She couldn’t ask him in, Charles would say something off-putting.

  But she brightened as Guy said, “Let’s continue this conversation. What about lunch or dinner sometime?”

  “Lovely. Here’s my card with the address of my office. See you, Guy.”

  * * *

  Agatha went into the house, singing. Charles came down the stairs wrapped in a silk dressing gown. “You keep late hours,” he said. “And your mouth is all purple. Been at the true and blushful Hippocrene?”

  “Sloe gin.”

  “And who was that I heard you say goodnight to?”

  Agatha decided to lie. “Just some copper. There’s been another murder.”

  “What! Mrs. Smellie?”

  “No, Tiffany.”

  “Well, she did brag she knew the murderer. What was this copper like?”

  “Who?”

  “The one that drove you home.”

  “Oh, him. They all look alike to me. I’m tired. Can we talk in the morning?”

  Charles was about to ask who it was that had put the shine back in Agatha’s bearlike eyes, but pulled himself up short. Only a husband or lover had that right. He turned and went upstairs to bed in the spare room. But he did not go immediately to sleep. He folded his hands on his chest, stared up into the blackness of the ceiling, and wondered why he felt vaguely sad.

  * * *

  Agatha awoke with a feeling of anticipation. This was the day she might see Guy. She had forgotten all about Charles until she went into the kitchen and found him sitting there with a gleeful look on his face. “A chap called Guy Harris had just been here. Left your car. Says he drove you home last night. Doesn’t look like a copper.”

  “Charles, I was so tired, I couldn’t remember who drove me home. And I have news for you. I don’t want this case.”

  “Not like you to be gutless, Aggie!”

  “It’s known as self-preservation. There is a mad murderer out there. I have been almost buried alive, almost chucked in the Grand Canal in Venice, nearly burnt to death and a lot more. I do not have nine lives. I want to stay alive. Geddit? I am going to have a strong coffee and then I am going to confront Sir Edward and tell him I am retiring from the case.”

 

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Hasty Death emm-2 Read onlineEdwardian Murder Mystery 02; Hasty Death emm-2The Constant Companion Read onlineThe Constant CompanionHamish Macbeth 14 (1999) - Death of a Scriptwriter Read onlineHamish Macbeth 14 (1999) - Death of a ScriptwriterGinny Read onlineGinnyHamish Macbeth 10 (1994) - Death of a Charming Man Read onlineHamish Macbeth 10 (1994) - Death of a Charming ManHamish Macbeth 03; Death of an Outsider hm-3 Read onlineHamish Macbeth 03; Death of an Outsider hm-3The Love from Hell ar-11 Read onlineThe Love from Hell ar-11The Scandalous Lady Wright (The Regency Intrigue Series Book 4) Read onlineThe Scandalous Lady Wright (The Regency Intrigue Series Book 4)Hamish Macbeth 17 (2001) - Death of a Dustman Read onlineHamish Macbeth 17 (2001) - Death of a DustmanHamish Macbeth 13 (1997) - Death of a Dentist Read onlineHamish Macbeth 13 (1997) - Death of a DentistThe Paper Princess (The Royal Ambition Series Book 7) Read onlineThe Paper Princess (The Royal Ambition Series Book 7)Rainbird's Revenge: HFTS6 Read onlineRainbird's Revenge: HFTS6The Perfect Gentleman (The Love and Temptation Series Book 7) Read onlineThe Perfect Gentleman (The Love and Temptation Series Book 7)Sir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4) Read onlineSir Philip's Folly (The Poor Relation Series Book 4)The Witches' Tree--An Agatha Raisin Mystery Read onlineThe Witches' Tree--An Agatha Raisin MysteryDeath of an Outsider Read onlineDeath of an OutsiderHamish MacBeth 03 (1988) - Death of an Outsider Read onlineHamish MacBeth 03 (1988) - Death of an OutsiderAgatha Raisin and the Perfect Paragon Read onlineAgatha Raisin and the Perfect ParagonDeath of a Chimney Sweep Read onlineDeath of a Chimney SweepThe Dreadful Debutante (The Royal Ambition Series Book 1) Read onlineThe Dreadful Debutante (The Royal Ambition Series Book 1)Something Borrowed, Someone Dead Read onlineSomething Borrowed, Someone DeadAgatha Raisin and The Murderous Marriage ar-5 Read onlineAgatha Raisin and The Murderous Marriage ar-5The Highland Countess Read onlineThe Highland CountessDeath of a Chimney Sweep hm-1 Read onlineDeath of a Chimney Sweep hm-1The Skeleton in the Closet Read onlineThe Skeleton in the ClosetSusie Read onlineSusieAgatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas Goodbye Read onlineAgatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas GoodbyeRegency Gold (The Regency Intrigue Series Book 2) Read onlineRegency Gold (The Regency Intrigue Series Book 2)The Marquis Takes a Bride Read onlineThe Marquis Takes a BrideHamish Macbeth 16 (1999) - A Highland Christmas Read onlineHamish Macbeth 16 (1999) - A Highland ChristmasDeath of a Liar Read onlineDeath of a LiarHamish Macbeth 01; Death of a Gossip hm-1 Read onlineHamish Macbeth 01; Death of a Gossip hm-1Love and Lady Lovelace (The Changing Fortunes Series, Vol. 8) Read onlineLove and Lady Lovelace (The Changing Fortunes Series, Vol. 8)Death of an Honest Man Read onlineDeath of an Honest ManThe Desirable Duchess Read onlineThe Desirable DuchessDeception (Daughters of Mannerling 3) Read onlineDeception (Daughters of Mannerling 3)A Highland Christmas hm-16 Read onlineA Highland Christmas hm-16Polly Read onlinePollyThe Savage Marquess Read onlineThe Savage MarquessAgatha Raisin 03 (1994) - The Potted Gardener Read onlineAgatha Raisin 03 (1994) - The Potted GardenerPushing Up Daisies Read onlinePushing Up DaisiesDeath Of An Addict Read onlineDeath Of An AddictBanishment (Daughters of Mannerling 1) Read onlineBanishment (Daughters of Mannerling 1)Amaryllis Read onlineAmaryllisHamish MacBeth 06 (1991) - Death of a Snob Read onlineHamish MacBeth 06 (1991) - Death of a SnobThe Paper Princess Read onlineThe Paper PrincessHamish Macbeth 06; Death of a Snob hm-6 Read onlineHamish Macbeth 06; Death of a Snob hm-6The Dreadful Debutante Read onlineThe Dreadful DebutanteAgatha Raisin and the Fairies of Fryfam Read onlineAgatha Raisin and the Fairies of FryfamHamish Macbeth 22 (2006) - Death of a Dreamer Read onlineHamish Macbeth 22 (2006) - Death of a DreamerDishing the Dirt Read onlineDishing the DirtMinerva Read onlineMinervaDeath of a Nag hm-11 Read onlineDeath of a Nag hm-11Hamish Macbeth 18 (2002) - Death of a Celebrity Read onlineHamish Macbeth 18 (2002) - Death of a CelebrityQuadrille (The Love and Temptation Series Book 5) Read onlineQuadrille (The Love and Temptation Series Book 5)Death of a Glutton hm-8 Read onlineDeath of a Glutton hm-8The Westerby Sisters (Changing Fortunes Series) Read onlineThe Westerby Sisters (Changing Fortunes Series)The Scandalous Marriage (The Dukes and Desires Series Book 7) Read onlineThe Scandalous Marriage (The Dukes and Desires Series Book 7)The Adventuress: HFTS5 Read onlineThe Adventuress: HFTS5Death of a Valentine Read onlineDeath of a ValentineDeath of a Nag Read onlineDeath of a NagDeath of a Dustman hm-17 Read onlineDeath of a Dustman hm-17Hamish Macbeth 09 (1993) - Death of a Travelling Man Read onlineHamish Macbeth 09 (1993) - Death of a Travelling ManThe Loves of Lord Granton (The Changing Fortunes Series, Vol. 2) Read onlineThe Loves of Lord Granton (The Changing Fortunes Series, Vol. 2)Agatha Raisin and a Spoonful of Poison ar-19 Read onlineAgatha Raisin and a Spoonful of Poison ar-19To Dream of Love Read onlineTo Dream of LoveAgatha Raisin 04 (1995) - The Walkers of Dembley Read onlineAgatha Raisin 04 (1995) - The Walkers of DembleyHamish MacBeth 01 (1985) - Death of a Gossip Read onlineHamish MacBeth 01 (1985) - Death of a GossipDeath of a Maid hm-23 Read onlineDeath of a Maid hm-23Belinda Goes to Bath Read onlineBelinda Goes to BathDeath of a Kingfisher Read onlineDeath of a KingfisherDeath of a Charming Man hm-10 Read onlineDeath of a Charming Man hm-10Death of a Prankster hm-7 Read onlineDeath of a Prankster hm-7The Miser of Mayfair: HFTS1 Read onlineThe Miser of Mayfair: HFTS1Hamish Macbeth 05; Death of a Hussy hm-5 Read onlineHamish Macbeth 05; Death of a Hussy hm-5A Governess of Distinction (Endearing Young Charms Book 6) Read onlineA Governess of Distinction (Endearing Young Charms Book 6)The Westerby Inheritance Read onlineThe Westerby InheritanceDeath of a Hussy Read onlineDeath of a HussyHamish MacBeth 07 (1998) - Death of a Prankster Read onlineHamish MacBeth 07 (1998) - Death of a PranksterHamish Macbeth 20 (2004) - Death of a Poison Pen Read onlineHamish Macbeth 20 (2004) - Death of a Poison PenMiss Tonks Turns to Crime Read onlineMiss Tonks Turns to CrimeEdwardian Murder Mystery 01; Snobbery with Violence emm-1 Read onlineEdwardian Murder Mystery 01; Snobbery with Violence emm-1Agatha Raisin and the Wizard of Evesham Read onlineAgatha Raisin and the Wizard of EveshamHamish Macbeth 12 (1996) - Death of a Macho Man Read onlineHamish Macbeth 12 (1996) - Death of a Macho ManYvonne Goes to York Read onlineYvonne Goes to YorkA Highland Christmas Read onlineA Highland ChristmasSweet Masquerade (The Love and Temptation Series Book 4) Read onlineSweet Masquerade (The Love and Temptation Series Book 4)Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wykhadden Read onlineAgatha Raisin and the Witch of WykhaddenThe Dead Ringer Read onlineThe Dead RingerAgatha Raisin 05 (1996) - The Murderous Marriage Read onlineAgatha Raisin 05 (1996) - The Murderous MarriageAgatha Raisin 07 (1998) - The Wellspring of Death Read onlineAgatha Raisin 07 (1998) - The Wellspring of DeathAgatha Raisin: As the Pig Turns ar-22 Read onlineAgatha Raisin: As the Pig Turns ar-22