by M C Beaton
James looked at the receiver before putting it down and smiled.
'What did he say?' demanded Agatha.
'He gave a frightened squawk and rang off. You won't be hearing from him again'
'Why are you so sure of that?'
'Because, my dear Agatha, it's an old-fashioned world, however tough and independent women have become. He now thinks he has an irate husband to deal with. Come along. You look too rattled to drive'
As she climbed into his car, Agatha felt a warm glow permeating her body. He had said he was her husband! Oh, somehow she must tell Freda Huntingdon that!
The day was blustery, with great cloud shadows racing across the fields, where new corn rippled in the fleeting sunlight. Agatha's heart sang. And then her voice sang, 'Oh, what a beautiful morning'
'It's afternoon' said James. He switched on the radio, a pointed rebuke, and Agatha sank back into silence.
The manor house looked as it had done before, calm and benign, part of the landscape rather than some building thrust upon it.
'So you're back' said Bunty, looking pleased. 'I was just going to have some coffee'
'We need your help' said James when they were all seated in the comfortable kitchen.
He succinctly outlined all that had happened and explained they were sure that Greta Bladen could help them.
Bunty listened carefully, her eyes bright with interest.
'As I told you before, I know Greta' she said. 'We all know each other in this little village. I'll phone her and ask her to come up'
She went off and came back shortly to say that Greta was on her way. 'You had better let me do the talking' said Bunty. 'She can be prickly'
And prickly was what Greta looked as she entered the kitchen and stopped short at the sight of Agatha and James.
'Now you can't run away from people asking questions about Paul's death' said Bunty firmly 'You didn't like the man, but surely you don't want a murderer to be left to roam the Cotswolds in peace. Sit down, Greta, and have coffee. You see, we all feel that if we knew a bit more about Paul Bladen, then we might be able to guess which of the suspects might have done it'
'Including me' said Greta bitterly, but she sat down and shrugged off her short coat.
'Well, it's a dreary story' she said. 'As you probably realize, I was ten years older than Paul when I met him. He was working as a vet in Leamington Spa where I lived. I had a dog then I was devoted to, the way only the unloved can become devoted to animals.'
Agatha, who had been thinking of her cats, stared down into her coffee cup.
'I took my dog to the vet for some shots. Paul was charming. I could not believe my luck when he asked me out. My parents had died and left me a house and a comfortable amount of money. It was what the romances call a whirlwind courtship. Shortly after we were married, I found my dog dead one morning. The animal had been fit and healthy the day before. Paul was all sympathy and did an autopsy. He said the dog had died of heart failure. Only in later years did I suspect he had poisoned it. Strange in a vet, but he had a hatred of dogs and cats. He told me about his dream of a veterinary hospital. He said he would name it after me. I gave him a considerable amount of money to get started.
'During the following year, he regaled me with stories of the plot of land he had bought and how the builders had started work. I was excited and asked to see it, but he said he wanted it to be a surprise. I said, "At least tell me where it is," and he said Chimley Road on the outskirts of Mircester. He started to come home very late. He said he was always going over to the building site when he finished work. Then he said we were moving to Mircester to be near the new hospital. He did not ask me for money. He said he had a house all ready but I was to promise not to go near Chimley Road until he was ready to surprise me'
Greta sighed. 'I was so much in love with him. That was until I met his partner, Peter Rice, at a party. I had known Peter before, by the way. We were old friends. So I thought it all right to ask him if they would still run the surgery when the new veterinary hospital was opened.
'He asked me, "What veterinary hospital?" I told him. He gave me a pitying look and said why didn't I go out to Chimley Road and have a look. Alarmed, I set off the next day. It was a long row of terraced houses. No building site.
'I taxed Paul with it. He began to say that things hadn't worked out there, so the building site was in Leamington, and when I didn't believe him, he finally came out with the truth. He was a gambler, a dedicated gambler. Not only had he spent all the money I had given him in gambling but he needed more to pay his debts. I refused. He grew ugly. He told me he had only married an old bat like me for my money. Yes, I could have killed him then. But I wanted free of him and so I made him agree to a separation and subsequent divorce. If he did not agree, I said, I would tell Peter Rice all about him'
'So' said James, 'one of his ladies could have murdered him because he conned money out of them'
'Surely that's hardly a reason for murder' protested Bunty.
'Oh, yes, it is' said Agatha, thinking of Jack Pomfret.
'So now you've got what you want from me' said Greta in a tired voice, 'may I go?'
'Of course, my dear' said Bunty 'But you must realize how essential it is to find out who did this terrible thing'
Greta stood up. 'Why? Why is it so important? He died painlessly. He was cruel and useless'
'But there is the murder of Mrs Josephs' said Agatha quietly. 'You must have read about that'
'Yes, but what's that got to do with Paul?'
'She said she was going to tell me all about him' said Agatha, 'and the next day she was dead'
Greta shook her head in bewilderment. 'I cannot bring myself to believe that Paul's death was anything other than an accident. I don't know this Josephs woman - I mean I didn't know her. Possibly her death is unrelated' Her voice shook. 'I've done what I can for you. Please don't trouble me again'
There was a long silence after she had left. Then, 'Poor woman' said Bunty.
'Perhaps' Agatha laced her fingers tightly round the coffee mug. "On the other hand, she surely had the most reason to kill Paul. She would know about Immobilon. Perhaps she would have access to Adrenalin, if he had left any of his drugs behind when he left her'
'You're forgetting about the break-in at the surgery' James pointed out.
"The police seem to think that might have been done after Mrs Josephs's death'
'So many women. So many suspects' mourned James. 'But we have taken up enough of your time, Bunty'
They thanked her and left.
'We've got one thing' said Agatha, as they drove off. 'Money, not passion, seems to be at the bottom of things. Look, Jack Pomfret didn't get any money out of me, right? But the very fact that he tried to trick me, the fact that he has the gall to phone me up makes me want to murder him, gives me a mad hatred and fear of him. Can you understand that?'
'Yes, I think so. If any of these women, I mean any of our suspects, apart from Greta, paid up, there would be a motive. We could go to Mircester and ask Peter Rice what happened to Paul Bladen's deposit book'
Agatha agreed, delighted at an opportunity of more time in his company.
The evening surgery at the vet's in Mircester was just closing. Peter Rice greeted them this time amiably enough but scoffed when they asked if he had any of Paul Bladen's bankbooks.
'I cleared all his papers out and made a bonfire of them' he said. Tve put the house up for sale. I could hardly sell it with all his junk around. I asked Greta if she wanted anything but she didn't, so I gave his clothes to charity and the contents of the house are being sold with it.'
'Which was his bank?' asked James.
'The Cotswold and Gloucester. But bank managers don't reveal anything about their customers' accounts, even when they're dead, as far as I know.'
'You didn't happen to notice if Paul had received any large sums from women recently?' asked Agatha.
He gave a jolly laugh. 'He was hardly young enou
gh to be a toy boy. The lawyers will only pass over to me what is left after their bill and the funeral costs have been settled. I'm afraid his banking affairs have gone to the grave with him. But why do you ask? Hadn't been ripping you off, had he?'
'Just curious' said Agatha. 'I mean it is odd, now that it's turned out someone murdered Mrs Josephs. I mean, it definitely makes Paul Bladen's death look like murder.'
'Not to me' said Peter. 'Pendlebury asked me to do that operation and I said I would never touch Immobilon again'
'Let's get something to eat' suggested James when they had left the surgery.
They chose a nearby pub - but not the one where Agatha had ruined the hand basin - and began to discuss the suspects, or rather, Agatha discussed the suspects while a preoccupied James frowned into his beer.
'I don't believe you've been listening to a word I've been saying,' said Agatha crossly.
'I've been half-listening. The fact is I've been thinking about committing a crime'
'You?'
'Yes. I've been thinking about breaking into the Cots wold and Gloucester Bank'
"But that's impossible. There'll be sophisticated burglar alarms and laser beams and pressure pads and God knows what else'
'Perhaps not. Let's finish our food and drink and go and take a look at it'
The bank was a converted shop in a side street where old Tudor buildings with overhanging eaves crowded out the night sky above.
'Burglar alarm of course' said James. 'We'll take a look round the back if we can get there'
They found a lane which ran along the back of a row of shops and the bank. There were a series of lock-ups, garages, and tall wooden fences, all having a closed, impregnable air.
James counted along. 'This is the back of the bank' he said, 'what used to be the garden. Surely they wouldn't wire up this wooden door in the wall.'
He took a small wallet of credit cards out of his pocket. Agatha bit back the impatient remark she was about to make - that apart from in the movies, she had never seen anyone open a lock with a credit card. He selected one.
Agatha turned away and looked along the lane, which was lit with sodium lamps, making everything look unreal, and, she thought more practically, probably making her lips look purple.
There was a click and she swung round. The door in the wall was standing open. 'Amazing,' said Agatha.
'Let's get inside before someone sees us' whispered James.
Agatha followed him in. He closed the door behind them and took out a pencil torch. 'You've done this before' accused Agatha.
He didn't reply but led the way up a narrow path between two strips of lawn. 'Look' he murmured, 'there's a kitchen at the back'
'What does a bank want a kitchen for?'
'Make tea for the staff. Left over from when it used to be a shop. Now, let me see . . '
The thin beam of the torch flicked up and down the building. 'I don't see any sign of an alarm here' he said. Tm going to have a go. Be prepared to make a run for it.'
'But we might not hear any alarm' said Agatha in an agony of nerves. It might just ring inside the police station'
'Where's your sense of adventure?' he mocked.
He took out the card again. Agatha prayed that he would not be able to get the door open. She imagined police cars swooping up the lane, police with loud-hailers; the reproachful eyes of Bill Wong. But all she heard was James's voice saying softly, 'It's open. Come on'
Now Agatha's heart was hammering so hard, she felt sure it could be heard for miles. The kitchen door closed behind them, the torch beam flickered rapidly to right and left. James opened a door leading out of the kitchen and led the way through.
They found themselves in a square room full of desks and computers. "The office' said James, 'which is all we need. Just as well. Look at that door over there. That's the one into the bank proper, where the money is'
Agatha shivered. There was an alarm box over the door and a steady red light glared down on them like an infuriated eye.
'Now' he said, 'make yourself comfortable. This might take some time. There are no windows in this room except for that one through to the main bank, which is just as well, for the light from the computer screen could have been spotted from outside'
Agatha sat down in a dark corner and waited, too frightened to watch what he was doing, although she was aware of a computer screen flickering into life and the soft sound of drawers being opened and shut.
It had been a long day and extreme fear had the effect of making Agatha feel sleepy. Her eyes closed.
She awoke with him shaking her shoulder and cried, 'We've been caught! The police!'
'Shhh! I've found his account' hissed James.
'Good. Can we get out of here?'
'Yes, I've taken notes. Quietly now.'
As Agatha finally followed him down the garden path, she felt sure there must be people living above the adjoining shops, people who were staring down at the two figures in the garden and reaching for their telephones, but when she shot one frightened look back, everything was as dark and silent as before.
Only when they were safely outside did she realize that fear was affecting her physically. 'I must find a Ladies' . . . quick,' she gasped.
'Are you feeling sick?'
'No, I've got to pee,' said Agatha. "There's a tide of pee rising up to my eyeballs.'
'We'll go back to the pub,' he said. 'It isn't far.'
Agatha cursed her own crudity. But she almost ran back to the pub.
'Now what?' she asked, elated because her fright was over and she had used the services of the pub's toilet.
'Don't you want to know what I found out?'
'Oh, yes.'
'Listen to this. In the short time Paul Bladen was in Carsely, he had deposits in his account: one of twenty thousand pounds, one of fifteen thousand, then nine thousand, one of four thousand, five deposits of five thousand, and one for five hundred. That's apart from his pay.'
'Who paid him?'
'There's the rub. Didn't say. I've been thinking. I would like to get inside that house of his. We could do it tonight.'
'Last orders, please, ladies and gennelmen. If you please,' called the barman.
'As late as that!' exclaimed Agatha. 'Well, we could start out tomorrow early and -'
'No, tonight' He looked at Agatha's cherry-red coat. 'We need some dark clothes.'
What monster is this I have unleashed? thought Agatha, looking at his animated face. She could tell him to go on his own. And yet, there would be all the excitement of the adventure, which might lead to ... They fumbled around in the dark of Paul Bladen's house.
'What's that?' he cried, clutching hold of Agatha. 'Nothing' he murmured, still holding her. 'Your perfume smells divine. Oh, Agatha!' And he bent his lips to hers.
'Agatha! Stop day-dreaming and let's get on' said James sharply and Agatha blinked the rosy vision away, obscurely irritated that he had snapped her out of it before he had kissed her.
Back at her cottage, Agatha changed into a pair of black slacks and a black sweater. She wondered whether he meant her to blacken her face. Better wait and see.
He rang her bell at one in the morning. He too was wearing a black sweater and black trousers. 'We'll be causing no end of a scandal,' he said cheerfully. 'I only hope no one sees me calling on you at this hour of the night,' and Agatha thought of Freda and fervently hoped that someone had.
James, who had been drinking mineral water during their last visit to the pub, elected to drive again. Agatha snuggled down in the passenger seat and dreamt they were racing off on their honeymoon.
'Just to be on the safe side,' said James, 'we'll park a street away and walk.'
Paul Bladen's house stood quiet and shuttered in a road of Victorian villas. Agatha remembered her last visit and was glad now she had run away.
James looked up and down the quiet street, which was lined with cherry trees in full bloom. A breeze blew down the street and blossom cascaded ab
out them. Isn't it sad' mourned James, 'that such beauty should be so fleeting?'
Too true' said Agatha edgily. 'But if you stand here for much longer admiring the blossom, then someone's going to see us.'
He gave a little sigh and Agatha wondered whether he were wishing he was with someone who could share his love of beauty.
'I think as there is no one around, we should go straight up to the front door' he whispered. "There's a dark porch and once we're there, we'll be pretty much shielded.'
'Why bother about dark clothes if we're not going to sneak around the back?' asked Agatha.
'Because it might take me a bit of time to get the door open, and so long as we are dressed in black, there's less chance of us being noticed from the street by any passer-by'
When they were in the shelter of the porch, he flicked the beam of his pencil torch at the door and then switched it off. 'Yale lock' he said with satisfaction. 'Lovely stained-glass panel on the door. I wonder if Peter Rice knows you can get money these days for Victorian stained glass'
'Get on with it' said Agatha, looking nervously over her shoulder.
And then they heard the sound of slow footsteps coming along the street and stiffened.
'Stand very still in the corner and turn your face away from the street and don't move' hissed James.
They froze.
The footsteps came nearer, stopping every once in a while. 'Come on, Spot' said a man's voice irritably. Someone walking the dog.
Agatha could feel sweat trickling down her face.
And then, to her horror, she heard the light patter of paws behind her and then a dog sniffing at her ankles and the sound of the owner walking up the garden path.
'Come out of there' cried the owner sharply. Please God, prayed Agatha, get me out of this one and I'll never be bad again.
The dog pattered off. 'I'm putting you on the leash now' said the owner's voice. This was followed by a metallic click and then those footsteps slowly retreated out of the garden and off down the street.
'Whew!' said Agatha. 'That was close. We should have pretended to be a courting couple' she added hopefully. "Then, if he'd seen us, he would have sheered off.'
