Agatha Raisin & the Vicious Vet ar-2

by M C Beaton

  Agatha slowly straightened up.

  Peter Rice stood in the doorway, looking at her. She was aware again of the strength of that body which supported the disproportionately small head. She had left the tyre-iron lying beside the shattered door. Her eyes flew this way and that, seeking a weapon.

  'Don't even think of it' he said. He produced a small automatic pistol from his pocket. 'Through to the examining room, Mrs Raisin' he said. 'We won't be disturbed there'

  Even though she felt weak with fear, even though she felt her bladder was about to give, Agatha gave the door of the cage with her cats in it a kick as she passed and tried to send them telepathic messages to escape. Rice switched off the lights in the room with Agatha's cats and the other animals and switched on the lights in the small examining room.

  Keeping the pistol trained on Agatha, he asked, 'How did you know it was me?'

  'I didn't really' said Agatha. 'But I guessed Josephine Webster had been the one to take the cats and leave that note. I followed her and saw her with you. You can't shoot me. The police will find my body and they'll know it was you'

  'Mrs Raisin, you broke into my surgery. I saw the light and a figure inside who rose, I thought, as if to attack me. I shot you. I was defending my life and property'

  'I left a note, saying where I would be' said Agatha.

  He studied her for a few moments and then smiled. 'No, you didn't, or that Lacey fellow would be here. Anyway . . .' He raised the pistol an inch.

  It was because of Greta, wasn't it?' said Agatha.

  'In a way. But I didn't think of killing him then. I didn't even think of it when she told me how he had been cheating her. No, it was when he started cheating me, ah, then I began to get really angry. That famous veterinary hospital of his. So good for conning gullible women. We had a receptionist here, a nice girl. Paul got his claws into her. She was to persuade the customers to pay cash as much as possible and pass the money to him. Did she get a cut of it? Of course not. All was to go to that hospital which, of course, was to be named after the receptionist. I had taken a long fishing holiday. This is a wealthy practice. I had hired a young vet to stand in for me when I was away and to work with Paul because Paul mostly handled all the cases of horses and farm animals. When I came back, I remarked that trade had dropped by a considerable amount. I suspected the temporary vet, but then one day I was talking to one of the customers in the square and we were complaining about taxes and business taxes in general. "I suppose," says she, "that's why you want so much money in cash. To avoid tax. The girl always asks for it." Of course I got hold of the girl and she broke down and said she had only been stealing for the greater good, namely the founding of that fictitious hospital. I sacked the girl but not Paul. Oh, no. He was going to have to pay me back. But I wanted him out of my hair. Josephine said Carsely was a good place, and so I told him to set up a business there and trick the ladies with his stories if he liked, but every penny was to come to me, and just in case anything happened to him, I got him to make out his will in my favour. I said unless he paid me back in full, I would go to the police'

  Agatha stayed rigid, seeing out of the corner of her eye that her cats had slid into the room beside her.

  1 still wouldn't have killed him. But one of the women he tricked was Miss Josephine Webster, whom I had come to love. She came to me, crying and sobbing, and told me the whole story. I knew he was up at Pendlebury's. I was going to curse him, sack him, punch him on the nose, that was all. The stables were empty apart from Paul. I saw him with the syringe, I knew what was in it, what the operation was and something took over and the next thing I knew he was dead. I slipped off without anyone seeing me. I thought I was safe. I was furious when I realized he had taken a double mortgage out on that house, so instead of gaining by his death, I lost. Josephine and I were going to announce our engagement after the fuss had died down. She knew what I had done. Then that Josephs woman came here. She said Paul had tricked her and she was going to tell the police the truth. She said Paul had told her that I had encouraged him to dupe the women out of money. I promised to pay her back. Then I panicked when Josephine phoned me and told me that you, you Nosy-Parking bitch, were about to hear all from Mrs Josephs. Josephine told me she suffered from diabetes. But still I didn't mean to do it if she saw sense. I tried to give her the money back, but the silly old bat wouldn't take it. She said she was going to the police after talking to you. I jabbed the Adrenalin into her. The minute she was dead, I went into a blind panic. I dragged her upstairs in the hope that when she was found dead in the bathroom, they would think it suicide or accident. I chucked the empty bottle out of the car window, as if by getting rid of it, I had got rid of the stain of murder. But you had to interfere again, you and that Lacey. 'Take her cats," said Josephine. "That'll shut her up." What a mess. What a bloody mess. But I'm going to marry Josephine, and nothing's going to stop me.'

  Hodge jumped up on the examining table and sat looking from one to the other.

  Agatha could suddenly smell her own fear, rank and bitter, and so could the cat. Its tail puffed up like a squirrel's.

  'So, Mrs Raisin, I need to get this over with. I advise you to stand still and take what's coming to you.'

  His finger began to squeeze the trigger. Agatha dived under the table as a shot rang harmlessly above her head.

  One beefy hand dragged her out from under the table. Panting, he threw her against the wall. Hodge flew straight into his face, clawing and spitting. In his panic, the vet tried to shoot the cat off his face but the shot went wild, smashing into a cabinet of bottles.

  Agatha tried to drive the examining table into his stomach as he tore the cat from his face and flung it across the room. She had seen people in films doing that, but it was bolted to the floor. She dived to the side as he fired again, wrenched her ankle and fell on the floor.

  She shut her eyes. This was it. Death at last. And suddenly Bill Wong's voice like a voice from heaven said, "Give me the gun, Mr Rice'

  There was another shot and a cry from Bill. Agatha screamed, 'Oh, no!' and then felt strong hands tugging at her and James Lacey's voice in her ear, saying, 'It's all right, Agatha. Don't look. Rice has shot himself. Don't look. Come with me. Keep your head turned away.'

  Agatha rose, clinging to him, and buried her face in the rough tweed of his jacket.

  Three hours later Agatha, bathed and wrapped in her dressing-gown, sat in her sitting-room with the cats on her lap, being fussed over by James.

  'Bill Wong will be calling on us' he said. 'Is he grateful to us for having solved two murders for him? Not a bit of it'

  'Us?' demanded Agatha. 'I was the one who found out about Rice'

  1 had more or less come to the same conclusion' said James, 'although it took me some time to guess Josephine Webster was involved. What put you on to her?'

  Agatha told him about finding that shred of dried petal on the doormat.

  'But you should have come to me' exclaimed James, 'or told Bill Wong'

  'I only thought of the cats' said Agatha. 'Funny, isn't it? I thought my heart would break when they were taken, but here they are, purring away, two animals to be cared for and fed, and now they just seem like an everyday nuisance'

  'Though from what you say, Hodge saved your life' James pointed out. 'I wonder if they got Josephine Webster. I wonder if she was still sitting there in the hotel restaurant waiting. Bill and his boss went right there while we had to go to the police station and make endless statements'

  'So you had worked it all out yourself?' said Agatha.

  He threw another log on the fire and sat down. 'Once I had written down what everyone had done and said, Peter Rice seemed the obvious suspect. He was strong enough to have dragged Mrs Josephs up the stairs, he knew where Bladen would be on the day he was murdered, he knew about the operation on that horse. One always thinks of murderers as planning everything scientifically, but in Rice's case it was all panic and then luck. All he had to do was sit tight and
let Mrs Josephs make her accusations to the police. The police wouldn't have thought the philandering and conning tactics of Paul Bladen had anything to do with Peter Rice. I think it was our nosing around that rattled him so badly'

  'Don't say that,' pleaded Agatha. "That means we are both directly responsible for Mrs Josephs's death.'

  "Well, he would probably have panicked anyway'

  The doorbell rang. "That'll be Bill,' said James, 'come to read us the riot act'

  Bill was on his own. 'An off-duty call' he said, sinking down wearily on the sofa beside Agatha. 'Yes, we got Webster. It must have seemed a lifetime to you, Agatha, when he was trying to kill you, but there she was, drinking martinis, just where he had left her.

  'She denied the whole thing, but when we took her to the station and then told her that Rice had confessed everything to you, she broke down. Cruel thing to say, but we hadn't yet told her he was dead.

  'She had been having an affair with Rice for a few months, up until Paul Bladen arrived in Carsely. Before her affair with Rice, she had been a virgin. Think of that, in this day and age. I think her affair with Rice made her feel like a femme fatale, and so, when it seemed that Bladen was courting her as well, it went right to her silly head. That snowy evening you were supposed to meet him in Evesham, that was the evening she went to his house and gave him the cheque. So the grateful Bladen took her to bed. Even if it hadn't been snowing, he probably wouldn't have turned up to meet you, Agatha. She was the one who answered the phone to you.

  'But Bladen was up to his old tricks. He asked her for more money and she grew alarmed and said she could not afford any more. So he lost interest in her, and the repentant Miss Webster went back to the arms of Peter Rice and told him all about Bladen. So, to Rice, history was repeating itself. He had, I gather from what you said in your statement, Agatha, been deeply in love with Greta. Paul had taken her away. Now Paul was doing the same thing with Josephine. But what put you on to them?'

  'I found a dried-up flower petal on the doormat,' said Agatha proudly, 'and realized it had probably fallen out of the note about the cats, and so I knew dried flowers meant Josephine Webster.'

  Bill looked puzzled. 'We wouldn't have missed anything like that.'

  'That's what I thought' said James. 'Someone brought you a bouquet of dried flowers, Agatha, the morning after, so it probably fell from that'

  'Why should you be looking closely at the doormat?' exclaimed Agatha, exasperated. 'Your men were searching outside, where whoever delivered the letter had stood, as well as all over the back garden, because whoever took the cats must have got into the garden by the lane which runs between mine and James's garden. They wouldn't bother about the doormat'

  'I think you'll find it came from the bouquet after all, Agatha. You made a lucky guess, and a near-fatal one for you. I'm not going to lecture you tonight on the folly of amateurs interfering. Goodness' he laughed, 'I suppose it's a case of rank amateurs setting out to catch a rank amateur'

  Agatha glared.

  'Anyway, I'm glad it's all over. I'm off on a special training course, so I won't see you for a few weeks' Bill stood up. 'Has the doctor seen you, Agatha?'

  She shook her head.

  'You'd best see him tomorrow. You're going to be a wreck when reaction sets in'

  Til be all right' said Agatha, giving James an adoring look.

  He returned it with a startled one and then stood up and said, 'Do you want me to get Mrs Bloxby to stay with you, Agatha?'

  'No' she said, disappointed that he was not volunteering to fetch his sleeping-bag. Til be all right after a good night's sleep'

  After they had left, Agatha rose and went up to bed, the two cats trotting after her. She smiled before she drifted off to sleep. It was all over. She had survived. She felt great. No need to see any doctor. It would take more than one murderer to get Agatha Raisin down!

  Chapter Ten

  The next few days were glorious for Agatha, despite the fact that James had sent her a note saying he was shutting himself up to write for a few weeks.

  So many people came to call to hear about how Agatha had solved the murders of Paul Bladen and Mrs Josephs, and Agatha stitched away at her story, embroidering the details, so that by the time she gave a talk to the Carsely Ladies' Society, it had become a real blood-and-thunder adventure.

  'How exciting you make it all seem' said Mrs Bloxby after Agatha's talk. 'But do be careful. It can take a little time for reality to set in, and then you might suffer badly'

  'I was not lying' said Agatha hotly.

  'No, of course you weren't' said Mrs Bloxby. 'I particularly liked that bit when you said to Peter Rice, "Shoot me if you dare, you evil fiend."'

  'Oh, well' muttered Agatha, shuffling her feet and avoiding the steady gaze of the vicar's wife, 'a bit of poetic licence is allowed, I think'

  Mrs Bloxby smiled and held out a plate. 'Have a slice of seed cake'

  From that moment, Agatha began to feel extremely uncomfortable. Her version of events, which had become a highly coloured adventure story, had indeed come to seem like reality. As she walked back from the vicarage, she noticed how dark the village seemed and how the light near the bus shelter had gone out again.

  The lilac trees were all out in Lilac Lane, whispering in the night wind, nodding their plumed heads as if gossiping about Agatha as she scurried homewards underneath, thinking that the smell of their flowers reminded her of funerals.

  She went inside. The cats did not come to meet her and she let out a whimper of fear and ran to the kitchen. They were curled up together in their basket in front of the stove, happy in each other's company, fast asleep and not caring about one frightened mistress who wanted them to wake up and keep her company.

  She reached out a hand to switch on the electric kettle and all the lights went out.

  In blind terror, she stumbled round the kitchen, searching for a torch, until some sane voice in her mind told her it was only another of the village's frequent power cuts. Forcing herself to be calm, she remembered she had candles in the kitchen drawer, found one and lit it with her cigarette lighter. She held it up and found a candlestick. May as well go to bed, she thought.

  This was how they had gone to bed in the old days when the cottage was built, people walking up this very staircase with the shadows leaping before them in the wavering candle-flame. So many generations. So many dead. Just think how many had gasped out their last breath in this very bedroom. Her dressing-gown at the back of the door looked like a hanged man. Faces stared at her out of the pretty flowered wallpaper. She was in a cold sweat.

  She forced herself to make her way downstairs to the phone in the hall. She put the candle on the floor, sat down on the floor herself, cradled the phone in her lap and dialled James Lacey's number.

  His voice when he answered sounded brisk and efficient. 'James' said Agatha, 'can you come along?'

  'I'm writing hard. Is it important?'

  'James, I'm frightened'

  'What's happened?'

  'Nothing. It's just that that reaction everyone's been warning me about has set in'

  'Don't worry' he said. 'Help is on its way'

  Agatha stayed where she was. Her fear had gone now that he was coming, but she decided she had better remain looking as frightened as she had been. Perhaps she might throw herself into his arms. Perhaps he would hold her close, and say, 'Agatha, let's give all those gossips a treat and get married' Perhaps he would kiss her. What would that be like?

  This rosy fantasy went on until she realized that a considerable amount of time had passed. Of course, he was probably packing his pyjamas and shaving-kit, but still . . .

  The doorbell rang, making her jump. Yes, she would throw herself into his arms.

  Mrs Bloxby said gently, 'Now, now, Mrs Raisin. I knew this would happen'

  Agatha opened her eyes and backed off in confusion.

  She had seen a dark figure on the step and had taken it to be James.

&nbs
p; The vicar's wife was carrying an overnight bag. 'Mr Lacey phoned me and I came as quick as I could. The doctor's on his way'

  Feeling almost ill with disappointment, Agatha allowed Mrs Bloxby to lead her to the kitchen. The lights came on again. Everything was normal.

  By the time a sedated Agatha was in bed, the doctor had left, and Mrs Bloxby was sleeping in the spare room, she could only reflect woozily that James was a beast and a bastard.

  Agatha spent a long and miserable time of panics and nightmares, glad of callers during the day, glad of the members of the Carsely Ladies' Society, who took it in turns to sleep in her spare room during the night. Not one woman mentioned James Lacey and Agatha's heart was sore with rejection.

  And then her fears ebbed away and her mood was improved with long sunny days.

  In such a small village it was inevitable that she should meet James again. He smiled at her in a kindly way and asked after her health, he said writing was coming easily and he was working hard. He said they must have lunch sometime, that very English remark which usually means absolutely nothing. Agatha looked at him with bitter hurt in her bearlike eyes but replied politely and coolly, thinking they were almost like a couple who had once had an affair, regretted now on one side.

  And then one morning, as lunchtime was approaching, Agatha's doorbell rang. She no longer rushed to it expecting to see James. Bill Wong stood on the step.

  'Oh, it's you' said Agatha. 'You must have been back from that course ages ago.'

  'I was' said Bill, 'but another case came up which involved liaising with the Yorkshire police, so I've been travelling a bit. Aren't you going to ask me in?'

  'Of course. We can have coffee in the garden.'

  'Lacey around?' he asked as he followed her through the house.

  'No' said Agatha bleakly. 'In fact, apart from little talks like "How are you" and "Isn't the weather great" over the grocery counter, I haven't really seen him'

  'Odd, that. I thought the pair of you were as thick as thieves'