by M C Beaton
'Well, we're not' snapped Agatha. She had bought a new garden table and chairs. 'Sit down, Bill. I was just going to get a bite to eat. Cold chicken and salad suit you?'
'Anything. Your garden could do with some flowers. Give you an interest'
'I suppose. I'll get the food'
Over lunch, Bill told her about the case he was working on and then they finally got around to discussing the case of Peter Rice.
'It's odd' said Bill, 'when you think of the pair of them, Rice and Webster. Hardly Romeo and Juliet to look at, but there was passion there, real passion. Take one man who feels he's too ugly to get a woman and one virgin and that's an explosive mixture. When Rice found out she'd been sleeping with Bladen, it must have nearly broken his heart. History repeating itself. First Greta, then Josephine. But Josephine is back in his arms again. She's not shocked he's killed Bladen. Now they are bound even more closely by the crime and still more after the death of poor Mrs Josephs'
He looked about him. 'You wouldn't think when you drive through one of these pretty Cotswold villages how much terror and passion and anger can lurk beneath the beams of these old cottages. You know, Agatha, Lacey's an odd bird. Some of these army chaps are. He's only in his fifties, not dead old for these days'
'Thank you' said Agatha drily.
If he'd been married, he might be an easier mark, but these army bachelors, well, it's as if they've come out of the monastery. Play it cool and he'll come around'
1 have no interest in him' said Agatha evenly.
'I think you have too much interest in him and that's what frightened him off' said Bill.
'Oh, really, so young and so wise. What's your love life like?'
'Pretty good. You know the Safeways supermarket in Mircester?'
'Yes'
"There's a pretty girl called Sandra works at the check-out. We've been dating'
"That's nice' said Agatha, who felt obscurely jealous.
'So I'd better go. Keep away from murders, Agatha!'
After he had left, Agatha drove down to the Batsford Garden Centre at the bottom of Bourton-on-the-Hill and looked at flowers and plants. They also had full-grown trees. Instant garden, that was the answer. But just a little to start. Something for the borders round the grass at the back and a hanging basket of flowers for the front of the cottage. She bought some Busy Lizzies and pansies and decided she would get started by planting them.
The work was relaxing and the cats played about her in the sunlight and she was so absorbed in her work that it took her some time to realize her doorbell was ringing.
If only it would be ...
But Agatha recoiled a step when she opened the door. Freda Huntingdon stood there.
"What do you want?' asked Agatha crossly.
To bury the hatchet' said Freda. 'Come along to the pub. I feel like getting plastered. I'm sick of men'
Curiosity warred with distaste in Agatha's mind and curiosity won.
'What's happened?'
'Come to the pub and I'll tell you.'
Only the idea that it might have something to do with James drove Agatha into accompanying Freda.
Freda bought them both large gins and they 1 sat down.
| 'I'm thinking of selling up' said Freda. 'Nothing's gone right since I came here.' ' 'You mean Bladen?'
'That and other things. You see, George, my husband, was much older than me, but oodles of money. We used to travel a lot, go to exotic places. But George kept a strict eye on me and I used to think of all the freedom I'd have if he dropped dead and left me the money.
'Well, he did. I had a couple of unfortunate affairs, and so I thought to hell with it; I'll move to the Cotswolds, get myself a dinky cottage and look around for another husband. I got my eye on Lacey. Sorry I was such a bitch, but I really fancied him, but not a hope there. That business with Bladen threw me. I really believed he was head over heels in love with me. I really believed all that rubbish about that hospital. When George was alive, I thought I was the clever, worldly, shrewd one, but it was George who had the brains. Then Tony came along. That chap you saw me with in the pub. No Adonis, but good business, Gloucester way. His wife called on me yesterday. His wife! And he swore he was a widower' Freda snivelled dismally. 'I'm just a stupid old tart'
'You need another big gin' said Agatha, ever practical.
James Lacey read over again what he had written and groaned. Thanks to his experiences in the Bladen case, he had thought he would write a mystery story. How easily the words had come. How rapidly the thousands of little green words had built up on the screen of his computer. But it was as if a mist had cleared. He was looking down at pages of total rubbish.
The windows of his cottage were all open because it was a hot day. From next door, he could hear the sound of voices and the clink of glasses and china. He went out into his garden and peered over the hedge. Bill Wong and Agatha were sitting having lunch and absorbed in conversation. He wished he could go and join them, but he had been cool to Agatha, had snubbed her, and now he had cut himself off.
He returned to the house and pottered about miserably. Later he heard Bill leave and shortly after that, he saw Agatha driving off.
He went back out into his garden in the afternoon and began to weed the flower-beds. He heard movement from Agatha's garden and once more looked over. She was planting a row of pansies. He was sure she didn't know anything about gardening. If he hadn't been so stupid, he could have strolled over for a chat. But really! All those women expecting him to propose! And Agatha herself, the way she had looked at him.
But on the other hand, she had nearly been killed. He had misread her looks before. It was all the fault of that bloody captain's wife in Cyprus. He should never have had an affair with her. What a scandal that had been. She had pursued him, flirted with him, but when the scandal had broken, he was the guilty party, the beast that had seduced her and tried to take her away from her noble and gallant husband.
He settled down to read a detective story by Reginald Hill and found it depressingly good.
In the evening, he heard the sound of noisy singing coming along the lane.
Puzzled, he went out and stood in the evening air on his doorstep.
Lurching along the lane, arms about each other, singing, 'I Did It My Way', came Agatha and Freda Huntingdon.
When they came abreast of him, they stopped singing. Freda hiccuped and said, "Men!' and Agatha Raisin grinned and gave James Lacey the victory sign, but the wrong way round.
James retreated inside and banged the door as, laughing and shouting, the unlikely pair went on their way.
FB2 document info
Document ID: 338f53f4-a322-4945-af90-5fcb960b6e97
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 15.9.2012
Created using: calibre 0.8.69, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
M.C. Beaton
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