by M C Beaton
Then Daisy called, "Come and join us."
Agatha shook her head, smiled and said good night.
As she undressed in her room, she began to speculate about a future with Jimmy. Mrs. Jessop, she repeated to herself as she ran her bath. I could be Mrs. Jessop and I will ask James Lacey to give me away. So there!
Sunday was a glorious day, all wind and glitter. It had rained heavily the day before and now everything was drying out in the sun. It was a yellow day, watery yellow sunlight shining in puddles and dancing on the choppy waves of the sea.
Agatha experienced a feeling of relief as they drove away from the hotel. In bad weather, as on the day before, the hotel became oppressive, like being locked away in a time warp. Although the others were friendly enough, the women no longer asked her advice on clothes or make-up and the colonel no longer seemed interested in outings to the theatre or anywhere else. The days are passing, thought Agatha as Jimmy drove his Volvo Polo along the coast road. I wonder if James Lacey misses me.
"So you haven't heard from her?" James Lacey was saying after church to Mrs. Bloxby. "And yet there's been another murder. I thought she might have come home to have a look at her cats. Then I thought she might have phoned me to consult me about the murders."
"You haven't been exactly friendly with Mrs. Raisin," said Mrs. Bloxby. "Why don't you drive down and see her?"
"I might do that," said James. "Yes, I might just do that."
After three hours driving, he arrived at Wyckhadden and went straight to the Garden Hotel. He was told at the desk that Mrs. Raisin had gone out and they did not know when she was expected back. "Mrs. Raisin?" said a tall, elderly man who had been passing the desk.
"Yes, Colonel," said the manager. "This gentleman is asking for Mrs. Raisin."
"Gone out with her boyfriend," said the colonel. "That inspector."
James Lacey did not wait. There was no point. Agatha had always been a damned flirt.
"So that's the real story of why we didn't get married," Agatha was saying later over dinner. "It wasn't just because my husband turned up at the wedding. I really think James didn't care for me at all."
"I hate to say this, Agatha," said Jimmy, "but you're right. If he had really loved you, he would have married you when everything settled down."
They had talked all day with an easy companionship. Agatha was beginning to think more and more that marriage to Jimmy might be pleasant. There had to come a point in life to put away immature dreams of love and settle for friendship.
She only wished she could stop playing scenes over and over in her head where James would be shocked and jealous when he learned of her forthcoming marriage.
As Jimmy drove slowly back to Wyckhadden, Agatha said, "There's a fairground."
In a field beside the road ahead of them was the fairground, the lights sparkling against the night sky. They had passed it on their road out but it had been silent and deserted.
"Want to take a look around?" asked Jimmy. "It's probably crawling with Francie Juddle's relatives."
"I like fairgrounds," said Agatha.
"Then let's go." He drove off the road and into the carpark.
"Not many people."
"Wrong time of year, and there was a terrible weather forecast."
"I'm surprised it's open on a Sunday," said Agatha as they walked between the booths.
"They are always open. They stay closed until late in the afternoon on a Sunday, the idea being that everybody's had time to go to church. What do you want to try? It's one of those old-fashioned fairs. Not much in the way of exciting rides."
"There's a Ferris wheel," said Agatha, pointing upwards. "I'd like to try that."
"It's late. Some of the things are closing already. But we'll try."
The Ferris wheel was still operating. Jimmy paid for two tickets and they climbed into one of the seats. The man who had sold them the tickets fastened a safety bar across their chair.
"We're the only ones," said Agatha. "I wonder if he'll bother operating it. They sat for about five minutes with nothing happening. "Let's get off," Jimmy was just saying when, with a jerk, the Ferris wheel started up. The wheel sent them climbing higher. "The wind's getting strong," said Agatha, clutching Jimmy's arm.
Then, when their chair lurched and swung to the top, the wheel suddenly stopped dead.
"They often do this," said Jimmy, putting an arm around Agatha. "It'll start up in a minute."
A great gust of wind sent the chair rocking. Jimmy leaned over the edge. "What's happening?" he shouted, but the increasing wind tore his words away.
Agatha clung on to him. A blast of icy rain hit her cheek. Ahead of her she could see the lights of Wyckhadden and then, as if a hand had drawn a great veil over the town, it was swallowed up in the approaching storm.
The chair they were sitting on began to bucket and lurch. Down below, the lights of the fairground were beginning to go off one by one. Then the lights on the Ferris wheel went out, leaving them stranded in the increasing ferocity and blackness of the storm.
Jimmy held Agatha close and said, "I'm going to climb down. You stay here and hang on like grim death." He loosened the protective bar in front of them and lifted it.
"Don't leave me," shouted Agatha.
"I've got to get down." He shrugged off his coat and then kicked off his shoes.
He swung himself out of the chair and began to climb down the struts of the Ferris wheel. Agatha leaned over to try to watch him but the chair gave another huge lurch and she screamed and hung on with both hands.
What a way to die, she thought miserably. She wanted to drag Jimmy's coat over her but was frightened to loosen her grip on the chair. She prayed desperately, the soldier's prayer. "Dear God, if there is a God, get me out of this!"
She was now drenched to the skin. How long since Jimmy had started to climb down? Ten minutes? An hour?
Why hadn't she worn gloves? Her fingers were becoming numb. What if she couldn't hold on any longer? She raised one hand and struggled to find the bar and fasten it back in front of her but the swaying of the chair was so violent that she gave up the attempt.
Oh, James, wailed her mind, will I ever see you again? What will happen to my cats?
And then she felt herself falling and let out a long wail of terror.
But then her panic receded. The Ferris wheel was starting to move. Down and down she went. Blue lights were beginning to flicker along the coast road. Jimmy had a mobile phone in the car. He must have called for help.
And then the Ferris wheel lurched to a halt and there was Jimmy with several fairground people. And suddenly the fairground was full of police cars and an ambulance.
"You're going straight to hospital," said Jimmy.
"I'm all right," said Agatha, through chattering teeth.
"You might be suffering from hypothermia."
"What happened?"
"I'll let you know as soon as I can," said Jimmy.
SIX
AGATHA awoke in hospital in Hadderton the following morning. The sleepy policewoman, Trul, was sitting beside her bed.
Agatha struggled up against the pillows. "So what happened?" she asked.
"The man operating the Ferris wheel said it jammed and he went to get help."
"What!" Agatha was outraged. "I don't believe that for a moment. Inspector Jessop had to climb all the way down that Ferris wheel in a storm because we were up there for ages."
The policewoman rose. "Now you're awake, do you feel strong enough to make a statement?"
"I feel fine. What's the medical verdict?"
"You were not suffering from hypothermia but you may be suffering from shock. I'll get Detective Sergeant Peter Carroll. He's outside."
Carroll came in. "Now, if you will begin at the beginning and tell me in your own words what happened," he said, drawing out a notebook.
"I'm hardly likely to tell you in anyone else's words," said Agatha crossly. She described succinctly how the Ferris wheel ha
d stopped when they were right at the top. "Before the storm blotted everything out," said Agatha, "I could see the lights in the fairground below going out. To me it looked as if they were packing up for the night and going to leave us up there."
"That will be all for the moment," said Carroll, closing his notebook.
"Can I leave?"
"That's between you and the hospital."
"Then send in a nurse!"
When Carroll had left and had been replaced by a nurse, Agatha said she wanted to sign herself out. There was a long wait for a doctor and then all the forms to sign before her still-damp clothes were produced. They might at least have dried them, thought Agatha huffily.
She went out of the hospital, where steady rain was falling, and waited for the cab she had ordered. She began to feel very weak and shaky but she was determined to get back to the hotel. She took out the tranquillizers they had given her and threw them in a waste bucket beside the hotel entrance. In Agatha's experience, all tranquillizers did was delay shock and misery.
The cab arrived and she was driven the short distance to the hotel in Wyckhadden. She went straight up to her room and ran a hot bath, stripped off her clothes, and soaked in it, wondering all the while if some of Francie's relatives were responsible for her death and had tried to get the inspector out of the way. But she decided, as she towelled herself dry, that did not make sense. The fairground people must know that had Jimmy been killed, then they would have been plagued with police investigations until the end of time, not to mention a charge of manslaughter.
She realized she was hungry and it was lunch-time. She went down to the dining-room.
The rest were just finishing their meals. "We were looking for you last night," the colonel called over.
"I was nearly killed," said Agatha. She told them about her adventure on the Ferris wheel, half expecting them to shy away from the subject, but they all came crowding around her table, demanding details.
"Probably revenge," said the colonel when Agatha had finished.
"For what?"
"Oh, I remember when Jessop was in charge of a crackdown on that fairground, charged them with gluing down the coconuts on the shy and bending the sights of the rifles."
Agatha felt disappointed. "I had hoped their behaviour might have had something to do with the murders."
"Titanic is showing at the cinema in Wyckhadden," said the colonel. "We all thought of going."
"Why not?" said Agatha wearily. This lot were never going to discuss the murders and the idea of losing herself in a long film and forgetting about mayhem and murder was tempting. "When did you plan to go?"
"We're going to the matinee. Special rates for old age pensioners."
"That leaves me out," said Agatha tartly.
"If you say so," remarked the colonel, and Agatha looked at his old face quickly for signs of malice but it showed nothing.
Left to eat, Agatha carefully sliced a line down the middle of her plate and ate half. Once, in an attempt to up-market her reading, she had read Muriel Spark's A Far Cry From Kensington. In it, the heroine had figured out that if she ate only half of everything on her plate, she would lose weight. That had struck Agatha as being eminently sensible and she was hardly likely to starve, a half of the hotel's portions being the equivalent of any other hotel's full meal.
She was just finishing her coffee when old Harry popped his head round the door and said they were ready to leave. Agatha was travelling in one taxi with Harry and Daisy, the colonel in the one in front with Mary and Jennifer. Daisy squeezed Agatha's arm and whispered, "Come to my room later. I must speak to you."
Agatha nodded. At last! A crack in the silence.
The cinema was in the middle of the promenade and packed with old people. To Agatha's surprise, a haze of cigarette smoke was drifting in front of the screen. By all that was holy, a cinema which still allowed smoking. She was fumbling in her bag for her cigarettes when she realized with a sort of wonder that she had not smoked once or thought of it while she was out with Jimmy. She kept her handbag firmly closed and concentrated on the screen, which was showing advertisements for local businesses.
The film was one of those ones the Americans ruin by insisting on putting 1990s values onto historical events. The hero was miles too young to interest Agatha. But the special effects were stupendous. In fact, Agatha could swear, just as the Titanic hit that iceberg, that she could feel the water lapping around her feet. Then there was shouts and curses. There was water lapping about her feet.
"Must be an exceptionally high tide," Agatha heard the colonel say. "We'd better leave by the back door."
The audience were filing out, apart from a few stalwarts who had put their feet up on the seat in front. The film was still running. They all filed outside into the pouring rain.
"Let's have a look at the sea," said Jennifer. "We're all wet anyway."
They walked down a side street towards the promenade. Huge waves were crashing onto the promenade and sweeping up the street.
"Does this often happen?" asked Agatha.
"Every so often," said Mary. "It's a wonder the foundations of that cinema haven't been removed."
They made their way to the hotel around the back streets. "Will the hotel be flooded?" asked Agatha.
"The sea is never so ferocious along at the pier," said Harry, "and the staff always put out sandbags."
They walked down a side street leading to the hotel. "Look at that!" cried Agatha as a huge wave crashed right over the dance hall at the end of the pier. "Surely it can't withstand a battering like that."
"Tide'll be turning soon," said the colonel.
Sure enough, sandbags had been piled up in front of the hotel. Agatha went up to her room to change into dry tights and shoes. How very British we all are, she thought as she dried her feet. No one demanded their money back. I bet no one's even written to the newspapers suggesting the cinema should be located at the back of the town. No, all they'll say is, "We often have weather like this. It doesn't last long. Mustn't grumble."
There was a knock at the door. Agatha slipped on a pair of slippers and opened it. Daisy stood there. "Oh, you wanted a word with me," said Agatha eagerly. "Do come in."
Daisy came in and closed the door behind her. She sat down in a chair by the window. "Such dreadful rain," she murmured.
"Would you like tea or something?" asked Agatha.
"No, I just want to talk."
Agatha sat on the bed. "So talk, Daisy."
Daisy looked out again at the pouring rain. "Did you enjoy the film?"
"All right until we got washed out. Is that what you wanted to discuss? The film?"
"No, no, of course not." Daisy plucked nervously at her skirt. She's a bag of nerves, thought Agatha. It must be something about the murders.
Agatha waited patiently. Then Daisy said, "You went off for a drink with the colonel last night."
"I did not," said Agatha crossly. "Last night I was freezing to death at the top of a Ferris wheel."
"I'm sorry. I forgot. Of course, it was the evening before that. I saw you go off with the colonel."
"We went for one drink, that's all."
Daisy clasped her hands and looked beseechingly at Agatha. "Are you keen on him?"
"Colonel Lyche? No, frankly. Too old for me."
"But why did you go off with him?"
"I wanted to ask him about the murders. Look here, Daisy, I find it most odd that there have been two murders committed and yet none of you ever want to discuss them."
"Murder is not a thing ladies discuss," said Daisy primly.
Agatha looked at her in exasperation. "Is that really all you wanted to talk to me about? I mean, to warn me off the colonel."
"I never--"
"I mean," said Agatha, her tone softening, "you are keen on the colonel and you thought I might take him away from you."
"Yes."
"Well, the colonel has no interest in me whatsoever."
"But
I saw you walking on the pier and he took your arm."
"He's a gentleman. It was a gentlemanly thing to do. That's all. How long have you been keen on the colonel?"
"Years," said Daisy sadly.
"Have you ever thought of asking him out for a drink?"
"Oh, no, I couldn't!"
"Why?"
"Ladies don't."
"This is the nineties. They do now," said Agatha. "Look, that Gilbert and Sullivan company has moved to Hadderton. You could get a couple of tickets and say they were given to you by a friend, and would he like to use the other ticket?"
"I'll try that," said Daisy, her eyes shining.
"Do you ever read any magazines?" asked Agatha curiously.
"Yes, I read newspaper supplements and sometimes Good Housekeeping."
"Not Cosmopolitan?"
"No. Why?"
"Just wondered," said Agatha, who had been thinking about all the raunchy articles on sex that appeared in women's magazines these days. "Go for it, Daisy. At least you'll have an evening on your own with him."
Daisy had just left when the phone rang. It was Jimmy, who said he was downstairs and would like to see her.
Agatha deftly applied a fresh coat of make-up, put on high heels instead of her slippers and made her way downstairs.
"How are you?" asked Jimmy with that warm smile of his which always lifted Agatha's heart.
"I don't seem to have suffered any damage at all," said Agatha cheerfully. "Although I do seem fated to get wet." She told him about her visit to the cinema.
"Let's go into the lounge and have a drink," said Jimmy. "I took a look. No one's in there now."
They walked in and sat down in front of the fire. "I've got an exciting bit of news. Someone's turned himself in."
"You've got the murderer!" The waiter appeared. Jimmy ordered drinks. When he had gone, Jimmy said, "No, not the murderer. Some small-bit actor has confessed doing voices for Francie and Janine. They would describe the sort of voice they wanted. We found a pretty elaborate sound system in a lockup that Francie had rented on the outside of the town."
