by M C Beaton
"Because she tricked me. I missed my wife dreadfully and I must have been crazy to go to her. Mind you, her potions and ointments seemed to work."
"So what happened?" asked Agatha.
"I really thought it was my wife. That was until the voice that was supposed to be my wife told me that the bit about the eye of the needle in the Bible was true. Said I should give my money to Francie."
"But if a rich man can't enter the kingdom of heaven, how can a rich woman?" I asked.
"Ah, the voice said Francie would send it on to a good cause. That's when I got suspicious. My wife was very thrifty. 'Must save for our old age,' that's what she always said. I reported Francie to the police. But I'd gone along with it for a little, been conned, and felt like a fool. Don't want to talk about the woman. She's dead anyway."
Agatha rolled a large snowball, and with surprising strength in one so old, Harry lifted it onto the base he had formed while he was talking. "Another one for the head," he ordered.
He began to shape the torso into a woman's bust. Agatha watched, amazed, as a snow-woman began to take shape. "Could you go to the games cupboard," asked Harry, "and get me two marbles for eyes? And some make-up for the face?"
"Right. What about hair?"
"Could you find something? Black hair? And do you have an old dress or coat or something?"
Perfectionist, thought Agatha. What happened to the old-fashioned snowman made of three balls of snow and with a carrot for a nose?
She went up to her room and found an Indian blouse which she had decided she did not much like. What to use for hair? He would need to make do with one of her scarves. She picked out a black one and then found a lipstick and blusher. She then went to the games cupboard in the lounge and took two blood-red marbles out of a jar.
Afterwards, as she surveyed Harry's handiwork, she wished she had taken out two blue or grey marbles, for the red effect was sinister. Harry had created a woman with staring red eyes in a snow face like a death mask. With the black scarf draped round her head and the Indian blouse fluttering in the wind, the snow-woman looked remarkably lifelike and ghoulish.
A gong sounded from the hotel. "Lunch!" said Harry. "Let's get to the dining- room before the rest of them. I want to see their reactions."
They left their coats in the lounge and hurried into the dining-room.
Daisy, Mary, Jennifer and the colonel came in together.
The colonel stopped dead. "By George," he said. "Would you look at that!"
Outside the window the red marble eyes glared in at them from the white face and the black scarf moved in the wind and the blouse fluttered. In that moment, Agatha realized the snow-sculpted features bore a remarkable resemblance to the dead Francie.
"Is it something out of a carnival?" asked Daisy.
But Mary uttered a moan, put a shaking hand to her lips and fainted dead away.
EIGHT
"THE phones are still down," said the colonel after lunch. Mary was lying down in her room being ministered to by Jennifer.
"I know," said Agatha. "I tried to phone Jimmy."
Agatha was beginning to wonder why Harry had gone out of his way to make his snow figure so much like Francie. And why had he such ability?
"Thought that snow thing of Harry's was in remarkably bad taste," said the colonel. He and Daisy and Agatha were sitting in front of the fire in the lounge.
"I'm amazed, however, at his expertise," said Agatha. "I thought he was going to make a traditional snowman."
"I suppose once a sculptor, always a sculptor."
"What! Harry?" Agatha had fondly imagined that sculptors, however old, would look, well, more bohemian.
"Haven't you ever heard of Henry Berry before?" asked the colonel. "He was quite famous in his day. Doesn't do it anymore. Says he hasn't the strength."
"He seems remarkably strong to me." Agatha remembered the ease with which he had lifted and shaped the heavy snow.
"Anyway, he gave poor Mary a dreadful fright," said Daisy. She winked meaningfully at Agatha and then jerked her head slightly towards the door. Agatha correctly interpreted that to mean that Daisy wanted her to leave her alone with the colonel. But it had started to snow again and the rooms were cold because the central heating wasn't working. Scrabble was all right. She had placed a hot-water bottle on the bed wrapped in a towel and last seen, Scrabble had been comfortably coiled around it.
The manager came in with a portable radio. "I thought you might like to hear the news," he said, putting it down and switching it on. "There is a thaw forecast for this evening. They hope to have electricity restored by this evening as well. Dear me, so much food wasted. We've had to throw a lot of stuff out of the freezers."
The colonel cocked his head. "Listen."
The voice of the news announcer began a catalogue of disasters, of blocked roads and thousands of homes without power. Daisy shifted in her chair and looked at Agatha angrily. You can glare all you want, thought Agatha, but I am not leaving this warm fire. She longed to be able to phone Jimmy and find out if there was anything sinister in Harry's background.
The colonel at last switched off the radio. "Thank you, Mr. Martin. It certainly seems as if there is a thaw coming."
The manager took the radio away. "I think I'll go to my room and get a book." The colonel rose to his feet. Daisy watched him with hungry eyes as he left the lounge. She's getting worse, thought Agatha.
When the colonel had gone, Agatha said, "I know you want me to leave you alone with him, Daisy, but I do not want to go upstairs and sit in a cold bedroom, and it's not as if I can go out for a walk."
"I only wanted a few moments," said Daisy sulkily.
Agatha leaned forward. "If I can give you a bit of advice, Daisy, it's no good being so keen, so needy. It drives the gentlemen away. You'll frighten him off."
"Are you speaking from personal experience?" asked Daisy nastily.
"Yes," said Agatha, thinking of James Lacey. She had even pursued him to Cyprus and a fat lot of good that had done.
"You went out with the colonel," accused Daisy. "I saw you."
"It was you. At the theatre."
"Yes, and he took you out for a drink afterwards, which is more than he did for me."
Agatha sighed. "Look here, Daisy, the reason he felt comfortable with me was because he knows I'm not interested in him. What if he had seen you watching us? You know these potions of Francie's. I've got a bit of love potion left."
"Did you get it to put in the colonel's drink?"
"No, I got it as a bit of a joke, but I'll let you have some."
"Will it work?"
"Haven't you tried it before?" asked Agatha.
"I thought about it but I wanted him to love me for myself. But if you wouldn't mind..."
Agatha got to her feet. "I'll get it before he comes back."
She went up to her room and found the bottle. She must only use a few drops. She wanted to keep some for analysis, along with the hair tonic.
She went back to the lounge. "Could you put it in for me?" whispered Daisy. "I'm terrified I'll get caught."
"Don't rush me," admonished Agatha. "I'll need to wait for the right moment."
* * *
The right moment occurred that very afternoon when they were all gathered round the fire. "Nothing to do but get drunk," mourned the colonel. "Care to join me in a bottle of claret, Harry?"
"Good idea."
"When it arrives, create a distraction," Agatha whispered to Daisy.
Agatha and the rest ordered coffee. Agatha slipped the bottle out of her handbag and into her hand.
The waiter came in carrying a bottle of claret and two glasses. Another elderly waiter creaked in under the weight of coffee-pot, milk and sugar on a heavy silver tray. Everything was placed on the coffee-table in front of the fire. A waiter opened the bottle of wine. "We'll let it breathe for a moment. You lot go ahead with your coffee," said the colonel.
Jennifer poured. Mary sat silently, twisting a handkerc
hief in her fingers. "Are you feeling better, Mary?" asked Agatha.
"Oh, much better," she said in a weak voice. "But I had such a shock. I thought it was the ghost of Francie."
"I didn't set out to make it like anyone," protested Harry. "Just made a woman. Let's have that wine."
The colonel poured two glasses.
"Look!" Daisy jumped to her feet. She ran to the window. "Oh, do come and look at this."
With the exception of Agatha, the others rose and went to the window and crowded behind her, saying, "Where? What?"
Agatha tipped a few drops from the bottle into the colonel's glass. Then she stoppered the bottle and put it in her handbag. She looked quickly at the window. Harry was looking at her. Agatha said, "Anything there? What is it?"
"A sea-gull," said Jennifer in disgust. "Daisy thinks a seagull is a harbinger of sunshine."
"It's only because I haven't seen any until now," said Daisy. "I mean, they haven't been flying in the snow."
"Sensible bird," said the colonel tolerantly as he returned to his chair. "Let's get to that wine, Harry."
"Let me try it first," said Harry. "I'm fussier than you." He raised his glass and took a sip. He wrinkled his nose. "Don't have it, Colonel. It's corked."
"You sure?"
"Yes, and there's nothing worse for the liver than bad wine." Harry pressed the bell on the wall for the waiter. "Take this away and bring us a decent one," he said when the waiter had arrived. "It's corked."
The waiter bowed and removed the bottle and glasses. Agatha looked at Harry and he stared blandly back at her. Had he seen anything?
"While he's bringing us another one," said Harry, getting to his feet again, "let me see if there's anything in that games cupboard to amuse us. He rummaged in the cupboard and then shouted over his shoulder, "There's Monopoly here. Fancy a game?"
"Haven't played that in ages," said Jennifer. "Bring it over."
They all began to play Monopoly. The colonel and Harry drank steadily and then ordered another bottle.
The colonel became tipsy and began to flirt with Mary. Daisy was red with anger but Mary seemed to enjoy the flirtation and was giggling with delight.
At last, after several games, the colonel rose and stretched. "Gottoliedown," he said, making his sentence one slurred word. "Whassat?" He pointed at the window.
"It's a snow-plough," said Agatha, "and the snow's stopped at last."
With that, the lights suddenly came on. "Great," said Agatha. "Let's hope the phones are on as well."
She checked at reception and was told that, yes, the phones were back on. She went up to her room. The whole hotel was filled with creaks and groans as the elderly central heating system cranked into life.
Agatha phoned the police station but was told that Inspector Jessop was out. She hesitated then, wanting to phone Carsely to learn how James had reacted to the news of her engagement, but at the same time not wanting to, for fear of learning that there had been no reaction at all.
She decided to wait a little, had a bath, changed and went down for dinner. After she had eaten the first course, she realized the colonel had not put in an appearance.
"Where's Colonel Lyche?" she asked.
"Probably sleeping it off," said Harry.
"You look all right," said Daisy. "I'm worried."
Harry got to his feet. "Well, dear lady, I will put your mind at rest"
Daisy walked over to Agatha's table. "He didn't drink it, did he?"
"The potion? Not even a sip."
Daisy went back to her table.
After ten minutes, when Harry hadn't appeared, Agatha began to fret. God forbid anything had happened to the colonel.
Daisy threw down her napkin. "I can't bear the waiting. I feel there's something wrong."
"He used to drink like that," said Mary soothingly. "He'll be all right."
But Daisy was already hurrying out.
Agatha picked at her main course, her appetite suddenly gone. Surely nothing had gone wrong. But if it had and if Harry had seen her put that potion in the colonel's glass. ...
A high penetrating scream sounded through the hotel. Agatha carefully put down her knife and fork. Jennifer jumped to her feet, knocking her chair over. She ran from the room, followed by Mary. Agatha stayed where she was, paralysed with dread. The orange lights of a gritter flashed outside the dining-room windows.
At last Agatha rose to her feet, feeling like an old woman. She went out into the hall.
It was empty. No one at the desk, no waiter around.
The silence seemed absolute.
Then an ambulance arrived, followed by two police cars. At the same time, Mr. Martin hurried down the stairs, his face creased up with worry and distress. "Upstairs," he said to the ambulance men when they came in. They darted for the stairs, carrying a stretcher.
The police followed. No Jimmy.
Agatha stood rooted to the ground.
After what seemed an interminable age, the ambulance men reappeared carrying a stretcher. The figure on it was totally covered, the face covered. Behind came Daisy, Jennifer, Mary and Harry. Daisy was being supported by Harry. Behind came the police, with Detective Sergeant Peter Carroll in the lead. At the foot of the stairs, Daisy broke away from Harry.
"Murderess!" she screamed at Agatha. Then she burst into noisy weeping.
And that was when the real nightmare for Agatha began.
That night, Agatha sat on a hard bunk in a cell in Wyckhadden police station and bleakly went over the events of the evening.
Harry Berry had told the police that out of the corner of his eye, when he had joined the others at the window after the colonel had ordered a bottle of claret, he thought he had seen Agatha slip something into the colonel's drink. He had not wanted to make a scene and he had not been sure of what he had seen and so he had decided to say the wine was corked and ask for another bottle. Daisy had told the police that Agatha had insisted on putting drops of a love potion into the colonel's drink. Agatha, Daisy had said, had been romancing the colonel and was jealous of her, Daisy. Therefore Agatha was a poisoner.
Agatha, at first sure that the love potion which had been taken from her handbag, along with every other bottle and jar in her room, was harmless, was beginning to worry. What if the murderer of Francie and Janine had wanted to be rid of the colonel and had doctored that love potion? What if it turned out to contain poison?
Jimmy had not come near her. He had not interviewed her, the superintendent from Hadderton had done that, a cold, hard man with suspicious eyes. Agatha had not been charged but was being kept in for further questioning. She had at last demanded a lawyer. He would be with her in the morning.
Rain pattered at the barred window above her head. God get me out of this, she prayed, and I will return to Carsely and never, ever leave it again.
As she did not know the names of any lawyers in the town, one had been supplied for her and he arrived in the morning. He listened carefully while Agatha outlined what had really happened. He was a middle-aged, tired-looking man with a thin face and gold-rimmed glasses and wearing a shabby suit.
"If that's your story, I would stick to it," he said, when Agatha had finished. "They'll need to charge you this morning or release you. The pathologist has been working all night on the body. These things take time."
"Don't you believe me..." Agatha was starting to say impatiently when the cell door opened and Jimmy came in. He jerked his head at the lawyer and said, "Leave us."
"I cannot do that, Inspector," said the lawyer. "I am representing Mrs. Raisin."
"It's all right," said Agatha. "Leave us."
When they were alone, Jimmy said, "I'm sorry about this. I feel the police over-reacted." He sat down on the bed next to Agatha and held her hand.
"I look a wreck," said Agatha. "They took my handbag away and I've no make-up on. What do you mean, they overreacted?"
"I would say from a look at the colonel that he died of a massive stroke. His f
ace had all slumped down to one side. I think that will turn out to be the case. What on earth were you doing messing with love potions, Agatha?"
"I went to Francie for that hair tonic. She offered that love potion as well and it seemed a bit of a joke at the time. Daisy was going frantic about the colonel. She had seen us at the theatre together and oh, I suppose I wanted to prove to her that I wasn't a bit interested in him. So I told her about the love potion."
"There was only half a bottle left," said Jimmy curiously.
"I started to pour it down the sink and then I thought it might be interesting to keep some and get it analysed when I get home," said Agatha, who had no intention of telling Jimmy she had put some in his drink. "What happens now?"
"They're more or less convinced, Agatha, that Colonel Lyche died of natural causes. You're free to go."
"Jimmy, I not only want to go but I want to go back to Carsely."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, Agatha. You'll need to wait for the definite result of the post-mortem, but it shouldn't be too long."
"How do you put up with me, Jimmy?"
"Because I love you."
Agatha felt a stab of guilt. What right had she to marry someone she didn't love? I do love him, she told herself fiercely, I'm just not in love with him.
"I'll have to keep clear of you until the final results of the post-mortem come through," said Jimmy.
"I understand." Again that stab of guilt because of the feeling of relief she had first felt at his words.
"I'll send a policewoman in to take you through to the desk to collect your things.
"See you," said Agatha wearily.
Agatha emerged from the police station into a watery world. Snow was sliding from roofs to fall with thuds on the street, water ran down the gutters and a mild, frisky wind blew through her hair.
She had hardly slept at all. She had refused the offer of a police car to take her back to the hotel. She opened her handbag and took out her packet of cigarettes, and turning her back to the wind, lit one. A thin, acidulous woman who was passing shouted at her, "Don't you know that's a filthy habit?"
