Agatha Raisin: There Goes The Bride

by Beaton, M. C.

  ‘What on earth are the Bross-Tilkingtons doing with four Alsatians?’

  ‘They seem to be pretty rich. People get nervous these days.’ Harry took out a handkerchief and lifted the latch. ‘My dad had an Alsatian once. They’re really all right. Stand back! All they’ll want is food.’

  The gate swung open. The dogs sniffed. The evening air was full of the smells of food.

  The four dogs moved slowly out of the kennels. Then, moving as one dog, they leaped forward.

  ‘Poor James looks as if he wants to die,’ said Bill Wong as a roll of drums heralded the start of the raffle.

  Felicity’s mother, Olivia, walked up to a microphone in front of the band. She was a square-built sort of woman draped in peach silk. Her hair was so white and so rigidly lacquered it looked like a steel helmet.

  ‘Now, ladies,’ she began. ‘The moment you have all been waiting for.’ Beside her, with cheesy grins on their faces, stood five Naked Servants.

  And then the dogs erupted into the tent. One jumped on the buffet table while the others scrabbled to join it, finally pulling down the white tablecloth and sending plates of food flying. Guests were screaming and fleeing from the tent. Felicity’s father was shouting for someone called Jerry.

  Outside the tent, the guests were making rapidly for their cars and soon the night air was full of the sound of revving engines.

  Agatha found Toni at her elbow. ‘Let’s get out of here,’ said Toni breathlessly.

  ‘You didn’t, did you?’

  ‘Don’t ask. Just get in the car,’ said Toni.

  ‘What I don’t understand,’ said Agatha when she and Toni were lying in their beds later that night, ‘is why James let things get so far?’

  ‘Maybe because he and Felicity were travelling a lot. He maybe didn’t know just how awful his future in-laws would prove to be,’ said Toni, stifling a yawn. ‘I mean, those Alsatians! You’d think a good burglar alarm system would be enough.’

  ‘I wish tomorrow were over,’ moaned Agatha. ‘I wish I had a hat to hide under. I might nip out early tomorrow and see if I can buy one. Where’s this church, anyway?’

  ‘It’s called Saint Botolph’s,’ said Toni sleepily. ‘Right in the centre of the village. We can’t miss it. I saw it when we were driving to the party.’

  ‘James doesn’t want to get married now,’ said Agatha. ‘He told me.’

  ‘Then why doesn’t he just do a runner?’ asked Toni.

  ‘He’s in too deep,’ said Agatha miserably. ‘I could kill that girl.’

  Toni awoke next morning. There was a note on her pillow. ‘Gone hat hunting. If I’m late, don’t worry. I’ll take a cab to the church. Agatha.’

  Agatha had done a lot for Toni. She had rescued her from a drunken home and had found her a flat and a car. So Toni felt slightly guilty at enjoying being free of Agatha’s often domineering presence for a short time at least.

  She washed and changed into a straw-coloured raw-silk suit. Toni glanced at the clock. No sign of Agatha. She didn’t want to be late getting to the church. She had found out last night that there hadn’t been a field set aside for the parking and because she was wearing very high-heeled sandals, she wanted to get as near the church as possible.

  At last she decided to leave. She met Bill Wong, who was staying at The Jolly Farmer as well.

  ‘Where’s Agatha?’ he asked.

  ‘Gone to buy a hat. She said not to wait for her. She’s taking a cab.’

  ‘Is she bearing up? I think she’s hating all this.’

  ‘No, she’s fine.’

  ‘Had you anything to do with letting those dogs out?’ demanded Bill.

  ‘Me? No, of course not. You’re not on duty now, Bill.’

  ‘Those dogs could have savaged someone.’

  ‘But they didn’t, did they?’

  ‘No,’ said Bill. ‘Some sort of kennel man appeared and took them off.’

  Outside the pub, Toni said hurriedly, ‘I’ve got to dash. I hope Agatha makes it on time.’

  It was a warm spring day with only a few fleecy clouds on a pale blue sky. But despite the warmth of the day, the old church was cold and damp inside. Toni joined the Cotswold contingent, answering muttered demands as to where Agatha had got to.

  James appeared from the vestry with his best man, an old army friend, Tim Harrant. The vicar took his place. The organ played softly.

  ‘I’ll go out and see if I can find Agatha,’ whispered Roy, who was wearing a white suit and a white Panama hat.

  ‘He looks like the man from Del Monte about to say “yes”,’ muttered Harry.

  The organ played on. The congregation shifted restlessly. There was a new arrival, but it was only the family’s French friend, Sylvan Dubois.

  Suddenly Roy appeared, shouting from the church entrance, ‘She’s coming!’

  The organ music died away and the church was suddenly filled with the strains of ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’.

  Heads twisted round and then turned back in disappointment as only Agatha Raisin walked in, wearing a peculiar sort of toque embellished with pheasant’s feathers.

  She and Roy squeezed into the pew next to Toni. ‘What’s happening?’ hissed Agatha. ‘Where’s the bride?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ said Bill. He turned and looked at the entrance. ‘Here comes trouble. Toni, if you had anything to do with letting those dogs out, you’re in for it now.’

  Alarmed, Toni watched as a plain-clothes officer, followed by several policemen, walked up the aisle. The detective bent his head over Olivia Bross-Tilkington and said something. Her sudden shriek rose up to the hammer-beam ceiling.

  Then the detective faced the congregation. ‘Miss Bross-Tilkington has met with an accident,’ he said. ‘I want you to give your names to these police officers, but do not leave the area until we tell you, and hold yourselves ready for questioning.’

  The vicar was trying to console Olivia Bross-Tilkington. Her frantic eyes raked the congregation, settling on Agatha, who had taken off her hat.

  ‘That’s her!’ she screamed. ‘Murderess! You killed my daughter!’

  She burst into noisy tears and was led off into the vestry by the vicar.

  A table was carried to the entrance. Three policemen sat down behind it and began to take names and addresses as people left the church.

  Agatha slowly approached the table and started to give her name and address but only got as far as Agatha Raisin.

  ‘Go back into the church and sit down until we are ready for you, Mrs Raisin,’ said the policeman.

  Dazed, Agatha went back and slumped down in a pew. What on earth had happened?

  Agatha’s friends waited in the pub lounge bar for news. Bill Wong had said he would stay behind and find out what had happened.

  The vicar, Mr Bloxby, said impatiently, ‘Trust Mrs Raisin to get us into a mess.’

  ‘It’s got nothing to do with her,’ protested Toni. ‘She was out buying a hat.’

  Bill Wong came in. ‘Felicity’s been shot,’ he said.

  There was a general cry of dismay.

  ‘So where’s Agatha?’ asked Roy.

  ‘She won’t be long.’

  ‘Who on earth could possibly have shot Felicity?’ asked Toni.

  ‘Need to wait for the police to get some ideas,’ said Bill.

  ‘Isn’t someone going to buy a drink?’ asked Charles. ‘I could do with one.’

  ‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Roy. ‘Mine’s a vodka and Red Bull.’

  ‘I didn’t mean me,’ said Charles. ‘There are too many of you.’

  ‘We’ll each buy our own,’ said Bill. He signalled to the barmaid. After he had given his own order, he went outside and phoned Mircester police headquarters on his mobile phone and explained that he might have to stay on for another day. He wanted to go back to the police station, but had been firmly sent away and told it was not his territory.

  At Mircester police headquarters, Detective Inspector Wil
kes said to Detective Sergeant Collins, ‘You take over the burglaries on the south side.’

  ‘What’s happened to Wong?’

  Wilkes told her.

  Collins’s eyes gleamed with malice. ‘That Raisin female probably did it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I happened to be passing Bill’s room and overheard him protesting that Agatha had not been stalking her ex-husband. But he would say that anyway, being a friend of hers. Now there’s a motive for murder.’

  ‘Well, while we wait for more news, Collins, go about your duties, which, I may add, do not include listening in to other people’s private conversations.’

  After two hours had passed and Agatha still had not put in an appearance, Bill Wong could not bear it any longer and left them to see if he could find out anything more.

  ‘It’s a good thing it’s a Saturday,’ commented Toni. ‘We’ve got detective agencies to run. We’ve all got to be back by Monday.’

  The day dragged on. They all went through to the pub dining room for dinner, with the exception of Patrick Mulligan. He was a retired policeman and said maybe he could get someone along at the station to tell him what was happening to Agatha. In the past, he had proved amazing at getting the police to open up to him.

  After dinner, they wearily went back to the bar. Just when they were all about to retire to bed, Patrick reappeared, looking grim.

  ‘They’re holding Agatha and James for questioning,’ he said.

  ‘Why?’ demanded Charles. ‘Surely they must know neither of them could have done it.’

  Patrick shook his head. ‘They’ve decided they might have been in it together. They’re waiting for the full results of the autopsy. But they think it was a bullet from a gun fired through the window. The window was wide open and there’s a big tree outside. They reckon someone climbed up that tree and shot her.

  ‘Her father said that Felicity was in her wedding gown. She had gone up to her room to make sure her make-up was okay. He heard a shot but evidently people are always shooting rabbits and things in the woods round here, and Felicity’s room is at the back of the house.’

  ‘What about the bridesmaids? Surely they heard something?’ said Roy.

  ‘They had gone ahead to the church. Dad gets impatient and goes up to see what’s keeping his daughter and finds her dead.’

  ‘That Frenchman,’ said Charles. ‘He was late getting to the church.’

  ‘Sylvan Dubois? He’s got a cast-iron alibi. About the time they reckon she was being killed, he was filling up his car at a garage just outside Downboys and he’s recorded on the CCTV camera as clear as day. He drives a bright red Jaguar. Plenty of people noticed it on the road from the garage to the church.’

  ‘But couldn’t he have filled up the car, gone and killed Felicity and then appeared in the church?’ asked Toni.

  ‘He was seen hurrying from his car straight to the church,’ said Patrick. ‘No one saw him anywhere near the house.’

  ‘They can’t hold James,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘His best man was surely with him all morning.’

  ‘Ah, this is where it gets worse. He was seen walking and talking with Agatha in Downboys very early this morning.’

  Charles half-rose. ‘I’d better get along there and make sure Agatha has a lawyer.’

  ‘Her lawyer’s arriving tomorrow and she’s now refused to answer any more questions until he gets here. One of those wretched Naked Servants gave damning evidence that he overheard James saying he wished he could get out of the wedding, to which Agatha suggested, “Shoot her?”’

  A groan went up. Toni turned to Harry. ‘I’m staying down here as long as it takes to get Agatha out of that police station.’ She turned to Patrick. ‘If they’re still keeping her tomorrow, you’d better go back with Phil and Mrs Freedman to keep things going. I hate the Bross-Tilkingtons,’ she said passionately. ‘I hate their stupid vulgar gossiping Naked Servants. What sort of people keep four Alsatians around?’

  Roy shifted uneasily in his seat. He owed his present position as a public relations officer for a City firm to the training and help he had got from Agatha when he used to work for her. Agatha had grown tired of the public relations business, and before setting up her own detective agency had sold up in London to take early retirement. ‘I’ve got an important meeting,’ he said. ‘I can’t stay after tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, piss off then, you wanker,’ snapped Toni, her carefully elocuted vowels slipping back into her former local accent.

  ‘Well, I never.’ Roy got to his feet and stalked off.

  ‘We’re all upset,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘There is nothing more we can do tonight. Let’s all go to bed.’

  But Roy came back flanked by two detectives. One approached them and said, ‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Boase. This is Detective Sergeant Falcon. This is a very serious case. The Bross-Tilkingtons are much respected in this area. We need to take statements from all of you. The owner of this pub has said we may use his office.’ He consulted a list. ‘Miss Toni Gilmour?’

  Toni stood up. ‘Come with us.’

  Toni followed them into the pub office, a small room furnished with a metal desk, two plastic chairs, three filing cabinets, and a large safe. On the wall behind the desk was a badly executed picture of the Sussex Downs.

  Boase was a tall man with a sagging grey face, grey hair and weak, watery eyes. Falcon was smaller and plump with black hair and surprising large blue eyes.

  ‘Now, Miss Gilmour,’ began Falcon, ‘what were your movements leading up to the wedding?’

  Toni told him. Boase took out a cigarette and lit it and puffed a cloud of smoke up to fog the large no smoking sign on the wall.

  ‘Do you still have the note Mrs Raisin left you?’

  ‘I’m sure I have,’ said Toni.

  ‘We’ll get it from you later. Now, we have reason to believe that Mrs Raisin was not happy about this marriage, that she is still obsessive about her ex-husband.’

  ‘I don’t know of any reason to think that.’

  ‘Are you aware that Mrs Raisin followed Mr Lacey as far as the Ukraine and then Turkey?’

  ‘No, I was not,’ said Toni, taken aback. Agatha had merely told her that she had gone on holiday to Turkey, but nothing about having seen James anywhere. ‘I certainly knew she had gone to Turkey on holiday, to Istanbul. But she had been there before and is fond of the city.’

  The questioning went on. How long had she worked for Agatha before setting up a detective agency of her own?

  A tape recorder hummed on the desk. Toni began to feel really frightened for Agatha.

  ‘Who would you say is Mrs Raisin’s closest friend?’

  ‘We are all close friends,’ said Toni, ‘but I suppose you could say that Mrs Bloxby is the closest.’

  ‘We’ll have her in. Do not leave Hewes until we give you permission to do so.’

  As Mrs Bloxby was told to go to the office, Toni sank down in a chair and said, ‘We’d better get out in the morning and see if we can find out where she bought that hat. Then we’ll try and trace her movements from there.’

  ‘Do they really want to waste time interviewing all of us?’ asked Charles.

  ‘Looks like it,’ said Toni. ‘I’m going to bed so I’ll be fresh enough in the morning to do some detective work. Let’s say we all meet for breakfast at eight o’clock – that’s us detectives – me, Harry, Patrick and Phil. What about you, Charles?’

  Charles smiled lazily. ‘I’m not a detective.’

  Toni thought that she had never been able to figure Sir Charles out. He was a beautifully tailored figure of a man with neat features and fair hair. He was as self-contained as a cat. He came and went in Agatha’s life as he pleased. Bill had told Toni that he thought Charles and Agatha had once had an affair but Toni had never been able to see any signs of it.

  Bill tossed and turned that night. When he had phoned his headquarters again to say that he should be back in Mircester by Monday, Wilkes had demand
ed to know why he had been overheard saying Mrs Raisin had not been stalking her husband. Bill had described Agatha’s visit to the two battlefields and said it was because Agatha was competitive and wanted to impress her ex with her military knowledge. The fact that James Lacey had been there around the same time was sheer coincidence. Now, he felt he had been disloyal to Agatha.

  He wanted to stay on but had been told firmly by Boase that his help was not needed. As Bill had left the Hewes police station, he had seen Patrick deep in conversation with the desk sergeant. He had been going to approach him and then decided to leave Patrick to it.

  They all met in the dining room in the morning. Toni had a copy of the Yellow Pages and was marking off all shops likely to sell hats.

  The dining room door opened and a familiar voice said, ‘Pour me a cup of black coffee, someone. I’m knackered.’

  They all stared with a mixture of relief and amazement as none other than Agatha Raisin walked up to their table.

  ‘Where’s the hat?’ asked Roy and then gave a nervous giggle as Agatha’s bearlike eyes focused on him.

  ‘They’re holding it as evidence,’ said Agatha. ‘Coffee, please. I wish I could have a cigarette. Stupid nanny state.’

  ‘So what happened?’ asked Toni. ‘Did your lawyer get you out?’

  ‘No, my stupid hat got me out. I bought it in Delia’s Modes in the High Street. The salesgirl told me it was just like the one that the Duchess of Cornwall had worn for the French president’s visit to Windsor.’

  ‘It certainly looked like roadkill,’ sniggered Roy.

  ‘It looked all right in the shop,’ snapped Agatha. ‘Anyway, I still had time to go back to the pub and accompany Toni, but I wanted to be on my own to think. I got a cab out to Downboys and was going for a walk when I met James. We walked and talked. Then his best man came looking for him and they left for the church. I sat down on a bench. I wanted some more time to myself.

  ‘Villagers passed me. A few stopped, looked at my hat, and asked, “Aren’t you going to the church?” The police had been doing a door-to-door in the village after the murder. So they collected evidence that I was where I said I was and the taxi driver confirmed taking me to Downboys. Of course all this took a long time to come in and they were reluctant to release their prime suspect.’