‘Do you inherit your wife’s money?’ she asked.
‘No, she left it all to her son, Wayne. I only found that out this morning when I phoned the solicitor.’
‘I suppose she hadn’t had time to change her will,’ put in James.
‘That must be it. Geraldine was devoted to me.’
‘Now, the night of the murder,’ said Agatha, ‘you went to sleep as usual. What time was this?’
‘About eleven o’clock in the evening. She was pacing up and down the room. I said, “Come to bed. This isn’t much of a honeymoon.” She said, “Go to sleep. I’ve got to think.” I slept all night and when I awoke, I saw her bed wasn’t slept in and then the police arrived.’
‘They found my scarf round her neck. I lost it. Did she pick it up?’
Fred looked uncomfortable. ‘It was lying on the dining room floor. Yes, she said something about finders, keepers.’
‘Did you tell the police this?’
‘I didn’t like to. I wanted to protect her memory. I didn’t want the police to think of her as a thief.’
‘You’d better tell them now. You could have saved me from enduring hours of questioning. Did she receive a phone call?’
‘No, not that I know of.’
‘Have you a photo of your wedding day?’ asked James.
‘Yes, I have one with me.’ Fred pulled out his wallet and extracted a square photograph. There was Geraldine, slimmer, looking demure in a blue silk tailored suit and a little blue hat with an eye veil.
James handed back the photograph. ‘Immediately after you were married, did she change? When was the wedding?’
‘Four weeks ago. We decided to delay the honeymoon because I had a lot of business to attend to. Did she change? She ate an awful lot and put on weight. Apart from that, she was pretty much the same.’
‘Why Snoth-on-Sea?’ asked Agatha.
‘Geraldine came here as a kid. She said she and her parents were staying at a bed and breakfast. She said the Palace Hotel was ever so posh and she always dreamed of staying there.’
‘Did you know that her second husband was in jail for armed robbery?’
‘No!’ He looked amazed. ‘You see, it was a whirlwind romance.’ He gave a reminiscent smile. ‘She swept me off my feet. We were married a few weeks after I met her. I didn’t have much time to find out who she knew. I didn’t even know she had a son and daughter-in-law until she told me they would be coming on the honeymoon, along with her friend, Cyril, and his wife.’
‘Didn’t you object?’
He shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘I did say something, but she said we would have the rest of our lives together. Then I found out I had to pay for everyone and I wasn’t too pleased. But she hugged me and said, “You can afford it, darling, and it would make me so happy.”’
Agatha wondered what Geraldine had actually said. The foul-mouthed woman had probably bullied the meek Fred into it.
‘So you can’t think of anyone who would want to kill her?’
‘Why would anyone?’ Fred raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘As God is my witness, she hadn’t an enemy in the world.’
She made me one in two seconds flat, thought Agatha.
Neither Agatha nor James could think of anything else to ask him. Fred thanked them and again said he hoped they could find out who had murdered his wife.
As they walked downstairs, James said, ‘Well, that was odd. He doesn’t seem entirely broken up, does he?’
‘Grief takes people in odd ways,’ said Agatha. ‘But no, he did seem unnaturally calm about the whole thing. And he phoned the solicitor. I wonder how much Geraldine was worth.’
Cyril Hammond and his wife, Dawn, were waiting in the bar. ‘Poor Fred,’ said Cyril. ‘How’s he taking it?’
‘Seems to be bearing up pretty well,’ commented Agatha. ‘Now may we have a word with Mrs Hammond on her own?’
Cyril looked about to protest, but then said, ‘Okay, I’ll be up in my room.’
Agatha and James sat down with Dawn. Her hair was an even more ferocious colour of red than when Agatha had first seen her, and she was unnaturally thin, with deep shadows under her eyes and arms like sticks.
‘What about a drink?’ she asked in a throaty voice.
James signalled to the waitress. ‘What would you like?’
‘Vodka and Red Bull.’
James ordered what she wanted, gin and tonic for Agatha and a bottle of beer for himself.
‘We are trying to get a picture of what Mrs Jankers was like,’ began Agatha.
‘Why? You saw her.’
‘I mean her personality, her friends, anyone she was frightened of.’
The drinks arrived. Dawn took a swig of hers and then said, ‘People were frightened of Geraldine, not the other way round. Me, I didn’t want to come on this bleeding honeymoon, but Cyril, he says that Geraldine had pleaded with him to come along. Now, take my word for it, dear Geraldine never pleaded with anyone. But Cyril always had a soft spot for her. You want to know what she was like? A great fat spider, that’s what. Always on the lookout for a fellow with money. Before she married Fred, she was as meek as anything. After they were married, she reverted to her usual shit-mouthed self. I said to Cyril that this whole honeymoon was sick, sick, sick.’
‘Did you know that her second husband was doing time for armed robbery?’
‘Charlie, oh, sure. I knew Charlie. The only thing I liked about that villain was that he knew how to shut Geraldine up. Smacked her across the mouth once.’
‘Who did he rob?’
‘Some jeweller in Lewisham. They got him, but they never found the jewels.’
‘Is he still in prison?’
‘As far as I know.’
‘Who would have wanted to kill Geraldine?’
‘Just about everyone I can think of.’
‘Her husband?’
‘Fred? Naw. Poor little bugger got sandbagged by her. He’s not exactly weeping over her death. But Fred couldn’t hurt anyone.’
‘What about her son?’
‘Wayne? Her own son! Why?’
‘He inherits.’
‘Don’t think she would leave enough to make her own son murder her.’
‘Did you know that Geraldine stole my scarf, the one she was found strangled with?’
‘Who told you that?’
‘Mr Jankers. He said she found it lying in the dining room after we had left.’
‘Now there’s a thing. He left us thinking you must have murdered her.’
James interrupted. ‘As to that, Agatha, I really think we should go along to the police station and tell them. With us in the clear, we can get out of here.’
But after they had said goodbye to Dawn and were walking along in the direction of the police station, Agatha began to fret. Only a short time ago, she had longed to get out of this terrible place and head south to the Mediterranean with James. She tried to conjure up a dream of James holding her in his arms on a hotel balcony overlooking the moonlit sea, but the dream would not come. They would probably have separate rooms, she thought wearily, and no doubt James would run into some old friends and she would be left on the outskirts of some party while they all chattered on about people she did not know.
At the police station, they asked to see Detective Inspector Barret. They were told to wait. Agatha sat down on a bench and suddenly wished she could smoke. She had been trying to cut down, but all the terrible threats about what happened to the health of smokers only made her want to smoke more.
‘Cheer up, Agatha,’ said James. ‘We’ll soon be heading south.’
‘I don’t – ‘Agatha was just beginning when they were told that Barret would see them. They were taken to an interview room.
James gave Agatha a puzzled look. ‘You were starting to say something.’
But at that moment Barret walked in.
He listened in silence as Agatha told him about Mr Jankers’s confession that his wife had actually found Agatha’s scarf
where she had dropped it in the dining room.
‘We’ll need to take another statement from him,’ said Barret. ‘Why didn’t he tell us in the first place?’
‘He didn’t want to sully his wife’s good name.’
‘I’ll be having a sharp word with him. Wasting police time unnecessarily. Sending us off chasing after you two.’
‘When you get your statement,’ asked James, ‘will we be free to leave?’
‘Yes, I see no reason to keep you.’
Agatha was unnaturally silent when they left the police station.
‘Well, that’s that,’ said James at last. ‘We can pack up and be on our way.’
‘Don’t you want to find out who murdered Geraldine?’
‘I neither know nor care.’
‘But I’ve brought Harry and Patrick down. Think of the expense.’
‘That’s your fault. You haven’t charged anyone anything.’
‘But think of the good publicity if I solve the case. Besides, I was photographed going into the police station and photos appeared in the papers with captions giving my name and saying I was helping the police with their inquiries, which made me look guilty.’
James stopped abruptly. ‘Agatha, I do not want to stay in this place a moment longer than I have to. If you won’t come with me – well, I’ll just go on my own. I could do with a decent holiday after this.’
Agatha stared up at him, the wind from the sea blowing her jacket about her stocky figure, her eyes narrowing.
‘I can’t just leave it,’ she said stubbornly.
James looked back at her with something like amazement in his blue eyes. Where had the Agatha gone who would have gone through fire and water to be with him?
‘I think you are being selfish and silly,’ he said flatly.
‘No, it’s you who are being selfish. It was selfish in the extreme to pick out this place for a holiday simply because you wanted to wander down memory lane.’
‘I have nothing more to say to you,’ said James haughtily.
He stalked off. Agatha watched him go. As he approached the hotel, a large wave burst over the sea wall and drenched him from head to foot.
‘There is a God,’ said Agatha Raisin.
She realized when she got to the hotel that she was very hungry. Somewhere deep inside her was an ache because of James’s behaviour. Agatha went to Harry’s room and tapped on the door.
Harry opened it. The odour of fish and chips wafted out of the room.
‘Got any of that fish supper left?’ asked Agatha.
‘Just about to start. Come in. We can share it.’
‘Have you met Wayne Weldon and his equally terrible wife?’ said Agatha, walking into the room.
‘Not yet. I was just taking a recce round the town. Horrible little place. I’ll be down there at breakfast time and strike up a conversation. Dig in, Agatha. Loads of fish and chips.’
‘No knives and forks?’
‘Course not.’
‘Anything to drink?’
‘I’ve got a bottle of wine. I’ll get another glass out of the bathroom.’
They ate and drank in silence. Then Agatha told Harry all she had found out.
‘Hasn’t been much of a second honeymoon for you, has it?’ commented Harry.
‘It wasn’t a second honeymoon,’ said Agatha defiantly. ‘James is leaving tomorrow to holiday on his own.’ Then, to Agatha’s horror, she gave a gulping sob and began to cry.
‘Here, now,’ said Harry, moving his chair next to hers and giving her a hug. ‘The man’s a bastard. You’re better off without him.’
He handed Agatha a clean handkerchief. Agatha blew her nose and gulped and then dried her eyes. ‘You won’t look the part,’ she said, giving him a watery smile, ‘if you’re going to carry clean handkerchiefs about with you. Don’t these studs hurt?’
Harry had one in his nose and one in his upper lip. ‘No, but I wish I’d never started wearing them. I suppose I’ll need to have surgery to get the holes filled up. So why is James leaving?’
‘Like I told you, Fred Jankers had confessed to the fact that his wife found my scarf and kept it. We told the police and the police said we were free to go.’
‘You’ve got me and Patrick here,’ said Harry. ‘Why don’t you go off and have a nice holiday?’
Agatha sighed. ‘Because horrible reality is creeping in and I don’t think it would be a nice holiday at all.’
There was a knock at the door.
Harry walked over to it and called, ‘Who’s there?’
‘Patrick,’ came the reply.
Harry opened the door.
‘I just saw James Lacey lugging his suitcase out of the hotel,’ said Patrick. ‘Where’s he going?’
‘On holiday,’ said Agatha bleakly. ‘By himself. I didn’t know he meant to leave tonight.’
Harry flashed a warning look at Patrick.
Agatha caught that look. She knew Harry was trying to warn Patrick not to pursue the subject. How strange that young Harry with his shaven head, leather and studs, should be so considerate. But, then, Harry in conventional dress could look quite attractive.
‘To business,’ said Agatha briskly, while deep inside her a little Agatha ran about, tearing her hair and weeping for lost love. ‘Is Charlie Black out of prison?’
‘Yes,’ said Patrick. ‘There’s a copper along at the station, knew some friends of mine from the old days. He checked up for me. He got out two weeks ago.’
Agatha’s eyes gleamed. ‘Wait a bit. He robbed a jewellery store in Lewisham. The police got him, but they never got the jewels. Just say he left them with Geraldine. He arranges to meet her on the beach. He asks about the jewels. What if she says she sold them and spent the money? He strangles her in a rage.’
‘Now, that’s possible,’ said Patrick. ‘He appears to have had a history of violence.’
‘I don’t see it,’ said Harry. ‘If she had sold the jewels or still had them and had no intention of giving them to him, she wouldn’t meet him on a deserted beach at dead of night. Come to think of it, the body must have been found pretty quickly. There’s only a strip of shingle at low tide.’
‘I found out,’ said Patrick. ‘She was spotted by a man walking his dog at one in the morning, and eleven-thirty in the evening was low tide. The shingle is only exposed for two hours, and when the police got to her, the sea had nearly reached the body. So they think she was murdered sometime between, say, eleven-thirty and one in the morning. They won’t be completely sure until the full results of the autopsy are in.’
‘Did you get the name of the man who saw her?’
‘Chap called George Bonford. Lives along the promenade. Said his dog’s getting old and, like old people, wants to pee the whole time, so he took him out. Dog stopped to pee. Bonford stopped and looked over the wall and saw her lying on the beach. He could see her body quite clearly in the street lights on the promenade.’
‘So Harry’s going to try to get to know Wayne and wife, and you, Patrick, are going to see the dog walker. I wonder what I should do. I know, I think I’ll get to know Cyril Hammond better. So that’s all for tonight.’
Agatha lay in bed that night visualizing James speeding towards the Channel ferry. ‘I’ve done the right thing,’ she cried to the uncaring ceiling, ‘so why does it hurt so much?’
James drove through the night, his mouth set in a firm line. He remembered he had friends who ran a bed and breakfast at their villa outside Marseilles. Suddenly his mouth relaxed in a smile. As soon as he could the next day, he would send Agatha a postcard with their address. He knew his Agatha. She wouldn’t – couldn’t – hold out.
She’d probably fly down to Marseilles and rent a car. She might even be there before him!
Ah, he knew his Agatha so well.
Back in Carsely the following morning, Sir Charles Fraith stood irresolute outside Agatha’s cottage. He was a friend of hers who dropped in and out of her life when it suited
him to do so. He had a key to the cottage, but as he stood there he knew there was no one inside. The house had that feel about it, even though Agatha’s car was parked outside.
He decided to visit Mrs Bloxby at the vicarage.
Mrs Bloxby welcomed him with pleasure. She liked Charles, always so well tailored and neat, from his expensively barbered fair hair to his handmade shoes.
‘Coffee in the garden?’ she asked. ‘Such a fine day.’
‘Lovely.’
Charles went through the French windows into the garden and sat down, enjoying the smell of flowers and the domestic sounds of clattering cups in the kitchen.
Mrs Bloxby reappeared carrying a laden tray. ‘I’ve just made a batch of scones,’ she said. ‘Help yourself. I suppose you are wondering where Mrs Raisin is.’
‘Yes, I phoned the office and Mrs Freedman only said she wasn’t in today.’
‘I am very worried about her. You see, James took her off on some mystery holiday.’
‘Poor Agatha. The never-ending dream.’
‘Well, Mrs Raisin, I am sure, was hoping for somewhere romantic, but I saw an item in the newspapers which worried me.’
‘What’s she been up to? I haven’t been reading the papers.’
‘I’ll get it for you.’
Mrs Bloxby went into the house and came back with a cutting. It showed a photograph of Agatha and James arriving at the Snoth-on-Sea police station. The story underneath said that a Mrs Geraldine Jankers had been found dead on the beach and Mrs Agatha Raisin and Mr James Lacey were helping police with their inquiries.
‘Snoth-on-Sea doesn’t sound a romantic place,’ said Charles.
‘I am sure Mr Lacey had a romantic reason known only to himself for going there.’
‘Murder does seem to follow Aggie around. I might go down there.’
‘I do not think that is wise,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘Mr Lacey certainly would not welcome your presence.’
After he had left her, Charles drove home. He went on the Internet and looked up hotels in Snoth-on-Sea. There appeared to be only one main hotel. The Palace. He rang up the hotel and asked to speak to Agatha. He was told she was out. Charles had a sudden idea. He asked to speak to James Lacey. He was told Mr Lacey had checked out.
Agatha Raisin and Love, Lies and Liquor Page 4
