Agatha Raisin: Hiss and Hers by MC Beaton Page B

My God! It’s Fiona Morton!’
    â€˜You’re sure?’
    â€˜Pretty sure. She called at the office today. She’d tracked me down. She must have been waiting for me. They’ll think I murdered her.’
    â€˜Got an alibi? Calm down and think.’
    â€˜Let me see. I left the office at seven and then I went to the pub for a snack. I left there just after eight o’clock.’
    â€˜Good. Relax, they’ll probably find at the post mortem that she was dead before you got home.’
    â€˜I need a large drink.’
    â€˜I think hot sweet tea is a better idea.’
    â€˜I’m sure it is, but a large gin and tonic is an even better one.’
    â€˜Okay. Sit down and stop fretting. I’ll get it for you.’
    Agatha watched his well-barbered hair and immaculate-clothed figure heading towards her sitting room and wondered, not for the first time, how Charles, with his privileged background, could remain so calm.
    He returned with a gin and tonic for Agatha and a whisky for himself just as they both heard the wail of sirens in the distance.
    Agatha, after she had identified the body as that of Fiona Morton, found herself a prime suspect. Ever since the murder of George Marston, the police had been busy asking questions around the village and had learned of Agatha’s infatuation with George. Wilkes promptly decided that Agatha had brained the woman in a jealous rage.
    She was taken off to police headquarters for questioning. She was forced to tell them about sending Simon to investigate and about how Fiona had found out and had visited her at the detective agency. She gave her alibi, which was checked while the questioning went on and on. Agatha had been out of favour with the police before, but never to such an extent, especially when her alibi checked out. Baulked of his prey, Wilkes gave her a blistering lecture about having interfered in police business, told her not to leave the country, and finally dismissed her.
    Agatha emerged wearily into the reception area to find Charles waiting for her with a suitcase and a travel bag. ‘The place is crawling with forensic people and coppers,’ he said. ‘I gave your cats to Doris and we’re clearing off to a hotel. I booked us rooms at the George.’
    â€˜Thanks,’ said Agatha. ‘That was good of you. I’m starving and it’s pretty late. Most of the restaurants close at nine-thirty.’
    â€˜There’s a curry house opposite the George or we can get sandwiches at the hotel.’
    â€˜Sandwiches, I think. I don’t feel like being out in public, because I’ve just had a nasty thought.’
    â€˜Which is?’
    â€˜Fiona had that stupid large hat covering her face. What if someone thought she was me?’
    â€˜That did cross my mind, but I didn’t want to worry you.’
    â€˜I should tell them.’
    â€˜Leave it. I’ll phone Bill when we get to the hotel.’
    They were in the small sitting room adjoining the bedroom in Agatha’s suite at the hotel, finishing a plate of egg and cress sandwiches, when Bill Wong arrived.
    â€˜I couldn’t make it earlier, Charles,’ he said. ‘Do you really think someone might have been out to murder Agatha?’
    â€˜They tried to kill her before. Why not now?’ asked Charles.
    Bill flipped open his notebook. ‘Let’s see. George was rumoured to have had affairs with these women: Joyce Hemingway, Harriet Glossop and Sarah Freemantle.’
    â€˜My money’s on Joyce Hemingway,’ said Agatha bitterly. ‘Acidulous cow!’
    â€˜But Harriet Glossop is the only one with a record.’
    â€˜Surely not,’ said Agatha. ‘The only drama in that woman’s life, I’d have sworn, is when her angel cakes failed to rise in the oven. What did she do?’
    â€˜Harriet Glossop was suspected of having killed her first husband.’
    â€˜Her
first
husband!’ Life is