Agatha Raisin and the Perfect Paragon - M. C. Beaton [72]
“Let me see that guidebook,” said Patrick.
He flicked through it. “It’s such a big place,” he mourned.
“We’ve got to try,” said Agatha.
“If you say so. But they’ll have Interpol on to it by now.”
“But they don’t know about Spain, and we do.”
Joyce stepped out on the balcony of their hotel and took a deep breath of sunny air. A golden beach stretched out in front of a green-blue sea. A young man was strolling along the promenade. He looked up and saw Joyce on the second-floor balcony and blew her a kiss.
Joyce’s spirits soared. This was the life! She went back into the suite and said excitedly, “It is so beautiful here. We can go out clubbing tonight.”
Mabel looked up from her unpacking. “No, we can’t,” she said in a flat voice. “You’ve pushed me too far, Joyce. We will stay in our suite and have our meals sent up until I figure out where we should go that’s safer.”
“They’ll never find us here. Thanks to the European Union, we didn’t even get our passports stamped.”
“Some border guard might remember us. Marbella is still a thieves’ kitchen. They might think of here.”
“But that’s only for train robbers and big-time crooks. We’re only …”
“A couple of murderers. Now shut up and let me think.”
Joyce studied Mabel for a long moment and then said, “Okay. What about a drink?”
“All right. See what’s in the minibar.”
Joyce opened it up. “Pretty much everything.”
“Fix me something and close those windows and put on the air conditioning. I’m going to splash my face with cold water.”
“I’ll mix us a couple of Cuba libres,” shouted Joyce.
She took out the bottle of rum and two small bottles of Coke and then extracted two tumblers. She went to the bed and rummaged in her bag until she found a bottle of sleeping pills. She split them open with her long lacquered nails and shook the contents into one of the tumblers. Then she poured generous measures of rum into each tumbler and filled both glasses up with Coke.
Just in time. Mabel appeared. “I’ve been thinking about Brazil. If that train robber, Ronnie Biggs, could hide out there forever, then so can we. I’ll have a drink and start making arrangements. You haven’t closed the windows.”
“Sorry.” Joyce handed Mabel her drink and went over and closed them, reluctantly shutting out the splendid view of sun and sea.
Mabel looked down at her drink. There was a small fleck of white powder floating on the top. She quickly switched her drink for Joyce’s.
“Here’s to us,” Mabel said, raising her glass.
“Good luck,” said Joyce. “How do we get to Brazil?”
“Dangerous now to fly,” said Mabel. “Maybe we’ll drive over to Lisbon and see if there’s a ship.”
Joyce drank eagerly, watching Mabel the whole time for signs of sleepiness. When she felt herself beginning to feel groggy, she could hardly believe it. She stood up and swayed.
“You look tired, dear,” said Mabel, steering her through to her bedroom. “Lie down.”
Joyce began to struggle. “You switched the glasses.”
“You’re becoming delirious.” Mabel forced Joyce down on the bed. Joyce fought to keep awake, but she was sucked down into blackness.
“That’s solved one problem,” said Mabel. She lifted a pillow and was about to press it down on Joyce’s face but felt squeamish. She was no longer fuelled by the insane, jealous rage which had turned her into a murderer. She put the pillow down and went back and searched Joyce’s handbag. She took out the empty bottle of sleeping pills and threw it in the waste basket. Then she opened Joyce’s wallet and took out all the money she had given her. Lying in the bottom of the handbag was an engagement ring. Mabel scowled. She had given it to Joyce to get rid of. She flushed the ring down the toilet and then put the money she had taken out of Joyce’s bag into her own. Putting a few belongings into a beach bag, Mabel left the room and hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the door. She would have to leave her clothes behind.
She took the lift to the ground floor, found the Land Rover in the car park and drove