Agatha Raisin and the Perfect Paragon - M. C. Beaton [79]
“The paper was old by the time Gustav gave it to me. Anyway,” said Charles, “you never mentioned me once in any of your interviews.”
“Because you had beetled off chasing a bit of skirt.”
“That’s it,” said Charles. “I’m off. Phone me when you’re in a better temper.”
Agatha arrived at the office the next morning to find them all waiting for her. “What’s this?” she asked wearily. “A strike?”
“We just wanted to be sure that you want to continue with this agency,” said Patrick. “You didn’t bother doing any work yesterday and you took the whole weekend off.”
“Of course I am continuing,” said Agatha. “I’ve just been tired, that’s all. Mrs. Freedman, let’s go through the work for today.”
In order to show enthusiasm, Agatha took on one of the nastier cases, which was following a man whose wife thought he was being unfaithful and wanted grounds for a divorce.
He owned a delicatessen in Mircester. The shop was a popular one. Agatha found a parking place across the road. Phil was beside her with his camera.
Customers came and went. Then the shop was closed for an hour at lunchtime. Their quarry went to a local restaurant but ate on his own.
Back to watching the shop as the hours dragged on until closing time. His two assistants left and then he came out and locked up the shop. He stood outside, looking up and down the street.
“He’s waiting for someone,” said Agatha, crouching down. “Get ready with the camera. Thank God for the light evenings. Wouldn’t want him to be alerted with a flash.”
A youngish man came along the street and hailed the owner. They walked off together.
“Today was a waste of time,” said Phil.
“No, get out the car and follow them,” said Agatha. “I’ve got an idea.”
They hurried after them at a discreet distance. They stopped outside a club called the Green Parrot.
“Thought so,” said Agatha. “Bang off a couple of pictures and let’s get out of here.”
Phil did as he was told, getting two good shots before the two men walked into the club, their arms around each other’s shoulders.
“So why did I have to take photographs?” asked Phil. “Was that his illegitimate son, or what?”
“The Green Parrot is Mircester’s only gay club. Sometimes I hate this job. I feel grubby. I’ll drive you back to your car, Phil. You can go home now and print up those photos. I just want to look at the books.”
After she had left Phil, Agatha slumped down in Mrs. Freedman’s chair and stared at the blank computer screen.
She could not remember ever before feeling so old or so lonely. Early fifties surely wasn’t old these days. But the fact that she had arthritis had shaken her badly. She envisaged herself crumbling into old age all on her own, no one to look after her, no one to share the pain.
There was a tentative knock at the office door. Agatha was about to shout, “We’re closed. Go away,” but reflected that business was business and a possible new case might take her mind off her misery.
She opened the door and stared up at the tall figure standing there, smiling down at her.
“Hullo, Agatha,” said James Lacey.
Keep reading for an excerpt from
the next Agatha Raisin mysrery
LOVE, LIES AND LIQUOR
Coming soon from St. Martins/Minotaur Paperbacks!
JAMES Lacey, Agatha Raisin’s ex-husband with whom she was still in love, had come back into her life. He had moved into his old cottage next door to Agatha’s.
But although he seemed interested in Agatha’s work at her detective agency, not a glint of love lightened his blue eyes. Agatha dressed more carefully than she had done in ages and spent a fortune at the beauticians, but to no avail. This was the way, she thought sadly, that things had been before. She felt as if some cruel hand had wound the clock of time backwards.
Just when Agatha was about to give up, James called on her and said friends of his had moved into Ancombe and had invited them both to dinner. His host, he said, was a Mr. David Hewitt who was retired from the Ministry of