The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [14]
“Would you like me to search the house?” asked Agatha. “Make sure no one is hiding there?”
“Oh, dear me, no. Some of the guests are there changing and we don’t want you poking around, now do we?”
“I thought that was what I was here for,” said Agatha.
“Just study the guests and look out for someone who looks as if they don’t belong.”
“She shouldn’t wear a backless dress at her age,” said Agatha sourly, watching Mrs. Laggat-Brown retreat. “You can count every single vertebra.”
“So where do we start?” asked Emma.
“I don’t know about you, but I could do with a large G and T.”
“I think it’s only champagne,” said Emma. “Here comes a girl with a tray.”
“Oh, that’ll do,” grumbled Agatha. She and Emma took a glass each.
“I think that must be Cassandra,” said Emma, waving her glass in the direction of the terrace.
Cassandra had masses of sun-streaked hair. She was plump with a round, amiable face. She was wearing a very low-cut dress to show off her best feature—two large round bosoms. Beside her stood a young man in evening dress. He had thick dark hair, a long nose, and a somehow embarrassingly large and red sensual mouth.
A little to the left of them stood a policeman and policewoman.
The guests chatted, the band played, and Agatha’s feet began to hurt. And then the guests began to move towards the marquee.“Great,” said Agatha. “Come along, Emma. Em starving.”
Mrs. Laggat-Brown, with her daughter and Jason, had moved to the entrance to the marquee to welcome the guests.
When she saw Agatha and Emma, she said, “We haven’t got places for you. If you’re very hungry, you can get something in the kitchen.”
Agatha wanted to make a scene. She wanted to shout that they were supposed to observe the guests and that she would rather do it sitting down, but reminded herself in time that Mrs. Laggat-Brown was a client and that if she behaved herself this job might lead to others.
Outside, Emma said, “We may as well go to the kitchen.”
“Damned if I will,” muttered Agatha.
“You see, whoever is working there might have some gossip about the family.”
“You’re right.” But Agatha felt she should have thought of that herself.
THREE
AGATHA had imagined she would find a cook and a maid in the kitchen, forgetting that the days of live-in servants had gone. Mrs. Laggat-Brown had hired a caterer, a formidable-looking woman in jeans and a T-shirt. Agatha explained who they were, ending up asking if there was any supper.
“Sorry,” she said briskly. “All in the tent. With people like Mrs. Laggat-Brown, you cater down to the last plate and no more. The girls I’ve hired for the evening are serving it. I’d take a look in her fridge. There might be something there.”
“I don’t think we should…” began Emma timidly, but Agatha had spotted a chest freezer and a microwave, two essentials in Agatha’s opinion for efficient cuisine.
She opened the lid and rummaged through the packets. “Here we are, Emma,” she said at last. “Two portions of stew.”
Agatha put them in the microwave, turned the knob to defrost, and then heated them up.
“This is not bad,” said Agatha when they began to eat. “Got potatoes in it as well.”
At last, her appetite satisfied, Agatha turned her attention back to the caterer. “Known Mrs. Laggat-Brown long?”
“No, this is my first job for her and it’ll be my last.”
“Why is that?”
“Penny-pinching.”
“We’re detectives,” said Agatha. “Her daughter’s had a death threat.”
“Well, let’s just hope they get the old trout instead,” said the caterer with a shrug.
“I hope that cheque of hers clears,” said Agatha.
“It’s all right,” said Emma. “I paid the necessary fee to have it cleared quickly.”
“Oh, well done!” said Agatha and Emma flushed with pleasure. Really, thought Emma, I think I like her after all.
They made their way back out and located the swimming pool. Stage and microphone had been set up at the pool edge facing the house.
Then they walked back and went into the marquee. Agatha’s eyes ranged over the guests. “There can’t be anyone