The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [15]
Emma’s feet in her high heels began to ache and she envied Agatha her flat sandals. “Funny,” said Agatha, “if Charles is such a friend of hers, I thought he would have been invited.”
At long last the meal was over, and fortunately for the two detectives, the speeches were to be made at the pool.
They went round and took up their positions behind where Mrs. Laggat-Brown would be standing at the microphone.
The guests arrived, laughing and chattering. Agatha had that old lost feeling of being on the outside, looking in.
Mrs. Laggat-Brown, flanked on one side by her daughter and Jason Peterson on the other, stood in front of the microphone. Agatha took up a position directly behind them. Mrs. Laggat-Brown opened her mouth to speak. But from a field at the side of the pool, fireworks suddenly erupted noisily into the air.
“Not yet!” screamed Mrs. Laggat-Brown furiously into the microphone.
Uneasy, Agatha looked across at the windows of the house and caught her breath. At one upstairs window, she saw the glint of what looked like a telescopic sight.
“Gun” she yelled. Spreading her arms wide and lunging forwards, she propelled Mrs. Laggat-Brown, Cassandra and Jason into the pool, falling in herself after them.
The fireworks had died away. Because of the noise of the fireworks, no one had heard Agatha’s cry.
Mrs. Laggat-Brown was helped from the pool along with her daughter and then Jason.
Agatha swam to the steps and climbed out after them.
“There was a gun,” she panted. “At that window. Up there!”
The two police officers ran into the house. Everyone waited. Cassandra began to cry.
At last the policeman and policewoman came out. “There’s nothing there,” said the police officer. “She must have imagined it.”
“I didn’t,” protested Agatha, wiping water out of her eyes. “And who set off the fireworks?”
“Just go away,” hissed Mrs. Laggat-Brown. “You have ruined my daughter’s party. I will stop that cheque.”
“Let me look upstairs,” pleaded Agatha.
“What can you find that two officers of the law cannot? Go away, you horrible woman. GO!”
“I’m telling you, sir,” said Police Constable Deny Carmichael later that evening to Detective Sergeant Bill Wong, “you should ha’ been there.”
He had just regaled Bill with a colourful account of how Agatha had pushed Mrs. Laggat-Brown, her daughter and Jason in the pool.
“Wait a minute,” said Bill. “You say the fireworks went off before they should have? Why?” “Oh, just a mistake, I reckon.” “You didn’t ask?”
“Didn’t reckon there was no need to. Them silly old women playing at detectives.”
“Agatha Raisin is a friend of mine and she’s no fool. When did the party break up?”
“ ‘Bout a half hour ago. Mrs. Laggat-Brown said it was all ruined and she didn’t want to go on with it.”
“I’m going round there. I was just about to go off duty, but it won’t do any harm to take an extra look.”
Mrs. Laggat-Brown, wrapped in a dressing-gown, gave Bill a lecture on the folly of women being able to set themselves up as detectives with no qualifications. Then, spurred on by Bill Wong’s Asian features, she continued on with a diatribe against immigrant foreigners who were ruining the country.
Bill waited impassively until she had dried up and then said, “Nonetheless, I would like to search the upper rooms at the back of the house.”
“But I have guests staying!”
“Is there a room up there which is not a guest-room?” “Just a sort of box-room.” “I’ll look there first. If you wouldn’t mind …” “Jason, would you be a dear? I am just too shocked to move.” “Come along,” said Jason. “But the police have already looked.”
When they reached the box-room, Jason looked on with amusement as Bill put a handkerchief over the handle before opening the door. Bill also switched on the light with the handkerchief and ordered Jason to wait outside.
The room was full of boxes labelled “Old Clothes,” “Books,” “China,” piled on either side, leaving a passage to the window. The