The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [18]
“He’s got a cast-iron alibi. At the time of the shooting he was holidaying in Paris. Small hotel on the Boulevard Saint-Michel. Staff saw him that evening, as clear as day. He arrived back at the hotel at six o’clock and went out for a couple of hours, returned and went straight to bed. There is no way he could have nipped across the Channel and fired a gun at anyone. There is one lead, however.”
“What’s that?”
“Jason, the fiance, seems squeaky-clean. But his father was once in prison for insider trading.”
“But what’s that got to do with killing Cassandra?”
“Turns out the couple have already made out their wills. If Cassandra dies, everything goes to Jason.”
“Has she got anything? I mean, doesn’t Mummy have all the money?”
“Last year, Cassandra won a million in the lottery.” “Blimey. So what does Jason’s father have to say for himself?”
“That’s the interesting thing. He was seen in the neighbourhood on the day of the party. Now he’s disappeared.”
“What about Jason’s mother?”
“She divorced Harrison when he went to prison. No one seems to know where she’s living. We’ve got a police guard on the house, but we can’t keep guarding them indefinitely. We just don’t have the resources. What with this government closing down country police stations one after the other, we’ve got an even bigger area to cover.”
“I’ll phone this detective you recommended,” said Agatha. “Emma’s been working hard, but I could do with an expert. Have you got a description of Jason’s father?”
“Tall, thin, black-and-grey hair, large nose, black eyes, in his mid-fifties and evidently spry for his age. First name is Harrison. Like Harrison Ford. He hasn’t worked since he got out of prison last year. Don’t know where he’s been living or what on.”
“Maybe Cassandra has been giving him money.”
“She denies that and I think she’s telling the truth.”
“I’d better pay the Laggat-Browns another call,” said Agatha.
Firstly, after Bill had left, she phoned Patrick Mullen. He said he was interested in the job and would call round at the office in the early evening. Emma was out looking for a lost teenager, Sammy and Douglas were working on errant husbands and wives, so Agatha set out alone.
She planned to ask around Herris Cum Magna to see if there had been any other sightings of Jason’s father, but first she went to the manor-house. Mrs. Laggat-Brown herself answered the door. “Oh, Mrs. Raisin,” she fluted. “Do come in. Have you found anything?”
“Working hard on it,” said Agatha, not wanting to admit that she had barely started. “Has your husband left? I thought he was coming to see you.”
“Come into the drawing-room and I’ll explain.”
Agatha followed her through a shadowy hall and into a chintzy drawing-room that looked as if it had been furnished by Laura Ashley on an off-day.
“The fact is,” said Mrs. Laggat-Brown, “that Jeremy and I have got together again. He’s living here but commuting up to the City.”
“And is Cassandra happy about this?” “Of course. She adores her father.” “Where is she now?” “Bermuda.” “Bermuda? “
“I decided to send her and Jason away on holiday for their safety.”
“Mrs. Laggat-Brown…” “Oh, do call me Catherine.”
“Very well. I’m Agatha. Catherine, do the police know where Cassandra and Jason are?”
“Yes, the chief constable is a friend of mine and he thought it was a very good idea.”
“I gather Jason’s father was seen in the vicinity. You didn’t tell me he had a criminal record.”
Catherine flushed slightly. “Well, he’s served his sentence and it’s so much better to forget things like that, don’t you think?”
“Not when you’re dealing with attempted murder. Any more letters?”
“None at all.”
“Did the police find any fingerprints on the letter or where the stationery had been bought?”
“No. I gather they’ve just finished their tests.”
“No DNA from the flap?” asked Agatha, who was now thinking of all the questions she had failed to ask Bill. “Self-sealing kind.”
“Will Mr. Laggat-Brown be home this evening?”
“Yes, he comes home on the commuter train. Gets in at More-ton at six-thirty.”
“Tell