The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [25]
“True. This rifle is made by Sable Defence Industries here in the UK. Police are going through the books there, trying to trace all the rifles that have been sold.”
. “Have forensics found out anything else?”
“Only that we’re dealing with one very cool customer. He wore gloves and swept his way out of the box-room so there would be no fingerprints. The corridor and stairs are thickly carpeted.”
“He didn’t need to leave in a rush,” said Agatha bitterly. “I mean, the police went into the house, but I don’t think they even went in to the box-room. Just pushed the door open and looked. Well, good hunting. To tell you the truth, I’m not enjoying this detective agency business much. I hate the missing teenager ones because the parents are naturally distraught and it’s awfully hard trying to find someone the police were unable to.”
“The whole police force will search far and wide for a missing child,” said Patrick, “but once they reach the late teens, the search isn’t so urgent. What are Sam and Douglas doing?”
“Adultery cases. They pay well.”
“I’ll get off to Herris Cum Magna.”
“Wait a minute. Harrison Peterson was seen on the day of the party in Herris Cum Magna. Who saw him?”
“I got a tip-off. A Mrs. Blandford. I’ll start with her.”
Agatha made her way back to the office. Patrick had made her feel like an amateur. Why hadn’t she tried to get Bill to tell her the name of the person who had spotted Harrison?
To her annoyance, the office was locked. She unlocked the door and walked in. Emma had left a note. “Not feeling very well. Had to go home and lie down. Miss Simms is out on that job. Emma.”
The afternoon dragged on. Miss Simms did not return and there was no sign of Charles. At last Agatha locked up and went home, calling first at Emma’s cottage, but there was no reply.
She went into her own cottage, calling, “Charles!” The house was silent. She went upstairs to the spare bedroom. Charles had arrived with an overnight bag. It was gone. Agatha realized she had offended him and knew from experience that an offended Charles could stay away for quite a long time.
She went downstairs again just as the phone started to ring. It was Roy Silver, her one-time assistant, on the other end of the line.
“Aggie!” he cried. “I haven’t heard from you in ages. Feel like doing some free-lance PR?”
“I can’t, Roy. I’ve started up my own detective agency.”
“How exciting. Can I come down this weekend for a visit?”
“Of course. Are you driving down or taking the train?”
“The train. We’re coming into the wong-kind-of-the-leaves-on-the-line season and the trains will probably run late. I’ll be down Friday about eight o’clock.”
“Fine.”
Agatha brightened up at the prospect of seeing Roy again, but she missed Charles. She went through to her desk with some computer disks which had the detective agency’s accounts logged on them, put the disks in and began to go through the figures.
She noticed that she was beginning to actually show a small profit despite all the staff she had employed. The adultery cases were paying well and they were beginning to get quite a few from divorce lawyers.
She closed down the computer and was just about to phone Charles when her phone rang.
“Jeremy Laggat-Brown,” said the voice at the other end. “Remember me?”
“Of course.”
“Have you had dinner yet?” “No, not yet.”
“How about coming out to have a bite to eat with me?” “That would be nice,” said Agatha cautiously. “Will your wife be there?”
“Catherine’s got a Women’s Institute meeting tonight.” “Well, in that case .. .”
“Pick you up at eight? Where are you?” Agatha had put her home phone number along with the office number on her card but not her home address. She gave him directions. Then, when she replaced the receiver and looked at the clock, she let out a squawk. It was half past seven.
She fled up the stairs and began to tear clothes out of her wardrobe and place them on the bed. Then she decided she was wasting valuable time wondering