The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [36]
“Oh, Aggie. Of all the things. You’ll just need to hope he’s found refuge with Mrs. Bloxby.”
In Agatha’s cottage, there were two notes on the kitchen table. One was from Doris Simpson saying she had let the cats out after feeding them. The other was from Roy. “I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, you old bat, but if it hadn’t been for Emma I would have had a rotten time. Doris Simpson finally let me in. I’m off to London. No point in staying. Roy.”
“Snakes and bastards,” muttered Agatha.
“Your trouble,” said Charles, who had read the note over her shoulder, “is that now you’re running around being a professional detective, you think your friends are to be picked up and left at will.”
The doorbell rang. “You get it, Charles,” said Agatha. “I’ll try Roy on his mobile.”
Charles opened the door. Emma stood there, fresh makeup, golden trouser suit, shielded from the rain under a golfing umbrella.
“Oh, come in,” said Charles. “Agatha’s on the phone.” He led the way into the kitchen. “Can I get you something?”
“No, Em all right, Charles. I’ve been thinking. I owe you not one but two lunches. My turn next.”
And she gazed at Charles with simple adoration in her eyes.
Alarm bells went off in Charles’s head. “That’s very kind of you, Emma, but Em afraid I have to leave. Got things to attend to.”
Emma’s face fell. Agatha came into the kitchen. “Oh, it’s you, Emma. Thank you for looking after, Roy. He’s been singing your praises.”
“Has he forgiven you?” asked Emma.
“Oh, yes,” said Agatha and Charles noticed a flicker of disappointment in Emma’s eyes.
Agatha had mollified Roy by promising to travel up to London and buy him the best meal in town.
“Isn’t it a pity,” said Emma brightly. “Charles has just told me he is leaving.”
Agatha’s bearlike eyes focused on Charles. “But we’ve got so much to find out.”
“Sorry, Aggie. Got to go. I haven’t unpacked my bag, so I’ll be off.”
“Ed better go, too,” said Emma, anxious to hang on to Charles until the very last minute.
“Can’t I persuade you to stay?” asked Agatha, following them to the door.
“Sorry.” Charles picked up his bag and kissed her on the cheek.
He walked out to his car with Emma following. “Goodbye,” she said, turning her cheek towards him for a kiss. Charles pretended not to notice. He slung his bag in the boot and then got into the driver’s seat.
Emma walked to her cottage and stood on the doorstep, waving and waving until his car had turned the coiner of Lilac Lane and disappeared.
Agatha felt forlorn.
Charles drove down to Moreton-in-Marsh and parked by the war memorial. He took out his mobile phone and called Agatha. “Feel like dinner?”
“Yes, but I thought you’d gone!”
“I’m parked by the war memorial in Moreton. Come down and collect me and I’ll tell you about it.”
Over a pub dinner, Agatha exclaimed again, “I can’t believe it. Emma!”
“That’s the reason for the new hairdo and the new clothes.” “Emma’s such a simple, friendly person. Surely you must be mistaken.”
“No, I’m not. She could be dangerous.” “How?”
“I just feel uneasy about it. I’ll creep back with you. I’m sure she goes to bed early. You haven’t really talked much about Laggat-Brown, now that we’re on the subject of romance.”
“I had dinner with him and he seemed very pleasant.”
“He’s my prime suspect.”
“Come on, Charles. He’s got a cast-iron alibi and he wouldn’t want to murder his own daughter. It’s obvious he adores her. My money’s on Jason. He’s the only one with a motive.”
“But to kill his own father! Wait a bit. That’s out. He was in Bermuda.”
“So he was.-We seem to be going round and round.”
“What about Joyce Peterson’s new squeeze? Maybe he’s fanatically jealous of the ex and wanted revenge. Maybe he meant to shoot Jason. You know, Aggie, if it hadn’t been for that death threat, we wouldn’t be in such a muddle. What if the death threat was a blind? What if the intended target wasn’t Cassandra? Don’t you see, she’s the stumbling block. As long as we keep looking on Cassandra as the intended victim, we’ll get nowhere. So let’s take Jason