The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [43]
Agatha became uneasily aware that someone was staring at her and looked across the restaurant. With a sinking heart, she recognized Phyllis Hepper, a public relations officer she had known in her London days. Phyllis was a famous lush.
To Agatha’s horror, Phyllis rose and came over to their table. “It’s Agatha, isn’t it?” she said.
“Phyllis,” said Agatha, relieved the woman appeared to be sober. “What are you doing in Paris?”
“I got married to a Frenchman.”
“This is Charles Fraith, Charles, Phyllis. Phyllis and I knew each other when I was working in London.”
Phyllis laughed. “I’m surprised you recognized me. I must have been drunk the whole time.”
“Well. ..”
“It doesn’t matter. I was a terrible drunk,” said Phyllis to Charles. “But I joined AA. I go to meetings, or reunions Al-cooliques Anonymes, as they call them here in Paris.”
“Your French must be very good.”
“Not yet. I go to the English-speaking ones at the Quai D’Orsay. Quite a lot of French people go as well. There was this terrible raggy old drunk came in, but he got it and now you wouldn’t recognize him. He looks so well and handsome. You must come and visit me. Here’s my card.”
Agatha said they were leaving the next day, but if she was ever back in Paris she would look Phyllis up.
After she had left, Charles said, “I thought it was supposed to be Alcoholics Anonymous”
“She must be very new in the programme. I met people like her in London. Just in, they wanted to tell the world.”
They finished their decanter of wine and Charles ordered another, saying it would help them sleep. They chatted idly about previous cases and then Charles asked suddenly, “What about Emma?”
“What about her?”
“I think she’s stalking me.”
“Oh, Charles. Such male vanity.”
“No, really. I was up on the platform at the fete and I looked across and I’d swear it was her. I asked Gustav and he said he’d told her fortune.”
“What was Gustav doing telling her fortune?”
“The woman who was supposed to tell them fell ill and I made Gustav dress up and do it. He turned out to be a wow. People like being frightened and he told them such dire things.”
“What did he tell Emma?”
“He said he felt sorry for her, so he’d given her the usual rubbish about meeting a tall, dark stranger.”
“I’ll have a word with Emma. Do you know I’ve put a codicil in my will, giving her the detective agency?”
“Oh, Aggie. Did you tell her?”
“Yes.”
“Cancel it.”
“I’ll have a talk to her about trailing around after you. But what did you expect? You took her to lunch a couple of times. Maybe she’s lonely.”
“You obviously don’t think much of my charms.”
Agatha looked at him. Even in an open-necked blue shirt and blue chinos, he looked neat and impeccably barbered.
“Eat your food,” she said.
Emma clutched her hair. What if Charles drank the coffee? And Doris would tell the police that she had given her the keys, so she would be first suspect. How stupid and crazy she had been. There was a ring at the doorbell. When she opened the door, Doris Simpson was standing there.
“I’d better take the keys back,” she said. “My Bert, he points out that Agatha is paying me for looking after them cats and it’s cheating on her to have you do it.”
“I don’t mind,” pleaded Emma.
“I must have the keys,” insisted Doris. “Where are they?” Really, thought the cleaner, Mrs. Comfrey looks as if she’s about to faint.
“Oh, there they are,” said Doris, seeing the keys on a small table inside the door. She pushed past the trembling Emma and picked up the keys.
“I think it would be best,” said Doris, who was about the only woman in the village who called Agatha by her first name, “if you didn’t tell Agatha about me giving you the keys. I need all the money I can get these days and I wouldn’t want her to go thinking I had cheated her.”
“I won’t breathe a word,” said Emma passionately. “Not a word.”
When Doris had gone, Emma sat down and hugged her thin figure. Then she rose and went down to the shed in the garden