The Deadly Dance - M. C. Beaton [58]
Gustav nodded and went out and returned with a pair of kitchen scissors and proceeded to release the aunt, Mrs. Tassey. When she could speak, Mrs. Tassey said, “What a horrible woman. Gustav, call the police.”
“Already being done,” said Gustav, nodding to where Charles was speaking urgently on the phone.
Emma had slumped onto the floor and was curled up in the foetal position, rocking and crooning.
Charles had a great feeling of relief when he heard the approaching police sirens. He felt more relief when Emma was cautioned and taken off. He could only marvel at the resilience of his elderly aunt, who was drinking a large gin and tonic and making her statement. Emma had called and brandished the knife in Mrs. Tassey’s face and had forced her to the study, where she had tied her up and gagged her.
At last their statements were all taken. Mrs. Tassey said she would do some gardening because that always soothed her and Charles decided it was time he went through the accounts. The phone rang. Gustav answered it.
“It’s a Miss Wisbich,” he said.
“Ed better take it,” groaned Charles. “Hullo, Elaine. Terrible drama here.” He told her of the attack by Emma.
“Gosh,” said Elaine. “I mean, jolly exciting stuff. Did you really forget your wallet?”
“Really, honestly, definitely.”
“You can make it up to me. There’s a new French restaurant in Broadway called Cordon Bleu. You can take me there for dinner tomorrow night. It’s very expensive.”
“Oh, all right,” said Charles. “Eight o’clock fine?”
“Great, see you there.”
Agatha now had a policeman on guard outside her door. Bill Wong had tried to get her a police guard before, but Agatha’s exploits caused such resentment at Mircester Police Headquarters that they had refused before, no doubt hoping, Bill thought, that someone really would get rid of her. PC Betty Howse had been instructed to tail her, not for Agatha’s protection but to find out what she was up to.
Agatha had a large lump on the back of her head, but the skin had not been broken.
PC Darren Boyd, on guard outside her door, was a very good-looking young man. At first he had protested at the boring job, but now he was beginning to enjoy himself as the ladies of the village plied him with tea and cakes and hot sausage rolls. One even produced a garden chair for him to sit on, and another, a little table. Another brought him books and magazines. So he sat in the sun and passed a pleasant afternoon and was quite disappointed when his relief arrived.
Agatha was glad of the police presence to keep the press at bay. At first she could not understand why so many press were besieging her over a simple assault. It was only when she turned on the evening news and heard of Emma’s attempt on Charles’s life that she understood the reason for the fuss. Her name had been linked with Charles’s on previous cases and Emma had tried to poison her.
She phoned Charles, but Gustav hung up on her. “This is ridiculous,” fumed Agatha. “He should sack that man.”
“Let’s go out there,” suggested Roy.
“No good. Gustav will answer the door and then slam it in our faces. And the press will be all over the place.”
Agatha’s mobile rang. “I’d better answer it. Maybe the press haven’t got this number.”
“It’s on your business cards,” said Roy.
Nonetheless, Agatha picked up her mobile phone. “Agatha,” said a warm deep voice. “It’s me, Jeremy. I’ve just heard on the news that that woman who used to work for you has been arrested.”
“I just heard it on the news. It is a relief. How are you getting on?”
“Oh, so-so. The commuting up and down to London’s getting a bit wearing. I’m thinking of getting a small flat there and only coming down at the weekends. Jason’s mourning his father, and life here is pretty dreary. Feel like having dinner with me tomorrow night?”
“I’ve got a guest staying, Roy Silver, who used to work for me.” There was a silence and then he said, “Bring him along as well. Is he amusing?” “
Yes, very.”
“Just what I need. I’ll see you both at eight.”
“He’s not interested in you romantically,” said Roy when Agatha told him, “or