M Beaton - A Spoonful of Poison

“I’m just off,” said Toni.

“Coming with you.” Jimmy moved to take her arm.

“Run along, Toni,” said Agatha. “You. Jimmy. Stay.”

When Toni had left, Agatha said, “What was all that about?”

“About what?”

“She looked nervous and embarrassed. You were blocking her way.”

“I only asked her for a drink.”

“Look here. That girl is eighteen and you are too old. If I catch you bothering her again, you’re out. Get it! Now sit down and tell me if you’ve found out anything else.”

“Nothing. You told me to leave it for a bit.”

“Well, get back on it tomorrow. Good night!”

Toni hurried along in the direction of her flat. She saw a group of her friends, all dressed up, heading in her direction. “Hi, Toni,” said Sandra, who was in the lead. “We’re off to that new disco, Naughty Nights, out on the Evesham road. Come with us.”

Toni had a sudden mental picture of Bill’s sad face, followed by one of the leering Jimmy Wilson. She wanted to feel as young as she was, and free.

“I’m not dressed,” she said.

“Go home and change and join us,” said Sandra.

“I might do that.”

At that moment, Wilkes was summoning Bill Wong. “There’s a new disco, Naughty Nights, and we want to make sure there’s no under-age drinking or drugs. I want you to go there in suitable clothes this evening.”

Bill reflected miserably that he had nothing better to do. He went home and changed into black trousers, a black T-shirt and a black leather jacket. As he was getting ready to leave, his father shuffled in, wearing his usual outfit of carpet slippers, open-necked shirt, baggy trousers and a ratty cardigan. The only thing Asian-looking about him was his almond-shaped eyes. The rest was pure British. “Why you going out dressed like a freak?” he asked “Where’s that nice suit we bought you for Christmas?”

“Going undercover,” said Bill.

His mother joined them. “Have you got a clean hanky?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“And clean underwear? What if you was to end up in hospital?”

“I’m fine.”

Bill escaped and drove to the nightclub. Before he even reached it, he could hear the thud, thud, thud of the disco. When he parked his car and climbed out, the very ground beneath his feet seemed to vibrate to the noise.

Toni was enjoying herself, dancing under the flashing strobe lights, losing herself in the deafening music. Her partner was a thin youth with greasy hair and a face scarred by acne. But he danced like John Travolta in Grease. When the music finished, he said, “Want a drink?”

“Okay, I’m thirsty,” said Toni.

They shouldered their way through to the bar.

“What’ll it be?”

“Just a half of lager.”

When the drinks were served, he shouted above the noise, “Look at that weird bird over there!”

Toni swung round. “Which bird?”

“You can’t see her now. Drink up.”

Toni drank thirstily. Then she began to feel dizzy. “I’d better get outside,” she said weakly.

“I’ll help you.”

Bill was just entering the club when he saw Toni, supported by a young man. Toni looked barely conscious.

“What’s happened?” he demanded.

“She’s a bit faint. Getting her outside.”

“She’s a friend of mine. I’ll take over.”

“Get lost, mate.”

Bill flashed his badge. The youth stopped supporting Toni, who fell to the floor. The youth turned to flee. Bill seized him by his denim jacket, forced him to his knees, and handcuffed him to the leg of a desk by the door.

Then he phoned for backup and for an ambulance.

Agatha arrived at Mircester Hospital with Charles later that evening, having been phoned by Bill. Bill was waiting for them outside the ward where Toni was stretched out on one of the beds.

“What happened?” asked Agatha.

“We think someone slipped a date-rape drug into her drink,” said Bill. “The hospital’s taken tests. It was all Wilkes needed as an excuse to raid the club. They were selling a combination of Viagra and Ecstasy. No wonder there are so many rapes these days.”

“Why did Toni go to such a place?” cried Agatha.

“She’s young,” said Charles. “Young people go to discos. Here’s her mother.”

Mrs. Gilmour arrived looking harried and distressed, followed by a doctor. She nodded to Agatha and was taken into the ward where Toni lay.

They waited impatiently. At last the doctor emerged. “Mrs. Gilmour is going to stay with her daughter, but there is nothing to worry about. The girl will be all right in the morning.”

“Cheer up,” said Charles, and he and Agatha walked away. “This time it’s not your fault.”

“I worry about her,” said Agatha. “I wish she weren’t so young. I mean, if something happened to Phil, say, it would be pretty awful, but he is in his seventies and he’s had a long life. But poor Toni is really just starting out.”

“It must be difficult for one so young being in an office full of old people,” commented Charles as they emerged from the hospital.

“Watch it,” said Agatha furiously. “I am not old.”

Charles stifled a yawn. “I’d better get off back home. Things to do.”

Agatha felt bereft. There were times when she was furious at the way he used her cottage like a hotel, but now that she was no longer interested in George and there was no reason to wish him out of the way, she reluctantly admitted to herself that she would miss Charles’s company.

So Agatha was relieved on returning home to find a message on her phone from Roy Silver, her former employee, asking if he could come down for the weekend.

Agatha phoned him and said she would be delighted to see him with more warmth in her voice than Roy had heard before.

“You might have asked me to that murderous gig,” said Roy petulantly.

“Honestly, Roy, with all the flurry of last-minute arrangements, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

There was a little silence while Roy digested the fact that Agatha Raisin was actually apologizing to him.

“I’ll be at Moreton-in-Marsh on Friday evening. Train gets in at six-twenty.”

“I’ll be there,” promised Agatha.

Agatha felt guilty at leaving what she thought of as the Jam Case alone, but was looking forward to a lazy weekend with Roy.

When he descended from the train on Friday, she saw he was all dressed in black: black leather jacket, black shirt, black trousers, and black high-heeled boots. He had even dyed his hair black. He pirouetted on the platform.

“Why the Man in Black effect?” asked Agatha.

“Because we’ll be going detecting, Aggie.”

“Don’t call me Aggie, and I want the weekend off.”

“You can’t just leave it! I’ll take you for dinner and you can tell me all about it.”

“You can take me to the Black Bear. It’s the only place left where I can smoke before this dreadful nonsmoking ban hits the country.”

Agatha felt her enthusiasm for the case returning as she carefully described what she had found out.

“Fascinating,” said Roy, ignoring the fact that some beefy-looking men at the bar were looking across at him and sniggering. “How’s Toni getting on?”

Agatha told him about the date-rape drug and finished by saying, “She’s back at work and appears none the worse.”

“So to get back to your case,” said Roy, “you said most of the LSD might have been in the jam supplied by Miss Tubby. So we start there. Let’s go and see her tomorrow.”

“You’d better wear something more conservative. She and her partner are a couple of bitches.”

“I think I look rather smart in a sinister way.”

Agatha looked at Roy’s rather weak face topped with its crop of gelled dyed-black hair. “Very nice for London,” said Agatha with rare tact. “But a bit too exotic for down here.”