M Beaton: There Goes The Bride

She and Roy squeezed into the pew next to Toni. ‘What’s happening?’ hissed Agatha. ‘Where’s the bride?’

‘Don’t know,’ said Bill. He turned and looked at the entrance. ‘Here comes trouble. Toni, if you had anything to do with letting those dogs out, you’re in for it now.’

Alarmed, Toni watched as a plain-clothes officer, followed by several policemen, walked up the aisle. The detective bent his head over Olivia Bross-Tilkington and said something. Her sudden shriek rose up to the hammer-beam ceiling.

Then the detective faced the congregation. ‘Miss Bross-Tilkington has met with an accident,’ he said. ‘I want you to give your names to these police officers, but do not leave the area until we tell you, and hold yourselves ready for questioning.’

The vicar was trying to console Olivia Bross-Tilkington. Her frantic eyes raked the congregation, settling on Agatha, who had taken off her hat.

‘That’s her!’ she screamed. ‘Murderess! You killed my daughter!’

She burst into noisy tears and was led off into the vestry by the vicar.

A table was carried to the entrance. Three policemen sat down behind it and began to take names and addresses as people left the church.

Agatha slowly approached the table and started to give her name and address but only got as far as Agatha Raisin.

‘Go back into the church and sit down until we are ready for you, Mrs Raisin,’ said the policeman.

Dazed, Agatha went back and slumped down in a pew. What on earth had happened?

Agatha’s friends waited in the pub lounge bar for news. Bill Wong had said he would stay behind and find out what had happened.

The vicar, Mr Bloxby, said impatiently, ‘Trust Mrs Raisin to get us into a mess.’

‘It’s got nothing to do with her,’ protested Toni. ‘She was out buying a hat.’

Bill Wong came in. ‘Felicity’s been shot,’ he said.

There was a general cry of dismay.

‘So where’s Agatha?’ asked Roy.

‘She won’t be long.’

‘Who on earth could possibly have shot Felicity?’ asked Toni.

‘Need to wait for the police to get some ideas,’ said Bill.

‘Isn’t someone going to buy a drink?’ asked Charles. ‘I could do with one.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ said Roy. ‘Mine’s a vodka and Red Bull.’

‘I didn’t mean me,’ said Charles. ‘There are too many of you.’

‘We’ll each buy our own,’ said Bill. He signalled to the barmaid. After he had given his own order, he went outside and phoned Mircester police headquarters on his mobile phone and explained that he might have to stay on for another day. He wanted to go back to the police station, but had been firmly sent away and told it was not his territory.

At Mircester police headquarters, Detective Inspector Wilkes said to Detective Sergeant Collins, ‘You take over the burglaries on the south side.’

‘What’s happened to Wong?’

Wilkes told her.

Collins’s eyes gleamed with malice. ‘That Raisin female probably did it.’

‘Why?’

‘I happened to be passing Bill’s room and overheard him protesting that Agatha had not been stalking her ex-husband. But he would say that anyway, being a friend of hers. Now there’s a motive for murder.’

‘Well, while we wait for more news, Collins, go about your duties, which, I may add, do not include listening in to other people’s private conversations.’

After two hours had passed and Agatha still had not put in an appearance, Bill Wong could not bear it any longer and left them to see if he could find out anything more.

‘It’s a good thing it’s a Saturday,’ commented Toni. ‘We’ve got detective agencies to run. We’ve all got to be back by Monday.’

The day dragged on. They all went through to the pub dining room for dinner, with the exception of Patrick Mulligan. He was a retired policeman and said maybe he could get someone along at the station to tell him what was happening to Agatha. In the past, he had proved amazing at getting the police to open up to him.

After dinner, they wearily went back to the bar. Just when they were all about to retire to bed, Patrick reappeared, looking grim.

‘They’re holding Agatha and James for questioning,’ he said.

‘Why?’ demanded Charles. ‘Surely they must know neither of them could have done it.’

Patrick shook his head. ‘They’ve decided they might have been in it together. They’re waiting for the full results of the autopsy. But they think it was a bullet from a gun fired through the window. The window was wide open and there’s a big tree outside. They reckon someone climbed up that tree and shot her.

‘Her father said that Felicity was in her wedding gown. She had gone up to her room to make sure her make-up was okay. He heard a shot but evidently people are always shooting rabbits and things in the woods round here, and Felicity’s room is at the back of the house.’

‘What about the bridesmaids? Surely they heard something?’ said Roy.

‘They had gone ahead to the church. Dad gets impatient and goes up to see what’s keeping his daughter and finds her dead.’

‘That Frenchman,’ said Charles. ‘He was late getting to the church.’

‘Sylvan Dubois? He’s got a cast-iron alibi. About the time they reckon she was being killed, he was filling up his car at a garage just outside Downboys and he’s recorded on the CCTV camera as clear as day. He drives a bright red Jaguar. Plenty of people noticed it on the road from the garage to the church.’

‘But couldn’t he have filled up the car, gone and killed Felicity and then appeared in the church?’ asked Toni.

‘He was seen hurrying from his car straight to the church,’ said Patrick. ‘No one saw him anywhere near the house.’

‘They can’t hold James,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘His best man was surely with him all morning.’

‘Ah, this is where it gets worse. He was seen walking and talking with Agatha in Downboys very early this morning.’

Charles half-rose. ‘I’d better get along there and make sure Agatha has a lawyer.’

‘Her lawyer’s arriving tomorrow and she’s now refused to answer any more questions until he gets here. One of those wretched Naked Servants gave damning evidence that he overheard James saying he wished he could get out of the wedding, to which Agatha suggested, “Shoot her?”’

A groan went up. Toni turned to Harry. ‘I’m staying down here as long as it takes to get Agatha out of that police station.’ She turned to Patrick. ‘If they’re still keeping her tomorrow, you’d better go back with Phil and Mrs Freedman to keep things going. I hate the Bross-Tilkingtons,’ she said passionately. ‘I hate their stupid vulgar gossiping Naked Servants. What sort of people keep four Alsatians around?’

Roy shifted uneasily in his seat. He owed his present position as a public relations officer for a City firm to the training and help he had got from Agatha when he used to work for her. Agatha had grown tired of the public relations business, and before setting up her own detective agency had sold up in London to take early retirement. ‘I’ve got an important meeting,’ he said. ‘I can’t stay after tomorrow.’

‘Oh, piss off then, you wanker,’ snapped Toni, her carefully elocuted vowels slipping back into her former local accent.

‘Well, I never.’ Roy got to his feet and stalked off.

‘We’re all upset,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘There is nothing more we can do tonight. Let’s all go to bed.’

But Roy came back flanked by two detectives. One approached them and said, ‘I am Detective Chief Inspector Boase. This is Detective Sergeant Falcon. This is a very serious case. The Bross-Tilkingtons are much respected in this area. We need to take statements from all of you. The owner of this pub has said we may use his office.’ He consulted a list. ‘Miss Toni Gilmour?’