M Beaton: Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist

“A world in which your husband screws Rose with one eye on her money? Some gentleman! Come on, Olivia. What on earth possessed a sensible woman like you to do such a dreadful thing?”

“You don’t know what love is,” jeered Olivia. “I’ve seen you running after James like some old dog looking for a pat from its master. I love George. Without him, my life would have been nothing. The Roses of this world are expendable.”

“We’d better go to the police,” said Agatha heavily. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, dear? Your little moment of Girls’ Own glory. ‘Brave Agatha of the Upper Sixth solves the mystery when police were baffled.’ But you’re not going to.”

. “You can’t very well stick a knitting needle in me here,” said Agatha. “People about.”

“Do you think I’m going to leave my George with all the shame of being married to a murderess? You’ve no proof, and you never will have!”

Olivia rose suddenly and turned and ran out of the bar, leaving her handbag on the table. Taken aback for only a moment, Agatha recovered and then leaped to her feet and set off in pursuit. Olivia was heading for the pool area. Blinded by the rain, Agatha ran hard after her.

Olivia veered round the pool and jumped straight into the boiling sea.

“Olivia!” screamed Agatha.

She ran to the edge and crouched down, peering through the torrent of rain. Olivia’s head appeared between two huge waves and then she struck out strongly, swimming away from the shore.

Agatha screamed and screamed, but the rolls of thunder drowned out her voice.

A watery shaft of sunlight shone briefly down through the black clouds and Agatha saw Olivia’s head rise above a wave and then she disappeared.

Agatha turned and ran back to the hotel, shouting for help.

An hour later she was huddled in a blanket in the manager’s office when Pamir came in. He stood for a moment looking down at her, and then said, “No sign of her. Again I ask you, Mrs. Raisin: Why did you not call us first?”

“Because I had no proof! I told you!”

“But now, because of you, we definitely have no proof, and we have only your word for it.”

“You don’t think she drowned herself for fun!”

“Again, we have only your word for it. You could have thrown her in.”

“Oh, don’t be so silly. The waiters saw her run out of the bar.”

“She could have been running away from you. No proof, Mrs. Raisin.”

Agatha suddenly sat up, her eyes gleaming. “I know. She said when she stabbed Harry she buried the knitting needle in the sand on the beach.”

“Wait here,” he said curtly and went out.

Charles came in fifteen minutes later. “I’ve been trying and trying to get to you, Aggie, but you seem to be suspect number one. What went on?”

So Agatha told him about her brainwave, about confronting Olivia and how Olivia had confessed to the murders and run off into the sea.

“Why didn’t you wait for me?” asked Charles. “I was only round at the garage getting petrol.”

“How was I to know that?” wailed Agatha. “For all I knew you might have been trawling north Cyprus looking for a female tourist to bed.”

“Nasty But I’ll forgive you because you must be in shock. Pamir’s swearing about there being no proof.”

“She buried the knitting needle she used to kill Harry in the beach at Salamis. I hope they find it in this storm. And I hope her fingerprints are on it or they’ll start saying I killed Harry and tried to pin the blame on Olivia.”

Pamir came in again and Agatha looked up hopefully. “Find the knitting needle?”

“You are free to go.”

“Why?” Agatha’s eyes gleamed. “You’ve found something?”

“We had already searched their rooms several times when they were out,” said Pamir, sitting down, “but we did not find anything.”

“You didn’t search me,” said Agatha.

“Yes, your villa was searched when you were out.”

“So what did you find to incriminate Olivia? You must have found something or you would not be letting me go.”

“We found the knitting needle.”

“A sharpened knitting needle. I knew it!” cried Agatha. But how did you find it? Where? Why? She only had to clean it and throw it away anywhere on the island.”

“We are lucky she did not. It was one of my sharp-eyed policeman. We returned to search her hotel room for the last time. Believe me, we had taken everything apart. And then this policeman saw a little white knob of plaster in a stain on the ceiling. We knew about the stain. The man in the room above had let his bath over-run and it had soaked the ceiling. He scraped away the little bit of white plaster and dug into the ceiling. While the plaster was still damp, she had simply rammed the needle up into the ceiling. It had a sharpened point and went in easily. Then she had bought a little bit of plaster from a hardware shop and sealed up the hole.”

Agatha gasped. “It was a wonder she didn’t get it out and throw it into the sea.”

“Not at all. She had no reason to. And digging out again after the damp plaster had hardened might have alerted us to its whereabouts, always assuming we were clever enough to guess that she had done it.”

“You mean, I was clever enough to guess she had done it,” said Agatha.

“How’s George taking it?” asked Charles.

“He’s a shattered man. He says if Rose were alive today, he murder her himself. Seems she lured him with a promise of bailing him out. He said he hated making love to her but he was desperate for money. Turns out he had asked Harry Tembleton for money and Harry said he would only give it to Mrs. Debenham and George did not want Olivia to know. Harry said that instead he would take them on holiday. George said Rose promised she would give him the money when they got back to England. He said that Olivia had a complete nervous breakdown about three years ago. He hadn’t told her about his debts in case that tipped her over the edge again.”

“I must ask the all-important question,” said Charles. “Are we really free to go?”

“You’ll need to come to police headquarters and make a complete statement, Mrs. Raisin, and sign it. After that, you are free to go.”

Agatha pulled the blanket closely around her still wet clothes. “Aren’t you going to thank me for having solved the murders?” she asked.

“I am sure we would have got there, sooner or later,” said Pamir. “In which case Mrs. Debenham would still be alive to stand trial. No, I am not grateful to you.”

“Well, I’m going back to the villa for a hot bath,” said Agatha. “I suppose that is all right?”

“Yes, just go!”

Agatha got into her car outside while Charles went off to collect his. She lit a cigarette. Above, the storm clouds were rolling away but a chilly breeze was blowing from the sea.

At the villa, she bathed and changed her clothes.

She had just arrived downstairs when the phone rang. “I’ll get it,” she called to Charles whom she could hear moving about the kitchen.

Wondering whether she was wise to answer it for it might be some reporter, she said cautiously, “Yes?”

“Agatha,” came James’s voice.

Agatha sat down in a chair by the phone. “James,” she said weakly. “Where are you?”

“Turkey. Istanbul.”

“Did you find any proof against Mustafa?”

“As it turned out, I didn’t have to. By the time I caught up with him in Istanbul, he was dead, shot by the Turkish mafia.”

“Why? I mean was he dealing in drugs?”

“He owed the Turkish mafia money for a drugs’ consignment and the silly bugger gave them a cheque that bounced so they shot him. What’s been happening?”