M.C. Beaton - The Day the Floods Came

“You mean a bore?”

“No, he’s very handsome. Turned out to be not what I thought. But when he’s not talking about the case, he is a bit robotic. Never chats , you know. See you on Friday evening.”

Agatha put down the phone feeling much better. There was something in John Armitage’s character that made her feel, somehow, diminished. She felt the old rebellious Agatha was back. She probably wouldn’t see much of John Armitage again. She and the murders had been a diversion.

♦

To her horror, Roy, descending from the London train on Friday evening, looked like a plucked chicken. He’d had a buzz-cut, which did nothing to enhance his small head and weak features. He was wearing a scarlet shirt with a psychedelic tie under a suede jacket. His thin legs were encased in tight blue jeans and his feet in high-heeled boots.

“Like it?” he said, pirouetting in front of her. “The latest in the media-chic look.”

“You look like an orphan,” said Agatha.

He put an arm around her. “You never did move with the times.” He popped on a pair of sun-glasses with wraparound shades. “There!”

“Oh, God,” said Agatha. “Never mind.”

♦

John Armitage had just completed the first chapter of his new book and was feeling dissatisfied with it. Somehow Agatha had made him feel that his books were not quite real. He might just pop over to her cottage and discuss it with her.

But as he opened his cottage door, he saw Agatha drive past with a young man in the passenger seat. He retreated indoors. Was that the young man who had stayed with Agatha before and had been described by Mrs. Anstruther-Jones as Mrs. Raisin’s toy-boy? Surely not. But he had not thought of Agatha in any sexual way. He went back to his desk and switched on the computer. He typed in ‘Chapter Two’ and then stared at the screen. Then he remembered Agatha saying something about asking someone for work. Roy Silver, that was it. So there was nothing to stop him from visiting her.

He switched off the computer and went to Agatha’s cottage. Roy answered the door to him.

“I’m John Armitage,” he said.

“And I’m Roy Silver. Agatha’s getting changed. We’re going out for dinner. Come in.”

John followed him into Agatha’s living-room. “Drink?” said Roy. He seemed very much at home.

“Whisky, thanks. Agatha said something about phoning you asking for work.”

“Oh, is that what she told you?”

“Well, yes. What other reason could there be?”

Roy gave him a salacious wink.

“Oh,” said John, feeling discomfited. What on earth could Agatha see in this weird creature?

He took a proffered glass of whisky from Roy. “Thanks. Known Agatha long?”

“Since I was sixteen. I started work in her business as an office boy. She trained me up to be a public relations officer. I owe her a lot.”

“Did she tell you about this murder we’d been working; on?”

“That? Yes, she said something about you wanting to drop the whole thing.”

“Not exactly. There’s still a lot to discuss.”

“Maybe some other time.”

Agatha came into the room. She was wearing a soft blouse of swirling colours and a long black skirt slit up the side. John noticed she had excellent legs.

He drained his glass. “Just called in to say hullo. See you again, Agatha.”

He bent down and kissed her cheek. Agatha looked up at him in surprise.

When he had left, she asked Roy, “Why did he call?”

“Just to say hullo. I managed to imply we were having an affair.”

“What on earth did you do that for?”

“I don’t know. Maybe a sudden burst of malice. He’s very good-looking, but there’s something smug about him.”

“I wouldn’t call him smug.”

“Anyway, trust me, he will now look at you with new eyes.”

“Roy, he will now find me pathetic.”

♦

Roy had brought Agatha a new wig. The heavy waves of hair hung down on either side of her face, making it look thinner, and the glasses were large, with fake tortoiseshell rims. She tried both on before they left the cottage the following morning. “Great,” said Roy, surveying the effect. “Doesn’t look like you at all.”

“I’d better take them off now and you can stop somewhere on the road to Evesham and I’ll put them on again. If John sees me in the wig, he’ll know I’ve gone back to investigating and he might turn all moral and phone the police.”

Roy looked shocked. “He wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“Maybe not. But I’m not going to risk it.”

On Agatha’s instructions, Roy drove into Broadway, instead of taking the bypass.

He pulled into a parking place and waited while Agatha put on the wig and glasses. “Property values here must have soared after they got the bypass,” said Roy, looking around. “I remember driving through here when I first came down to see you and the street was jammed with cars and trucks. Are you ready? And who do we try first? We should see Zak.”

“Let’s try Sharon Heath first. I’d like to know the repercussions from the attack on Joanna.”

“Talking about Joanna, maybe we should try the hospital later in case she’s recovered consciousness.”

“We’ll phone first,” said Agatha. “No point in going all the way to Redditch to find she’s still not being allowed visitors.”

Sharon was at home and delighted to see them. They didn’t even need to worry about broaching the subject of the attack on Joanna. It was the first thing Sharon wanted to talk about.

“It was ever so odd,” she said when they were seated in the Heaths’ cluttered living room. Mrs. Heath was not at home, so there had been no hurried cleaning. The remains of a pizza lay on the coffee table surrounded by empty Coke cans and bottles. “I mean,” Sharon went on, “she never worked late before. She said she had a couple of accounts to send out. The rest of us left and then I remembered I had left something in my desk.”

“What?” asked Agatha quickly.

“Eh?”

“I mean, what had you forgotten?”

“Oh, er, a scarf. Anyway, I went back for it but she was at her own computer. But she was found at Kylie’s computer. The police think she may have been looking for something in the e-mail and they checked out Kylie’s computer, but there was no e-mails on it at all. Wiped clean, the policeman said. You should see Mr. Barrington these days. Ever such a state he’s in. But when the attack took place, he and his missus were at the lawyers. She’s asking for a divorce.”

Sharon’s eyes gleamed with pleasure at imparting all this I delicious gossip.

“Is there any other way into Barrington’s, apart from through the front door?” asked Roy.

“Yes, that’s where that bastard, George, got into trouble. There’s a back door into the workshop and from there you can get along to the offices. The door was unlocked. Mr. Barrington was shouting at him something dreadful. George, he said that he never bothered because he always locked everything up after everyone had gone, and how was he to know someone would creep in and biff Joanna on the head. You never can tell what Joanna’s up to. In my opinion, she fancies herself a cut above the rest of us. If she’d told us what she was up to, we’d have stayed with her. So you’re still going to do the telly programme?”

“Oh, yes,” lied Agatha. “But these things take time. As it is all going to be filmed in the disco, we’d better go and see Zak and his father. Will they be at the club now?”

“Might be. They’ve got to work to clean up the mess from last night. I was there and it was full of people.” She peered at them anxiously. “You are going to ask me questions about me-self? I mean, you’re not going to drop everything to do a programme on Kylie’s death?”