Charles, unconcerned and deaf to her complaints, was watching a morning television show.
Agatha finally bathed and changed and made up her face. Then she fed the cat and switched off the television in the middle of a game show. "Now I'll never know who won the car," complained Charles.
"We'll have some breakfast," said Agatha, "then I'll return my own car and buy a travelling cat box for Scrabble and you can run me to Carsely. I'd better drop in at the police station and return the ring." She sat down at the desk. She would need to write to Jimmy.
"Okay," said Charles indolently.
"By the way, how was it you just walked up to my room? Why didn't the desk phone me?"
"There was no one at the desk and when I looked into the lounge, there was a tortoise-looking old man who told me to go right up."
"Harry," said Agatha bitterly.
"I think he's mad, Agatha. In fact, they're probably all mad in this hotel. Did that ever occur to you? All of them sitting here, year in, year out, their old brains fossilizing?"
"Murder makes everyone seem mad," said Agatha wearily, "including me." She wrote a brief note of apology to Jimmy, and put the ring in its little box. Then she stood up. "Let's go. We'll ear later."
Agatha, followed by Charles, drove to the car rental firm and turned in the car. Then she got in beside Charles and directed him to the police station.
"Want me to come in with you?" asked Charles.
"No, I won't be a moment."
Agatha went into the police station. The police sergeant at the desk was talking to policewoman Trul and Detective Constable Tarret. They watched her in silence as she approached the desk.
Agatha handed the letter and jeweller's box over to the sergeant. "Would you be so very good as to give this to Inspector Jessop?"
He silently took the box and letter. Agatha turned and walked out. "Bitch!" said Trul loudly to her retreating back.
Her face flaming, Agatha got into the car beside Charles. "It was awful," she said. "Jimmy must have told everybody."
"What do you expect, you harlot?" laughed Charles. "Where to?"
"I'll direct you to the car-park in the centre of the town. I've got to buy a cat box."
After she had purchased a cat box and Charles was driving sedately back to the hotel, he suddenly let out an exclamation and braked. "Look at that!"
"What?"
"Casablanca's showing at the cinema."
"So?"
"I adore Casablanca. I want to see it. Showing at two this afternoon."
"We're checking out at twelve."
"One more night. I'll pay. Come on, Aggie."
"Oh, all right. But you go on your own. I can't bear to see that old movie again."
"And I'm starving. You didn't let us stop for breakfast." Mr. Martin agreed that, yes, she could have the room for another night. "He's paying," said Agatha, jerking a thumb at Charles. "We'll have lunch."
They put their coats and the cat box up in the room and then went down to the dining-room. Jennifer, Mary, Daisy and Harry stared openly at them.
"What a bunch of freaks," said Charles cheerfully. "Very Arsenic and Old Lace."
They ate their heavy lunch in silence. Then Charles went up to fetch his coat and go to the cinema. After he had left, Agatha began to feel the silence of the hotel oppressive. She wished she had not agreed to stay another night. What if Jimmy called and made a scene?
She realized the heavy meal and her activities of the night before had made her feel tired. Agatha lay down on the bed next to Scrabble and soon was fast asleep. She did not awake until six o'clock. She struggled up. Where was Charles?
James Lacy walked into the Garden Hotel. The morning television news had reported on the death of the colonel and that Mrs. Raisin was helping police with their inquiries, but there had been nothing further in that morning's news bulletin. He felt it was his duty for old time's sake to go down and see if he could help Agatha.
He was approaching the desk when the slim neat figure of Sir Charles Fraith walked past him.
"Charles!" called James.
"Hullo," said Charles cautiously.
"I came to see if I could help Agatha."
"She's all right," said said Charles. "That old boy died of natural causes. I'm just visiting."
Suddenly Mr. Martin was next to them. He said to Charles, "As you are paying for the room you are sharing with Mrs. Raisin, I would like you to sign the registration form."
"What? Oh, sure," said Charles, wilting before the blazing rage in James's eyes.
James turned on his heel and walked straight out of the hotel.
Charles miserably signed the registration form. Then he decided to go out and get a drink somewhere. If Agatha heard that her precious James had arrived and found out that they were sharing a room, she would be in a terrible rage.
Agatha had unpacked a few clothes. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," she called.
The door opened and Daisy walked in, staring round her curiously.
There was a hissing sound from the bed. Agatha turned and looked at Scrabble. The cat's eyes were blazing and its fur was standing on end.
Agatha looked at Daisy in a sort of wonder.
"It was you, wasn't it?" she said. "It was you all the time."
NINE
"THAT'S Francie's cat," said Daisy. "What are you doing with Francie's cat?"
Agatha, hearing the odd crooning sound in Daisy's voice and looking at the vacant expression on her face, thought suddenly, she's mad. She's been mad all along, and none of us even noticed. But she said calmly, frightened that any loud sound or movement would tip Daisy over the edge, "I found it wandering on the beach." Scrabble was still hissing and spitting, green eyes ablaze.
"Sit down, Daisy. We have to talk."
Daisy sat down. Agatha picked up Scrabble and shut the cat in the bathroom. "The cat's seen you before. Come on. Out with it, Daisy."
"Out with what?" She moved her head from side to side.
"Francie was blackmailing you."
"It wasn't that," said Daisy in a voice of mad reason. "It wasn't that at all. She took my money."
Agatha sat down on the bed. She wondered why she felt so calm. "There's just the two of us, Daisy. No police. Tell me about it."
"It all happened so long ago," said Daisy on a sigh. "You won't tell anyone?"
"No," said Agatha, thinking bleakly as she had no witnesses and no proof, there was nothing she could do about it. The door was a little ajar. She thought of rising and closing it, but did not want to do anything to stop Daisy telling her story.
"My husband had died. I felt guilty. I suppose someone always feels guilty when someone dies." She let out a girlish giggle, more horrible to Agatha's ears than if Daisy had ranted and raved. "We had just had a terrible row, you see, and I felt it was my fault. He accused me of being in love with the colonel."
"And were you ... at that time?"
"Yes, I was very much in love with him. I was so relieved when Hugh died, but I thought God would punish me. I went to Francie to get in touch with Hugh, to find out if he was all right. Somehow Francie must have known something about my feelings for the colonel, seen the way I looked at him. It sounded like Hugh's voice. He said I had never loved him and I must pay. I think my brain was turned with guilt and fright. I gave Francie five thousand pounds."