“But what?” demanded Agatha eagerly. “You’ve still got one, haven’t you?”
She flushed again. “It arrived some time after he’d gone from Portsmouth. My husband was away on business and I had the flu, so I put it in the kitchen drawer and thought I’d give it to the postman when I felt better. But then I forgot about it and I was too ashamed to hand it over after all this time.”
Agatha felt her heart beating hard with excitement. “If you give it to us,” she said, “we’ll give it to the Worcester police. You don’t need to worry. We’ll just say it got stuck under the doormat.”
“Oh, you couldn’t say that,” said Mrs. Laver. “People would think I didn’t clean under the doormat in my own home.”
Agatha looked at her impatiently.
“Then we’ll say it came through the letter-box and slipped under a crack in the skirting in the hall.”
“But I don’t have crack in the skirting. This is a very sound house!”
Agatha felt like tearing her hair in frustration.
She forced herself to say gently, “Then I’ll just tell them the truth. You were ill. You put it in the kitchen drawer and only remembered it when we called.”
“I won’t get into trouble?”
“Not at all. I am very friendly with the police and have helped them on many cases.”
“Oh, well, I s’pose… ”
She got up and went through to the kitchen.
Agatha looked at Roy and rolled her eyes. What if the silly woman changed her mind?
But Mrs. Laver came back and handed Agatha a thick brown envelope. Agatha tried not to snatch it.
She stood up. “We’ll be on our way.”
“Aren’t you going to see what’s in it?” asked Mrs. Laver.
“No, we’ll leave that job to the police. Come along, Roy.”
They made their escape. As they were getting into the car, Mrs. Laver called after them, “I’d better take a note of your name and address. You’re Mrs. Anderson, didn’t you say?”
“Drive off!” hissed Agatha to Roy. “Let the silly woman think I’m Mrs. Anderson in case she calls the police.”
Roy accelerated off.
“Now when we’re clear of this place, stop somewhere,” ordered Agatha, “and let’s have a look at what we’ve got.”
Roy drove for several street and then pulled into the side of the road.
Agatha took out the envelope, which she had stuffed in her handbag. She was about to open it when Roy grabbed her hand.
“I don’t like this,” he said. “You’ll get us into trouble. This is police evidence.”
“I found it, they didn’t,” growled Agatha. “Get off, Roy. I’ll take the responsibility.”
She opened the envelope. It was crammed with fifty-pound notes. “Must be; blackmail money,” she said. “There’s a letter.”
She pulled out one sheet of paper and opened it. She read, “This is all I can afford. I think you’re a wicked, evil man. After all we were to each other, I can’t believe you would do this to me. Harriet.” Agatha counted out the money. “There’s five thousand pounds here!”
“Is there an address?” asked Roy.
“Yes, 14A, Hanson Street, Portsmouth.”
“I’d better stop at a stationer’s and get a street map.”
When they had found a map, Hanson Street turned out to be a small street running off London Road in the centre of the town.
“Back to that car-park,” grumbled Roy, “and let’s hope there’s a space left.”
They had to wait a frustrating half an hour for a car to drive out and leave them a space. They walked to Hanson Street. Fourteen A turned out to be the basement of a shop.
“Doesn’t look very prosperous,” said Agatha as they walked down the steps.
Roy rang the bell. A tired-looking middle-aged woman answered the door.
“Harriet?” asked Agatha.
“Yes, who are you?”
“We’ve brought you this.” Agatha handed her the envelope full of money.
Harriet turned a muddy colour.
“Are you the police?”
“No,” said Agatha. “Just a couple of people trying to make sure that blackmailing bastard doesn’t continue to ruin people from beyond the grave. Can we come in?”
Clutching the envelope tightly, Harriet led them into a large room strewn with coloured fabrics and dominated by a sewing machine.
“You’re a dressmaker?” asked Roy.
“Yes, it’s a living,” said Harriet wearily. She seemed drained of energy.
She sat down and said, “You can’t blackmail me as well. It was all for nothing.”
“We’ve only come to help you,” said Agatha. “We should have given that money and letter to the police. But we didn’t.”
“Thank you. I could do with the money.”
“Let’s introduce ourselves,” said Agatha briskly. “I’m Agatha Raisin and this is Roy Silver. I found John Shawpart’s body and decided to find out what I could. You don’t want us to tell the police about you and I don’t want you to tell the police about me. I’ll tell you what happened.”
So Agatha told her all about Evesham, about the house being burnt down, about the other women who had been blackmailed.
“Why didn’t I even guess he was so evil?” sighed Harriet. “Move some of those fabrics and sit down. I’m Harriet Worth.”
“So how did he get his claws into you?” asked Agatha.
“In pretty much the same way as he got hold of those other women,” said Harriet. “I went to the salon to get my hair done. Unlike those other women, my marriage was happy. Luke’s got a good job with a computer company. Mr. John asked me out and of course I refused. But he laughed it off and he was a wizard at doing my hair and Luke liked my new appearance so I kept going.
“Then John started to look at me in a sort of pitying way and I asked him sharply what was up. At first he said, nothing, but I insisted. He said with a great show of reluctance-he knew what Luke looked like because Luke had called in for me a couple of times at the salon-that he had been out the evening before at a restaurant and had seen Luke with a young blonde. He then made me promise not to tell Luke anything and I did. But I began to get suspicious. It was coming up to Christmas and Luke was often late at the office. He said they were all working flat-out on a new game.”
Harriet heaved a deep sigh. A truck rumbled past on the road above their heads and a child ran a stick along the railings at the top of the steps.
Harriet went on. “I called up at the office one evening. I never usually went there; in fact, come to think of it, I had only been there once before when I forgot my keys. Luke had a new secretary, a pretty young blonde. When I walked in, they had their heads close together and were laughing about something.
“After that, I waited outside the office one evening. I saw them come out together and followed them. Luke and his secretary went into a pub.
“I was devastated. When he at last came home, I asked him why he was so late and he said as usual, pressure of work. I told him I had seen him go to the pub with his secretary and he told me with a sheepish laugh that they had both been working so hard, they had just dropped in for a drink before they both went home.
“I must have gone a bit mad with jealousy because I agreed to go out with John. We had an awful lot to drink. John said, ‘You can’t go home in that state; the salon’s just round the corner, I’ll make us some coffee.’ But once in the salon, he took me through to the back and began to take off my clothes and I was so drunk, it all seemed to be happening in a dream. I let him make love to me and then I passed out.”
There was a long silence. Agatha and Roy sat amongst the bright swathes of fabric and waited, although both knew in their hearts what was coming. How could I even have let that bastard touch me, raged Agatha inwardly.
“I told my husband I had gone out with my friend, Julie, to a hen party and had drunk a bit too much and stayed at her place. Then a week later-I’d stopped going to John to get my hair done-he phoned me. He said we had better meet. There was something threatening about his voice. I met him at the salon after hours. He had taken photos of both of us naked-awful photos. He must have set up the camera after I passed out. He said if I paid him five thousand pounds, he would let me have the negatives.”