Agatha called a meeting of her staff early that evening and told them what she had learned from the former Mrs Beech.
‘Lucky you,’ said Toni. ‘I wouldn’t mind going to Florida.’
‘I may as well see if there’s any connection between this Art person and Beech. There’s not much can be done here at the moment that the police can’t. Did Amy say anything about telling the police about the prostitution racket?’
‘No, not a thing,’ said Patrick. ‘She said she’d been on holiday in Florida and that’s where she met her new husband. I never heard that she’d mentioned this fellow Art.’
‘It all seems a bit coincidental,’ said Toni. ‘I mean, how fortunate this Richards turned up at the right moment to rescue her and comes from Mircester as well.’
‘What if the whole thing is a pack of lies?’ said Phil. ‘I mean, you do have a reputation, Agatha.’
‘Reputation for what?’ demanded Agatha furiously.
‘For being a good detective,’ said Phil. ‘She’s no doubt read in the papers or heard from the police about you finding the body. So the best way to keep you close is to hire you. Even better, if she simply used the divorce money to go to Florida for plastic surgery, it’s a good excuse to get out of the country and off the case.’
‘And,’ put in Patrick, ‘this Richards may be involved in the murder. She was definitely out of the country, but where was he? I think you should wait here for a bit, Agatha.’
The wind howled round the old building, and sleet pattered against the windows.
‘I’m going,’ said Agatha. ‘I’ll visit her again this evening and see if I can catch her with Bunchie.’
‘Who’s Bunchie?’ asked Toni.
‘It’s her pet name for him. Talking about pets, how’s Paul?’
‘Very well, thank you,’ said Toni primly.
‘Seeing a lot of him?’
‘Has this anything to do with the agency?’ asked Toni angrily.
‘Well, no, but—’
‘So mind your own business.’
‘May I remind you, Mizz Gilmour, that you are speaking to your employer?’
‘But not my mother.’ Toni slammed out of the office.
‘You asked for that,’ said Phil. ‘Leave the girl alone or she might marry Paul to spite you.’
Agatha sat alone in the office after the others had left, wondering whether it was really worthwhile going to Florida or had Amy been spinning some tale. Forget Florida, she suddenly thought. Perhaps it was a ruse to get her out of the country. Surely the answer to Beech’s death lay in the Cotswolds. Uneasy thoughts about young Simon Black also troubled her mind. What if he was killed in Afghanistan? The names of the dead were now well publicized. Had Toni been falling in love with him? Why on earth had she interfered? A nasty little conscience was reminding her that Toni was not her daughter, and even if she were, she should stop interfering in the girl’s life.
She gave herself a shake. Let the police handle the Florida end. She put on her coat and went out into the biting cold and made her way to police headquarters, where she informed the desk that she had important news for Inspector Wilkes.
She was eventually ushered through into an interview room. ‘What is it now?’ asked Wilkes wearily.
Agatha told him everything she had learned from Amy Richards, consulting a sheaf of notes from time to time.
When she had finished, Wilkes surveyed her cynically. ‘I would have thought, from past experience, that you would have kept this information to yourself, particularly as the woman has engaged your services.’
‘I cannot quite believe the Florida story, or about the fortuitous meeting with Richards. I think, for some reason, she wants me out of the way.’
‘You being the great detective, who if left here would solve a case the police can’t?’
‘Something like that,’ mumbled Agatha.
‘Well, at least you are showing some sense at last. Wait there.’
So Agatha waited, longing for a cigarette, tracing patterns on the scarred table in front of her with one fingernail.
At last Wilkes came back with Detective Constable Alice Peterson. He switched on a tape recorder and took Agatha all through her story again. When she had finished, he asked, ‘Did Mrs Richards ask you not to tell the police any of this?’
‘Not exactly. I know she didn’t want me to tell you in case you thought she was some sort of tart. Please, for my sake, go easy on her. I need this contract.’
‘It’s not as if we owe you any favours,’ said Wilkes.
‘You do,’ said Agatha. ‘Think of all the times I’ve helped you out.’
Wilkes sighed. ‘We’ll be as tactful as possible. We will say we’ve traced her recent movements courtesy of the FBI and take it from there.’
And with that, Agatha had to be content.
Chapter Four
Agatha arrived back at her cottage to find Bill Wong waiting for her. ‘I’ve been hanging around for ages,’ complained Bill, seated in the kitchen with one cat round his neck and another on his lap. Agatha was glad to find the heat was back on.
After explaining that she had been at police headquarters and why, Agatha asked, ‘Why are you here? Any more questions?’
‘No, I haven’t heard about your latest, but I have heard about Paul Finlay.’
‘What?’
‘He was married until two years ago. His wife divorced him on grounds of cruelty. She got custody of their two children.’
‘Was it mental cruelty, or physical cruelty?’
‘Both.’
Agatha covered her face with her hands. ‘I’m in bad trouble.’
‘You’re in bad trouble? What about Toni? We’ve got to warn her.’
‘Yes, yes. It’s not only that. I’ve done a bad thing.’
‘Again?’
‘It’s not funny. Young Simon Black who worked for me was keen on Toni. She’s too young to get married, Bill!’
‘And you didn’t want to lose a good detective,’ said Bill cynically.
‘I told Simon to wait three years and then I wouldn’t stand in his way. He joined the army and he’s now in Afghanistan.’
‘Agatha, are you sure your jealousy of Toni doesn’t make you think up these horrible plots?’
‘No, no. I care for the girl. There was something unstable about Simon.’
‘Then let’s hope anyway he doesn’t die a hero. Tell me the latest.’
Agatha glanced at her watch. ‘I hope to visit Amy this evening. I’d better go. I want her to think I’m off to Florida and then I’ll go underground.’
‘She’ll see you around.’
‘I’ll disguise myself. But I must get a look at this husband of hers. What are we going to do about Toni?’
‘I’ll go right now and see her. I’ve got the evening off.’
‘Don’t tell her about Simon!’
‘No, I think that’s up to you.’
Paul Finlay mounted the narrow stairs to Toni’s flat with a feeling of excitement. He felt the fact she had asked him for dinner and had said she had something important to tell him was propitious in the least. Toni was all he desired: young, pretty and surely malleable. A woman’s duty was to support her husband at all times and agree with him.
He had never been in Toni’s flat before and expected dolls on the sofa and posters of pop groups on the walls. But although it was small, it was furnished in excellent taste. Bookshelves on one wall were full of paperbacks and hardbacks. Two framed prints decorated the opposite wall, a Paul Klee and a Cotswold landscape by an artist he did not recognize. A round table was set at the window.
‘Hello, Paul,’ said Toni nervously. ‘Want a drink before dinner?’
‘What have you got?’
‘Beer or wine.’
‘Wine will be fine. What’s that?’ He took the bottle from her. ‘My dear innocent – Blockley Merlot!’ Blockley was a village near Moreton-in-Marsh.