Dishing the Dirt

“Oh, Charles,” said Agatha weakly. “What are you doing here?”


“Came to find you. The police want to talk to you again, so I thought I’d come and hold your hand. Maybe I’d better drive you. Been swilling the vodka, have you?”

Agatha made the introductions. “I’d better go,” she said to Tris.

“When will I see you again?” he asked.

“I’ll phone you,” said Agatha.

*

“How on earth did you find me?” asked Agatha, as they walked to Charles’s car.

“James told me about your interviewing Tristram Davent and knowing your predilection for unsuitable men, I went to the address James gave me and his sister told me where you were. Leave your car. I’ll take you to pick it up in the morning.”

When Agatha was seated in the passenger seat, Charles turned to her and asked curiously, “Why aren’t you livid with me for breaking up your date with fancy pants back there?”

“Drive on. He has to pass the car park to get to his home. I don’t want to see him again.”

“Okay.” Charles left the car park and swung round onto Port Street.

“It’s like this,” said Agatha. She told him what had happened in the restaurant. “It wasn’t just what he said,” she explained. “I’ve been a bag of nerves since the attempt on my life and he actually scared me.”

“Why on earth did you agree to a date with him?”

“I’m a detective! Remember!” howled Agatha. “I thought he might come up with some more interesting information on Jill.”

“Be honest, Aggie. He asked you for a date and you jumped at it. Raise your standards. A man with highlights in his hair.”

“It could be natural.”

“Rubbish.”

A tear ran down Agatha’s cheek. “J-just take me home and b-bugger off,” she sobbed.

Charles swung into a lay-by and switched off the engine.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. Don’t cry. I’ve never seen you so rattled before. Cheer up. We’ll go to your cottage, have a drink and watch something silly on television. I know you won’t give up. So what’s your next move?”

Agatha dried her eyes and sniffed loudly. “I’m going round the Carsely gardens tomorrow. They’re open to the public. I want to see if anyone’s got wolfsbane.”

“If they had the stuff, they’ve probably uprooted it by now. Don’t worry. I’ll come with you. Do you know how to recognise it?”

“I’ve Googled lots of photos. It’s sometimes called monkshood and the poison is aconite.”

“Right. We’re on for tomorrow. But I do think you should tell Bill about your dinner. I mean, the man was threatening.”

“Maybe,” said Agatha, but feeling she could not bear another questioning as to why she had agreed to have dinner with Davent. She was only in her early fifties. But had she fallen so low, she wondered, that she would consider any man who asked her out attractive?

*

The following day, when they set out to tour the gardens, was sunny. Great fleecy clouds were tugged like galleons across a large blue Cotswold sky by a light breeze. “Not all the gardens are open to the public, surely,” said Charles.

“We’ll pretend we don’t know. I hope this isn’t a complete waste of time. Someone Jill got on the wrong side of in America could have followed her over.”

“Then,” said Charles, “one would think that person, having murdered her, would clear off back to the States. Okay. There’s Tremund. But whoever our murderer is, he might have thought Tremund had dug up something. But what about Herythe and the attempt on your life? That suggests someone closer to home.”

“Let’s try Victoria Bannister first,” said Agatha. “Now, she is deranged.”

“Is her garden open?”

“Don’t know. We’ll pretend it is.”

*