Dishing the Dirt

“We’ve still got the outstanding murders of Tremund and Herythe,” said Ruby. “Any chance of an introduction to your boss?”


“Yes, of course.”

“What about now?”

“What about our dinner?”

“That can wait.” She leaned forward and gave Simon a lingering kiss on the lips. “Phone her.”

Agatha said she would like to meet Ruby. Charles had left and Roy was moaning about his lack of publicity.

Ruby took her children round to her mother’s, but before they set off in Ruby’s car, Simon said awkwardly, “I wouldn’t mention anything to Agatha about us being an item. She can be controlling.”

“Don’t worry. Won’t say a word.”

*

“We met before,” said Agatha to Ruby. “Simon tells me you are still interested in the murders. Come in. This is a friend of mine, Roy Silver. Roy, Detective Sergeant Ruby Carson.”

“Any press in the village?” asked Roy.

“Couldn’t see any,” said Ruby. “If there are any, they’ll be hanging around the Bannister woman’s cottage.”

“I think I’ll get some fresh air,” said Roy, heading for the door.

After he had gone, Agatha suggested they should sit in the garden because the evening was fine.

Over drinks, Ruby began to question Agatha. And when Agatha answered her questions, her curious bearlike eyes moved from Ruby’s face to Simon’s adoring one. Oh, dear, thought Agatha, I do believe she’s using him and now me as well. Still, information works both ways. She could come in handy. But what’s with young Simon? He looks well and truly smitten.

“There is the matter of Gwen Simple,” said Agatha. “I could never believe she was innocent of the murders her son committed. For some reason, men go weak at the knees when they come across her. I think she uses people, and if there is one thing I cannot bear, it is women who use sex to further their own ends. Don’t you feel the same?”

“Of course,” said Ruby, suddenly taking an intense dislike to Agatha.

“Are you married?” asked Agatha.

“Divorced.”

“Children?”

“Two. Look, thank you for a most interesting talk but I’d better be getting back. Come along, Simon.”

*

Simon was silent on the road back to Oxford. He was also hungry and bewildered. Agatha and Ruby had somehow made him feel like a small boy caught between two domineering aunts. The ring was in his pocket. But he was damned if he would give it to Ruby until there was a more romantic time.

Outside her house, Ruby looked at his worried face and said, “My darling, I am treating you horribly. Let Ruby make it up to you.”

Simon could only be glad that because of the humidity of the evening and the sexual athletics in the front seat, the windows soon became steamed up.

After it was over and Ruby gave him a final kiss goodnight, he got into his own car, wondering why he felt like a small boy who had failed his exams and had been given an apple by a sympathetic teacher.

*

Agatha sleepily answered the door, after peering through the spy hole, to survey a miserable-looking Simon. In the light of the lamp over the door, her sharp eyes took in his rumpled hair, swollen lips and love-bitten neck.

“Need a drink?” she asked, leading the way to the kitchen.

“I need food,” said Simon.

“I’m not the world’s greatest cook,” said Agatha.

“Have you eggs?”

“Yes. Loads.”

“Give me a pan and some butter and I’ll make an omelette.”

With rare forbearance, Agatha waited until he was fed. Then she said cautiously, “You look used.”

“That’s it,” said Simon. He told her what had happened, ending up with, “I feel awful. In her car, in front of her house! What if the children had looked out of the window? What if Granny had brought them back? I’ve got a ring, Agatha. I meant to ask her to marry me.”

“Take it back to the shop,” said Agatha, stifling a yawn.