Dishing the Dirt

Agatha was told that Sarah was on her lunch break and usually went to a café next door. The café was crowded. Agatha stared around at the customers. There was an attractive and elegant woman in the corner. Agatha approached her. “Miss Broody?”


The woman looked at her blankly. A woman at the next table swung round. “That’s me. What do you want?”

There was an empty chair opposite her. Agatha slid into it. Sarah Broody was plain, there was no other word to describe her. She had large pale protruding eyes, bad skin and lank hair. Agatha wondered why, as she was a cosmetics saleswoman, she did not wear make-up.

Agatha explained who she was and then said she was interested in the night of the fire at the school. A red angry spot stood out on the sudden whiteness of Sarah’s face. She began to gather up her things. “I have nothing to say.”

“I only want to know why you lied,” said Agatha, her bearlike eyes boring into Sarah’s face. “It’s either me or the police.”

Sarah, who had half risen, sank back into her chair. “Bastard,” she whispered. “Will I go to prison?”

“No, because I won’t say a word,” said Agatha. “It’s all to do with another matter.”

“He begged me. He said he would marry me if I lied for him. I would have done anything for him. I didn’t sleep with him. He got hold of me the next day. I was dazzled. I said I would and I did. But the minute the schooldays were over, he dropped me. I was furious. I said I would tell the police the truth and he laughed and said I would go to prison for perverting the course of justice and he would even swear I had helped him. He’s evil.”

*

Agatha had a quick meal when she had left and went back to the office. Toni came in and asked her how she had got on and listened, alarmed. Then she said, “But why encourage his father to investigate? He was only a young boy when he was threatening her. I’m sure he’s harmless.”

“Look,” said Agatha, “he tricked that poor girl into lying for him. He burned down the school. Murderers often start being arsonists when they are children.”

“Do me a favour,” said Toni. “If you are that sure he is evil, phone him up and say you have come to the conclusion that because of the huge investigation by the police in Oxford, it is hopeless trying to get anywhere. And after you have done that, phone the police and report your findings about the school fire.”

But Agatha felt her report on the fire could wait. Right at that moment, she could not bear the idea of another interrogation at police headquarters.

However, she phoned Justin on his mobile and explained her reasons for dropping the case. To her relief, he took the news without protest, only saying, “I see what you mean. I’ll tell Dad. He’ll understand.”

Agatha then turned her attention to another outstanding case and got to work. By the end of the day, she felt exhausted. The case meant she had to follow a nimble possible adulteress, on foot, accompanied by Phil with his cameras. The humid weather did not help. Nor did her high-heeled sandals. The woman in question went from shop to shop, then she dropped into a café for coffee before resuming her shopping and then blamelessly returned home to her suspicious husband, carrying bags of purchases while Agatha cursed a woman who wore trainers and never seemed to bother taking her car out.

She returned to her cottage, put a microwave meal in for dinner, fed her cats and finally settled down in front of the television, flicking through the channels to see if she could find a bit of escapism. She finally found an episode of Morse she had not seen before, but after the first half hour, her eyes drooped and she fell asleep.

Charles let himself in later that evening. He saw Agatha asleep on the sofa and decided to leave her and wake her later on. He went upstairs and put his bag in the spare room. He was just about to go downstairs when he heard the doorbell ring. He stood and listened. Then he heard Agatha making her way to the door, saying, “Justin! Can this wait? I’m very tired.”