Dishing the Dirt

“You’re in shock. Upstairs to bed with you.”


Agatha drained the gin and tonic in one gulp and then allowed Phil to lead her upstairs. She sat groggily on the edge of the bed while Phil removed her shoes. Then he managed to get her under the duvet and switched on the electric blanket.

When he finally went downstairs again, he reflected that he had never seen Agatha in such a state of shock before. There was something about these murders that had got to her. Phil felt he owed a great debt to Agatha. Who else would have recognised his talent as a photographer and employed a man like himself in his late seventies?

He decided to phone Charles. Agatha had a list of numbers pinned up next to the phone. There were two numbers for Charles: his home phone and his mobile. Beside the mobile number, Agatha had scribbled, Never answers.

He phoned the home number. Charles’s gentleman’s gentleman, Gustav, answered the phone. He asked who Phil was and what was his business.

Phil said he was phoning because Agatha Raisin was in dire need of help. “I am afraid,” said Gustav, “that Sir Charles is unavailable,” and rang off.

Gustav jumped nervously when Charles came up behind him and asked, “Who was on the phone?”

“Someone selling double glazing,” said Gustav. He detested Agatha and often feared that his boss might marry her.

Charles was aware that Gustav’s eyes had a way of rolling up to the ceiling when he was lying. “So what does Agatha want?” he demanded. “Tell the truth or you can kiss your bonus goodbye.”

“She’s always bothering you,” protested Gustav. “It was some man called Marshall said she was in need of help.”

*

Phil was relieved when Toni and Charles arrived at the same time. Charles was told everything that had been happening and how they were frightened that Agatha was cracking up under the strain.

Now that Agatha was being monitored, Phil decided to go to his home in the village. Charles watched Toni fidgeting around and then asked, “What’s up?”

“I had a date for tonight but I cancelled it.”

“Not one of your old men?” asked Charles, knowing Toni’s penchant for dating older men.

“No, he’s a medical student. Only a few years older than me. He’s nice.”

“Phone him up and uncancel,” said Charles. “It doesn’t take two of us to baby-sit.”

*

Agatha awoke an hour later. Her head ached and her mouth felt dry. Poor Bob Dell, she thought. Then she suddenly sat up in bed. What was it that Bob had said as she had left? I am not alone.

Did that mean someone else in this village was masquerading as a woman?

She slowly got up, her mind racing. Charles heard her moving about and came upstairs. “You look a wreck,” he said heartlessly.

She clutched his shoulders. “Have you heard what happened to Bob Dell?”

“Yes. Bill Wong called when you were asleep. Poor Bob died in hospital an hour ago.”

“Oh, how awful. But there’s something else. He was a cross-dresser. When I wondered why he didn’t choose to live in a town where he might meet more of his own kind, he said, ‘I am not alone.’”

“So?”

“So maybe there’s someone in this village that everyone thinks is a woman.”

“You smell of old gin, sweetie. Have a shower and come downstairs and eat something.”

When Agatha finally appeared, washed and wearing a change of clothes, she looked like her old self.

“I’m making you tea and toast,” said Charles. “No more booze for you.”

“I’d like a large glass of mineral water,” said Agatha. “I’ve got a mouth like a gorilla’s armpit.”

“You do have a way with words. All right. One glass coming up. But eat some toast.”

“Who could it be?” fretted Agatha. “I must look at my notes.”

“Toast and tea first. Notes afterwards.”

Agatha dutifully ate two slices of buttered toast washed down with tea. “Rats! It can’t be Gwen Simple.”

“No,” agreed Charles. “Much as you’d like to think so. Who else is there?”