16 Agatha Raisin and the Perfect Paragon by M. C. Beaton

Author:M. C. Beaton [Beaton, M. C.]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2010-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

EIGHT

FOR the next two days, Agatha worked hard interviewing as many of Smedley’s staff as she could find while Patrick and Phil worked on Jessica’s murder. She was glad she had employed Harry, who seemed to be coping well with two divorce cases. Agatha was beginning to wonder if she could tempt him to forget about university and work for her full-time.

Charles was still absent. She had put him to the back of her mind because she wanted to have dinner alone with Freddy. But as she was driving home on Wednesday, she suddenly remembered with horror that at Mrs. Bloxby’s she had said something about Bill being her only best friend. Charles had accused her before of having a selfish, cavalier attitude to her friends. She would phone him and make amends. But not until the next day.

Agatha, dressed in a very short skirt and a black jersey top and high heels, began to feel excited as she waited for Freddy to arrive. Just as he was ringing the doorbell, her telephone rang. She decided to ignore it.

Freddy planted a warm kiss on her cheek. “You look great,” he said.

He took her to the same restaurant as before and asked her all about the case. Agatha launched into a description of all she had found out, quite forgetting she had meant to ask him all about Zimbabwe.

When she had finished, he gazed into her eyes and said, “You really are amazing, you know.”

Agatha dropped her eyes, the lashes heavy with black mascara, in mock modesty and murmured, “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

“But you are! All this murder and mayhem. You must be very courageous.”

Agatha remembered that she should be asking him about Zimbabwe, and asked, “Did you have an awful time in Africa?”

“It was pretty grim. A gang charged the farmhouse. They’d already killed most of my workers. We got out the back way just in the nick of time with only what we were wearing.”

“We?” asked Agatha.

“I mean, me and my houseboy. It’s a terrible situation. Because Mugabe has driven off all the farmers, the harvests are rotting in the fields and the country is starving. Oh, that reminds me. I’m leaving tomorrow for a short break.”

Agatha’s face fell. “For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks.”

“Let’s hope I have these cases cleared up before you get back. Where are you going? Not back to Zimbabwe, I hope.”

“No, I’m going to see, er, friends in South Africa. But I’ll see you as soon as I get back. Anyway, let’s make the most of our evening together.” His eyes looked long and steadily into hers and Agatha got the unsaid message—the night as well.

That was when a little twinge of panic assailed Agatha. She had shaved her legs the day before, but she really should have gone for a wax. The evening was humid and she nervously imagined she could feel hair sprouting through the sheerness of her black stockings. It was a while since she had found the courage to look at her naked body in a full-length mirror.

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