Agatha Raisin and the Case of the Curious Curate by M. C Beaton

Author:M. C Beaton [Beaton, M. C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-01-27T18:30:00+00:00

SEVEN

AGATHA had decided that Mrs. Essex would have probably returned to the north before she arrived at the cottage, but Mrs. Essex herself answered the door.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said. “Come in. Maybe you can tell me what I should do with this lot. They’re down in the cellar,” she said, leading the way to a door under the stairs.

As Agatha bent her head to follow her through the low door and down shallow stone steps, she wondered if Mrs. Essex had found something gruesome.

“There they are,” said Mrs. Essex.

The small cellar was full of metal wine racks stacked with dusty bottles.

“I wouldn’t have thought your sister would be a wine collector,” said Agatha.

“If you mean fine wines, forget it. This lot is all homemade. See!” She took a bottle out of the nearest rack. A faded white label with the inscription “Jellop’s Brew” had been stuck on the greenish glass.

“Is it any good?” asked Agatha.

“I never touch alcohol, so I wouldn’t know.”

Agatha thought of the duck races. Nothing like a bit of alcohol to get the punters going. And homemade wine would not be considered sinful.

“If it tastes all right, I could maybe take the lot off you for a church fete.”

“What! All of it?”

“Yes, how much would you want?”

“If it’s for the church, you can have it. I could turn this cellar into a big kitchen. The one upstairs is like a cupboard. But you’d better try some first. We’ll take this bottle upstairs and I’ll find you a glass.”

Agatha reflected it was a bit early in the day for alcohol. On the other hand, it was probably pretty mild.

She led the way upstairs and Mrs. Essex followed her carrying the bottle. The living-room smelt damp and musty. “Ruby was too mean to get central heating in,” said Mrs. Essex, as if reading her thoughts. “Have a seat and I’ll get a glass.”

At least she’s being friendly, thought Agatha. I might just find out something.

Mrs. Essex returned with a corkscrew and a glass. She drew the cork and poured Agatha a glass of golden liquid. Agatha sniffed it cautiously. Then she took a sip. It was sweet and she normally didn’t like sweet wine, but it slid pleasantly down her throat and sent a warm glow coursing through her veins.

“So have you found out anything relevant to my sister’s murder?” asked Mrs. Essex.

“No, nothing. All I can think of is that Tristan told her something about somebody and that somebody found out she knew and decided to silence her. Would she keep such information to herself without telling the police?”

Agatha took another large gulp of the wine.

“If she did know something, she might not realize how important it was. She liked secrets and she liked power. Ruby wasn’t a nice person. I know she’s dead. But the fact is that she tormented the life out of me when we were growing up. I remember once…”

Her voice went on, describing the iniquities of Ruby while Agatha refilled her glass, enjoying the effect of the wine.

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