Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage by Beaton MC

Author:Beaton, MC [Beaton, MC]
Language: deu
Format: epub
Published: 2013-09-05T16:00:00+00:00

Agatha felt better physically by that evening, but apprehensive about the night to come. She knew in her bones that if they were caught breaking into Mrs Comfort’s cottage, they could certainly be arrested for that and also for interfering in police business. Roy Silver phoned from London and Agatha asked him if he could check up on the woman who had posed as Lady Derrington at the health clinic and find out what he could.

They set out at two in the morning. James parked the car beside a farm gate outside the village and they got out and began to walk. It was a dark, moonless night with a rising wind. Beech nuts crunched under their feet and more beech nuts hurtled down from the trees which arched over the narrow road. ‘I’ve never seen so many beech nuts,’ complained Agatha. ‘Is this the sign of a hard winter, or what?’

‘Everything’s always the sign of a hard winter in the country,’ said James. ‘If people go on saying it often enough, they’re bound to be right one of those years. Shh, we’re nearly at the village.’

They moved quietly. The darker bulk of the church rose against the black sky. ‘Not a sign of life anywhere,’ whispered James, but nervous Agatha was sure sleepless old people were sitting behind their net curtains, watching their approach with beady eyes. The silence seemed absolute. Nothing stirred except the wind in the trees.

James quietly opened the front gate to Mrs Comfort’s cottage and once more they made their way around the back. Agatha was comforted somewhat by the secluded darkness of the garden.

James took out a pencil-torch and gave it to Agatha. ‘Shine that at the door,’ he whispered, taking out a bunch of lock-picks.

For the umpteenth time, Agatha wondered what a seemingly respectable retired colonel was doing with a bunch of lock-picks.

In the movies, locks were picked with amazing speed and ease. Agatha hugged herself and shivered as half an hour dragged past.

‘How much longer are you going to be?’ she hissed.

‘Keep your hair on. I’ve done the Yale. It’s the second lock that’s the problem.’

A light came on in a cottage on the other side of the back garden, a shaft of yellow light cutting through the sheltering trees. James froze and Agatha let out a little whimper of alarm. Then the light went out again and they were plunged back into comforting darkness.

At last, just when Agatha was about to suggest they give up the whole mad scheme, James gave a grunt of satisfaction and the door swung open.

He reached for Agatha’s hand and led her in behind him, flashing the pen-light on and off.

‘Upstairs,’ said James. ‘I didn’t notice anywhere in the living-room where she might keep letters or papers.’

Soon the thin beam from his torch was flickering over the chaos of the bedroom. Drawers hung open at crazy angles and the wardrobe stood open as well.

‘Someone has been here before us,’ said Agatha. ‘The police?’

‘I think it’s panic-packing.

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