Agatha Raisin and The Wizard Of Evesham by M. C Beaton

Author:M. C Beaton [Beaton, M. C]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery, Humor, Crime, Thriller
ISBN: 9780312970628
Publisher: Thorndike Press
Published: 1986-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

After Agatha had washed her feet and put on clean tights and shoes, she j6ined Charles in the kitchen and said, “Portsmouth.”

“What about it?”

“That’s where he used to have a business. We could go there and talk to hairdressers and see if there was any scandal about him.”

“Now? What if the police come calling?”

“So what? We’re not leaving the country.”

“Do you know Portsmouth? Huge place.”

“We’ll get a hotel and look through the Yellow Pages and phone up hairdressers.”

“Waste of time, Aggie. We go to Mircester Library and look up the Yellow Pages for Portsmouth and phone from here.”

Agatha sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I just wanted to get away.”

“Cheer up. If we find out anything on the phone, then we’ll go.”

Just then, the phone rang. It was Mrs. Bloxby. “I think I may have discovered your Maggie for you.”

“Who is she?” said Agatha eagerly. “Where does she live?”

“I may be wrong but I think you want a Maggie Henderson. She lives at nine, Terrace Road, in Badsey. She’s a schoolteacher.”

“How did you find out?”

“I simply give her description, such as it was, and her first name to various people in the surrounding parishes. It may turn out to be the wrong Maggie.”

“We’ll try anyway. Thanks a lot.”

Agatha said goodbye and rang off. She told Charles her news.

“Let’s leave Portsmouth for just now and try this Maggie,” he said. “Badsey’s only a few miles away.”

But when they drove to Badsey and found the correct address it was to find that Maggie Henderson taught at a school at Worcester and was not expected back until about five o’clock. “And with our luck,” said Agatha gloomily, “her husband will be home at the same time. Do we go to Worcester?”

“No,” said Charles. “Let’s go into Evesham and find a place for coffee and make notes on what we’ve got.”

They parked in Merstow Green and walked across the road to a tea-shop off the Market Square. “Look at this!” exclaimed Charles. “The last genuine old English tea-shop in captivity.” It was low-beamed, quiet and dark. A waitress with a gentle Scottish accent took their order.

“Now,” said Charles, taking out a small notebook and a pen, “let’s see what we’ve got in the way of suspects. Begin at the beginning, Aggie. Anything you can think of.”

Agatha rested her chin on her hands. “Let me see, what made me suspect him of being a blackmailer in the first place? Ah, I know. I told you. I heard some woman threatening to kill him when I was in the loo at the hairdresser’s. John said it was a couple in the shop next door who were always quarrelling. But although I could hear her voice, I couldn’t distinguish the voice of the man. He kept his low. It could’ve been John.”

“Right.” He made a note. “We’ll check out that shop afterwards. Next.”

“Wait a bit. He told me he had been married once. That’s a thought. I wonder if he had any children and who inherits.”

“We’ll try to find out.

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