The Deadly Dance by Beaton M. C

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

EIGHT

AGATHA and Charles were taken straight to Mircester Police Headquarters and put in an interviewing room.

Then Detective Inspector Wilkes appeared with another man whom he introduced as Detective Inspector William Fother of the Special Branch. Another man followed them into the room and leaned against a wall, his arms folded.

“What have the Special Branch got to do with this?” asked Agatha.

“We’ll ask the questions,” said Fother.

He was a dark-skinned man with thinning brown hair and large ugly hands which he folded on the table in front of him. His first question surprised Agatha.

“Mrs. Raisin, when did you last visit the Republic of Ireland?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?”

“Please just answer the question,” he rapped out.

Despite his unremarkable appearance, there was something menacing about Fother.

“I haven’t,” said Agatha. “I mean, I never got around to going there. On holidays, you know, I think of sun.”

“And Northern Ireland?”

“Never been there either.”

“We can check.”

“Oh, please do,” said Agatha, her temper beginning to rise. “Have you heard of a man called Johnny Mulligan?” “No. Who is he?”

“He is the dead gentleman on your kitchen floor. He was a foot soldier with the Provisional IRA. He was in the Maze Prison for murder but released under Tony Blair’s famous amnesty.”

“Could he have got the wrong house?” asked Charles. “I mean, Agatha’s got nothing to do with anywhere in Ireland or politics.”

“We’ll get to you later, Sir Charles. In the meantime, it would be helpful if you would remain silent.”

Fother fastened his gaze on Agatha again. “Mulligan was killed by some sort of poison. There was an empty coffee-cup on the table. The contents are being analysed, as is the jar of coffee. So far, we know the jar of coffee did not have any prints on it, which looks as if someone doctored it with poison. Perhaps someone who expected a visit from him?”

“I used the coffee I left in the kitchen before I left for Paris. I had a cup of it. Are you feeling well, Charles? You’ve gone rather white.”

“What if,” said Charles, “someone not connected at all decided to try to poison Agatha and whoever this Mulligan was drank it instead?”

“Who, for instance?”

Should I tell them about Emma? wondered Charles desperately. It would be awful if she turned out to be completely innocent. He rallied, “Maybe someone from one of Agatha’s cases.”

“Police are going through her files at the moment. You look upset. Are you sure you have no idea who put the poison there?”

“No idea,” said Charles.

Fother turned back to Agatha. “Why did you go to Paris?”

“I felt like a break,” said Agatha, “and Charles wanted to look up a friend’s daughter who works at the couture house Thierry Duval. Her name is Felicity Felliet. We were told she was on holiday but due back the next day.”

“And you decided to sacrifice the price of two plane tickets just to wait and see this girl?”

“Not really. As we were in Paris, we thought it might be a good idea to double-check Mr.

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