The Witches' Tree by M. C. Beaton

Author:M. C. Beaton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

Chapter Eight

Agatha and James stared at each other. “Let’s think about this,” said James. “If the man is that mercenary, then surely he would be chasing someone like you and not Toni, although Toni is gorgeous enough to make any man behave stupidly.”

“Like you once did,” Agatha pointed out, remembering the time James had made a fool of himself over the girl.

James got to his feet. “And you are never, ever going to let me forget it!”

“Oh, sit down. I was merely retaliating. You pointed out that the only interest a man like Guy would have in me is my money.”

James stood on one foot, looking down his nose, thinking hard.

“You look like an infuriated stork,” said Agatha.

James sat down. “So where were we?” said Agatha. “If it’s Guy, he may not have known about the change in the will. Maybe he needs the money. Or maybe she told him and he killed her in a fury. Oh, dear.”

“Oh, dear, what?”

“Do you think that Molly and Rory are all they seem?”

“They surely haven’t been here that long. I mean for Guy to court Margaret enough to get her to change her will in the first place, he’d need to have been down here longer than them. Anyway, Patrick’s coming to join us. He was on a job in Moreton so he’ll be here soon.”

Agatha finished her coffee and looked at the plastic clock on the wall which told her it was eleven-thirty in the morning. That had always been the trouble with James, that puritanical streak. It had driven her in the past to say awful things to him. She gloomily ordered more coffee and flipped open her iPad. “Let’s see if Guy is here. Got him! He lives in Mircester. He’s an author! I wonder why Charles didn’t know that.”

“What’s he written?” asked James. “I’ve never heard of him.”

“That’s because he writes as Jane Wither. They look like bodice rippers. This Savage Knight and about twelve others. But they’re not in fashion, are they? Can’t remember any on the bestseller lists. Oh, here’s one and bless me I read it on holiday two years ago. It’s a three-part family saga called The Lancasters. They had piles of it at the airport. So why would he need money?”

“Because he’d been published before. If he had been a newcomer up for auction at the Frankfurt Book Fair, he’d probably have made a mint.”

“Maybe he got writer’s block. So he arrives in Sumpton Harcourt before his brother. Maybe went to a village fete. He meets Margaret and sees easy prey. Oh, dear, I do like Molly. I hope they’re not in on it.”

“Let’s just go and ask him how he knew Margaret and see his reaction,” said James. “Here’s Patrick. Let’s see what he has to say first. Drink, Patrick?”

“Thanks. I’ll have a half of Hook Norton.”

They waited impatiently until he had been served and taken a sip. He took out a fat notebook and thumbed the pages. “Let’s see. Miss Darby changed her will to favour Guy Harris just about a year ago.

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