Agatha Raisin And The Wellspring Of Death Part 22

"If you're entertaining, I don't want to interrupt you."

"Just a drink," pleaded Agatha.

"Yes, how nice." Guy loomed up behind Agatha.

"How good to see you, Mr Freemont," said Mrs Bloxby. "I won't stay long. As I was saying to Agatha a moment ago on the phone, I thought she might like some of my special trifle."

Guy looked as relaxed now as he had been tense a moment before. "You take the trifle, Agatha, and I'll get Mrs Bloxby a drink." Mrs Bloxby handed over the bowl of trifle and then put her umbrella in the stand in the hall.

"Such a dreadful evening, Mr Freemont," she said. "Oh, this is comfortable. I always think a log fire is so pretty. Just a sherry, please."

Agatha came in and sat down. The fact that Guy was more than likely a cold-blooded killer had finally sunk in and she felt sick and frightened.

Mrs Bloxby looked brightly at Agatha and then at Guy. "Do you go to church, Mr Freemont?"

"What?"

"I asked, do you go to church?"

"Why?"

"Because I am the vicar's wife and I like to collect as many souls for the church as possible."

Mrs Bloxby knows, thought Agatha. Somehow she knows. It was totally out of character for the vicar's wife to ask anyone if they went to church.

Guy gave an awkward laugh. "Well, Christmas, Easter; I'm afraid I am a two-service-a-year Anglican."

"But are you never afraid for your immortal soul?"

"Never think about it."

"Oh, but you should. We will all be judged on Judgement Day."

"I don't want to offend you, Mrs Bloxby, but it's all a lot of tosh. When someone dies, they just die-finish, the end."

"That is where you are wrong."

"How do you know that? G.o.d tell you so?"

Mrs Bloxby took a sip of sherry and looked meditatively at the leaping flames. "No, but I have observed goodness in people as well as evil. There is a bit of the divine spirit in all of us. I have also observed an odd pattern of justice."

"Justice?" demanded Guy sharply and Agatha groaned inwardly.

"Oh, yes, I have seen evil people thinking they have got away with things, but they always suffer in the end."

"The fires of h.e.l.l?"

"Yes, and they suffer from them in their lifetime. I think whoever killed poor Mr Struthers and Robina Toynbee will eventually suffer dreadfully."

"Not if the police don't catch him, or her." Guy stood up. "Excuse me, I've left my cigarettes in my coat pocket."

"Have one of mine," said Agatha. "I didn't know you smoked."

"There's a lot about me you don't know."

He went out. Agatha looked at the vicar's wife with agonized eyes. She mouthed, "Don't go too far."

Guy came in and stood in the doorway. He had his coat on and a small serviceable revolver was pointed straight at them.

"Fun's over," he said coldly. "We're going for a ride. Into the car and one squeak and I'll shoot both of you."

"Why are you doing this?" demanded Agatha.

"Just shut up and get moving. Move!"

Outside, he snarled at Agatha. "You drive and the Holy Roller can sit beside you. One false move and I'll kill you both."

"Take the road through Ancombe," he ordered as Agatha drove off.

Agatha felt all hope die. The police would come into the village the other way and so miss them. The cold muzzle of the revolver was pressed against her neck.

Mrs Bloxby sat quietly beside her, hands clasped in prayer. What good will that do? Agatha wanted to scream at her.

"Down to Moreton and take the Fosse towards Stratford," ordered Guy.

Agatha obeyed. There was nothing else she could do. Jammed beside her on the seat was her handbag, which she had picked up through force of habit. Was there anything in it she could use as a weapon? Nail scissors? Forget it. There was a little can of spray lacquer. If only she could get that and spray it in his face. But how?

Start him talking, she thought. "So you killed them?" she said.

"Just drive and keep your mouth shut."

In books, thought Agatha wildly, the criminals always bragged about their crimes, allowing the hero to escape. The windscreen wipers moved rhythmically like metronomes.

They left Moreton-in-Marsh behind and out they went along the Fosse Way, the Roman road which, like all Roman roads, went straight up hills and down the other side. Roman armies had not gone in for easy detours.

"Right here!" barked Guy.

"This goes to Toddenham," said Agatha. "We could have gone round the back of Budgen's."

"Drive!"

Would Doris Simpson look after her cats? He surely meant to kill them.

"Stop!" he commanded.

Agatha stopped with a squeal of brakes. "You first," Guy said to Mrs Bloxby. "If you run for it, I'll kill her."

"Run for it," Agatha urged the vicar's wife. "He's going to kill both of us anyway."

But Mrs Bloxby got out and stood meekly beside the car.

"Into the field," said Guy.

Agatha found she was still clutching her handbag.

As she ducked under the fence, she released the flap and groped for that little can of lacquer.

"Now stand there, together." The rain had stopped and faint starlight shone on the black revolver in Guy's hand.

He levelled the pistol at them.

Mrs Bloxby left Agatha's side and walked forward and put a hand on his arm.

"This will not do," she said gently. "You cannot get away with this."

He jerked his arm away.

Agatha darted forward and sprayed lacquer in his face. He shouted, clutched at his eyes and dropped the revolver.

The vicar's wife grabbed the revolver and shouted, "Stand back, Agatha."

Guy looked at them blearily. "So go on and shoot." He advanced on Mrs Bloxby. "But you won't, will you, oh lady of G.o.d? You can't!"

His hand reached out.

Mrs Bloxby shot him full in the chest.

He stared at her in surprise and then down at the spreading stain on his white s.h.i.+rt. "I'll be d.a.m.ned," said Guy Freemont.

Mrs Bloxby sat down suddenly on the wet gra.s.s. "Probably," she said faintly and then buried her face in her hands.

Guy toppled forward on his face and lay still. The moon swam out from behind ragged black clouds. Far away the thunder grumbled.

Agatha walked on shaking legs and pulled Mrs Bloxby to her feet. "We need to get help and I'm not leaving you here."

"G.o.d forgive me," whispered Mrs Bloxby. "I've killed him."

"Maybe not," said Agatha. "But we're not waiting to see."

She helped the vicar's wife into the car. The keys were still in the ignition. Agatha found that her legs were trembling so much that she could barely press the accelerator.

But she managed to start the car and drive into Toddenham, stopping at the first house.

The householder who answered the door looked at the two women and then down at the gun which Mr Bloxby was still holding in her hands, screamed and slammed the door.

"Give me the gun." Agatha put it in her handbag.

They walked next door. A slim young man answered it and after listening to their pleas to use the phone, that they had to call the police, invited them in. Agatha called for the police and ambulance, breaking off to ask the young man his address.

"We'd best go back," said Agatha. "You wait here, Mrs Bloxby, and I'll stop them."

"No, I'll come with you. I killed him."

The young man who had given his name as Gabriel Law made a move to accompany them and then decided against it. If one of these women had killed someone, he felt it would be safer to stay behind.

Agatha drove the short distance to the field.

They both sat silently in the car.

"I had to do it," said Mrs Bloxby at last.

"Yes, you did, or we'd both be dead. How blind I've been! You know how I got on to him?"

"No."

"Bill Wong said there was a single white Persian cat hair in the turn-up of old Mr Struthers's trousers. But no One could find a trace of a white cat. That was, until just before he arrived at my house this evening. I had been over to see his secretary, Portia Salmond. She said she was having an affair with him. I noticed my blouse, the one I had been wearing when I went to see her-it had white cat hairs on it. Like a fool I first thought that Portia had been the murderer."

"You would have thought Portia would have got rid of the cat."

"But no one thought of her. And the police were asking around Ancombe for white cats but they didn't explain why or make the information public. But you knew it was him. Why?"

"The atmosphere of evil when I walked into your sitting-room was almost tangible. And you looked so white and frightened. I put your life at risk, Agatha. I was frightened, too, and that's how I let him know he was suspected. What a silly fool I was. Listen! Is that a police siren?"

Agatha rolled down the window. "Several," she said.

They both got out and stood in the road.

Bill Wong erupted out the first car, shouting, "Where is he?"

"That field, just there." Agatha pointed.

Bill and Detective Inspector Wilkes and several policemen went into the field. "Get the ambulance here," shouted Bill.

Police cars moved to one side to allow the ambulance through.

Agatha and Mrs Bloxby waited and waited. Finally a stretcher with Guy's body on it was gently lifted over the fence; He had an oxygen mask over his face and a drip in his arm.

"He's still alive," said Mrs Bloxby.

And she began to cry.

Ten.