Agatha Raisin and the Curious Curate Read Online Free Page B

say, tomorrow morning, and to hold yourself in readiness for further questioning.’
    As they rose to leave, Agatha’s friend, Detective Sergeant Bill Wong, gave her the ghost of a wink.
    ‘Call me later,’ mouthed Agatha silently.
    As Wilkes was leaving, Agatha called, ‘When was Mr Delon killed?’
    He turned. ‘We don’t know. Mrs Bloxby rose at six-thirty this morning. She went out into the garden and noticed the French windows to the study were wide open. She could see papers were blowing about. She went in to close the window and found the curate dead.’
    Agatha felt a great wave of relief. She realized she had been afraid the vicar might have lost his temper and struck out at Tristan.
    ‘So someone came in from outside?’
    ‘Or someone made it look that way.’
    Agatha sat down shakily when they had left. Then she rose and phoned the vicarage. A policeman answered and said curtly that neither the vicar nor his wife were free to come to the phone.
    The doorbell rang and she rushed to answer it. For once John Armitage got a warm welcome. ‘Oh, John,’ cried Agatha, grabbing his arm and dragging him indoors. ‘Isn’t this too awful? Do you think Alf did it and made it look like a burglary?’
    ‘I cannot believe our vicar would harm a fly,’ said John, shutting the door behind them. ‘Let’s sit down calmly and think about it. Why did the police want to see you?’
    ‘As far as they know, I was the last one to see Tristan alive. I went to his place for dinner and left around midnight.’
    ‘Oho. He’s a fast worker. How did that come about?’
    ‘He just turned up on the doorstep and asked me, just like that.’
    ‘Tell me about it.’
    ‘I’ve already gone over and over it with the police.’ She started to describe her evening again.
    ‘Wait a minute,’ he interrupted. ‘Mrs Feathers supplied a dinner of pâté de foie gras, tournedos Rossini, and baked Alaska. She can’t be rich and she’s a widow. Didn’t you think it was a bit much of him?’
    ‘I did rather,’ said Agatha ruefully.
    ‘Sounds a bit of a taker to me. Did he try to get money out of you?’
    ‘You do underrate my charms, don’t you? Oh, Lord. I’ve just remembered something. He said something about being a whiz at playing the stock exchange and that he could invest money for me. I said I’d a very good stockbroker but that I’d let him know.’
    ‘So that was why he asked you for dinner.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Agatha huffily.
    ‘Look at it this way. He’d conned old Mrs Feathers into supplying an expensive meal. Who knows? He may have got his hands on her savings. You know what the gossip in this village is like. He’d have heard you’re rich. You’ve got a bit of a reputation when it comes to men.’
    ‘Undeserved,’ snapped Agatha.
    ‘And you’re a divorcée. You should tell the police.’
    ‘Must I?’ asked Agatha bleakly.
    ‘Yes, of course. And just think. They’re probably still up at the vicarage and it’ll be an excuse for us to get in there.’
    The policeman on guard at the door of the vicarage listened to Agatha’s request to see Wilkes because she had something to tell him relevant to the murder. He disappeared indoors and reappeared a few minutes later. ‘Follow me,’ he said. ‘They’re in the garden.’ The vicar’s study door was standing open. Men in white overalls were swarming all over the place.
    They followed the policeman out through the French windows and into the garden where Wilkes, a policewoman, the vicar and Mrs Bloxby sat round a garden table. There was no sign of Bill Wong.
    Mrs Bloxby was holding her husband’s hand. Both looked strained.
    ‘What is it?’ asked Wilkes.
    Agatha drew up a chair and sat down. She told him about the expensive dinner and about the offer to invest money for her.
    ‘This might give us an angle,’ said Wilkes slowly. ‘He may have been successful with some of the other women. We’ll be checking his bank account. Now Mrs