Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell

way. She was a cluttery sort of person.’
    ‘Cluttery?’
    ‘You know, she always had some fad or other – dressmaking one day, flower-arranging the other, house full of bits and bobs. She was a bad cook.’
    ‘She must have changed since she left you,’ said Agatha. ‘Everyone in Carsely praised her cakes.’
    ‘Oh, that. She probably did what she did when she was married to me.’
    ‘Which was?’
    ‘She’d find a good bakery and buy cakes and then put homemade wrappings on them and say she had baked them herself. I mean, only rather sneaky and mean people would do a thing like that.’
    Charles glanced at Agatha’s face, for Agatha was notorious for trying to pass off shop goods as her own work.
    ‘Was she unfaithful to you?’
    ‘Stands to reason, she must have been. She married Sheppard right after the divorce. She would say she was going out to some flower-arranging class or cookery class or something. Come to think of it, she was one hell of a liar.’ He gave a nervous giggle and put one well-kept hand up to his mouth. ‘Pardon my French.’
    The wail of police sirens approaching sounded from outside the house.
    ‘Thank you,’ said Charles, getting to his feet. ‘Come along, Agatha.’
    ‘No, wait a bit, Charles. This is getting interesting. I mean –’
    She broke off, suddenly aware of the sirens, the screech of tyres. Then a stentorian voice called, ‘The house is surrounded. Come out with your hands above your head.’
    John Dewey threw them one terrified look, darted out of the living-room and locked the door behind him.
    Charles looked out of the window. ‘It’s the police, Aggie. That damn woman took you seriously when you said you were going to shoot Dewey.’
    ‘How can we get out?’ said Agatha, tugging at the door. ‘He’s locked us in.’
    ‘We’d better get out through the window,’ said Charles, ‘before they break down that door and start spraying us with CS gas.’
    He began to tug ineffectually at the window. ‘Would you believe it? They’re painted shut. He never opens them.’
    Agatha picked up a brass poker from beside the empty fireplace, where obviously no fire had ever been lit. She began smashing at the glass. ‘We’re coming out!’ yelled Charles, seeing a police marksman taking aim. ‘Don’t shoot!’
    When Agatha had smashed out all the glass, they climbed out into the glare of police lights and television lights. ‘Down on the ground,’ yelled a voice.
    ‘Do as they say, Aggie,’ said Charles wearily, ‘or we’ll never get out of here.’
    They were both handcuffed and led to the police cars. Agatha looked out of the window of the police car and saw the triumphant face of the Neighbourhood Watch woman. She was talking avidly to a television reporter.
    ‘What a mess!’ groaned Agatha when they finally emerged from Worcester police station several hours later. ‘I’ll pay half your lawyer’s fee, Charles, considering he represented me as well.’
    ‘You should pay the whole bill. Whatever possessed you to tell that woman we were going to shoot Mr Dewey?’
    ‘It was a joke!’
    ‘That backfired. I’ll drop you off home.’
    ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’
    ‘Not tomorrow. I’ve got things to do.’
    To her surprise, she slept deeply that night and ‘Oh.’ He’s sick of me, thought Agatha. Now I’m on my own. With a great effort she managed to stop herself from crying.
    woke, for the first time since James’s disappearance, feeling strong and well.
    She made herself a hearty breakfast, fed her cats and let them out into the garden and then wondered what to do with the rest of the day. She heard her doorbell ring. Charles, she thought with a feeling of gladness that he had not abandoned her.
    But it was Bill Wong who stood there when she opened the door.
    ‘Come in,’ said Agatha. ‘I suppose you’ve learned all that fuss about nothing last night in Worcester.’
    ‘It’s a good thing Charles dug up a hot-shot lawyer or you might both have been charged with wasting police time. That Neighbourhood Watch woman, Miss Harris, has, fortunately for you, a record of seeing villains behind every bush. You’re interfering again, Agatha. I warned you.’
    ‘Have coffee, sit down, and listen,’ said Agatha. ‘Despite the police interruption, I felt I was getting somewhere.’
    ‘Oh, yes? We’d already interviewed him.’
    ‘But what did you ask, eh? Usual police stuff, where were you on the night of and so on. What I’m