Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell

we’ve got this meeting on Saturday.’
    Charles looked at her curiously. ‘Don’t you want to find James?’
    ‘Of course I do.’ But Agatha did not want to think for a moment that he was in a monastery. ‘Maybe after the meeting,’ she said. ‘But don’t tell Bill about your idea. A bunch of British flat-feet descending on the south of France might alert him.’
    ‘They’d just send the French police to check the place out.’
    ‘Leave it for the moment, Charles. I’ll think about it after Saturday.’
    Charles went home for a couple of nights, leaving Agatha alone with her thoughts. She made notes about everyone they had interviewed, and found she could not build up a clear picture of the murderer. She found she was pinning her hopes on Saturday’s meeting too much and tried to depress them. What if the end result was pages and pages of things like, ‘Didn’t see anything. Watched telly. Went to bed.’ And always at the back of her mind, Charles’s suggestion that James just might be at that monastery nagged at her relentlessly. James in a monastery would be as lost to her as if he were dead. On the other hand, were he there, he could surely tell them who had attacked him. She decided it was time to take her appearance in hand while she waited, and had her hair cut and styled at the hairdresser’s and had a facial at the beautician’s and a leg wax. Then she took a trip into Oxford and bought some new clothes. It was a sunny day and shopping was enjoyable.
    She found herself wishing the case were solved. She was beginning to think that a life without James might be quite pleasant. She could begin to feel good about herself, be her own woman again.
    By the time Charles arrived early on Saturday morning, Agatha was beginning to feel she had enjoyed a short holiday.
    As she walked to the village hall with Charles, she noticed a crowd of people streaming in the same direction. ‘There’s going to be masses of odd reports,’ warned Charles. ‘A lot of people might start imagining things. Or daft things like, “My mother’s picture fell off the wall, so I knew something bad had happened,” that kind of thing.’
    ‘Let’s hope there’s some nugget among the lot,’ said Agatha, ‘because if there isn’t, I can’t think where we would try next.’
    There was an air of excitement in the hall as Agatha and Charles mounted the stage. Agatha noticed the local press were there.
    She checked the microphone and then began to speak. ‘This unsolved murder is affecting the tranquillity of our village,’ she said. ‘Now, you will have found on each chair a sheet of paper. I want you all to think back to the night Melissa Sheppard was murdered and to the day James Lacey was attacked. I want you to write down anything out of the ordinary you might have seen. You may have not told the police because at the time it seemed silly or insignificant. I will now move to that table by the door. When you have finished, give me what you have written. Please, do try very hard. I find it strange that no one saw anything at all.’
    Agatha and Charles descended from the platform. ‘Did you supply them with pens?’ asked Charles. ‘Or time will be taken up as everyone tries to borrow a pen from everyone else.’
    ‘Rats! I forgot,’ said Agatha.
    ‘I’ll nip along to the village store and get some.’
    Charles was soon back with boxes of biros, which he began to pass around. Some people were writing busily, some were chewing the ends of their pens and staring at the ceiling, and some were casting covert glances at their neighbours’ papers, like children at an exam.
    At last, one by one, they began to leave, placing their papers in front of Agatha. With a sinking heart, she noticed most of the first ones had simply been scrawled with, ‘Didn’t see anything.’
    Agatha stood up and shouted to the remainder, ‘Even if you heard anything.’
    At last, after an hour, everyone had left. Agatha and Charles and Mrs Bloxby stacked away the chairs. ‘Better get this lot home,’ said Agatha, ‘and pray there’s something.’
    When they reached Agatha’s cottage, Charles said, ‘Let’s have a drink and something to eat. It’s going to be a long day.’
    Agatha made a fry-up of sausage, eggs, bacon and chips, Charles’s favourite food.
    ‘Now,’ she said impatiently, ‘let’s get to work.’
    They moved through to the sitting-room. Agatha divided the papers into two piles.
    They began to read.