Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage

‘It’s dangerous to interfere with police work.’
    James glanced sideways at Agatha’s stricken face. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘we were about to give you all this information anyway. So what would happen? You would start with the health farm and then you would call on Sir Desmond. Would you think of asking them to describe the woman who said she was Lady Derrington? No, you would not. So you would have approached him and he would know his wife was going to find out all about it and the result would have been the same.’
    ‘We thought of that. But Maddie pointed out that a visit from the police might not have tipped the balance of his mind the way the appearance on the scene of what appeared to be a couple of blackmailers has done.’
    ‘Maddie says, Maddie says,’ jeered Agatha tearfully. ‘You think the sun shines out of her arse!’
    There was a shocked silence. Agatha turned red.
    ‘Go upstairs and put some make-up on or something,’ said James quietly. When Agatha had left the room, he said to Bill, ‘Agatha heard an unfortunate conversation between you and Maddie in the pub in Mircester. The toilets are behind where you were both talking. Maddie was manipulating you into calling on us to find out if we knew anything. I gather her remarks about Agatha were pretty insulting. Had Agatha not been so badly hurt and had I not sympathized with her, we might have told you all this earlier. Friendship,’ said James sententiously, ‘is a valuable thing. All you had to say to Maddie was that you would be calling on us anyway as part of your investigations. Do you not feel she is using you to find out extra facts which might help her to solve the case?’
    ‘No,’ said Bill hotly. ‘Not a bit of it. She is a hard-working and conscientious detective.’
    ‘Oh, really? Well, let’s return to the question of Sir Desmond’s death. His wife held the purse-strings. So how did he manage to pay out this five hundred a month, if that was blackmail money and not some money to a young mistress, without his wife finding out?’
    ‘He had a monthly income from Lady Derrington’s family trust. It was generous, but Sir Desmond had quite an extravagant life-style in a quiet way. Hunting, for example, takes a bit of money, not to mention the shirts from Jermyn Street and the suits from Savile Row. Lady Derrington never checked his bank account. It was overdrawn each month. That came as a surprise to her.’
    ‘So I gather you insensitive cops put her wise to the mistress. How did Lady Derrington take it?’
    ‘Coldly. She said, “Silly old goat.”’
    ‘And who was this charmer who seduced Sir Desmond?’
    ‘A secretary from the House of Commons, secretary to an MP friend of Sir Desmond’s. We’re trying to get her. She’s on holiday in Barbados at the moment. Called Helen Warwick. Not young. Blonde, yes, but in her forties.’
    ‘Married?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘So no blackmail there?’
    ‘We’ll need to wait and see. She is a respectable lady and might not want to feature in a divorce case. Look, I’d better talk to Agatha. Things overheard are always worse than things said direct.’
    ‘Leave it for the moment,’ said James curtly. ‘I’ll speak to her.’
    ‘Well, don’t do any more detecting without telling me. In fact, don’t do any detecting at all.’
    Bill left and climbed into the car beside Maddie. ‘Well, did you tell that interfering pair what you thought of them?’ she asked.
    ‘I was the one that was made to feel guilty. Agatha overheard a conversation between us in the pub where you were urging me to sound them out to see what they knew and she also heard some of your unflattering remarks.’
    ‘Serves her right.’ Maddie shrugged.
    For the first time, Bill’s mind made a separation between lust and love. For a brief moment, he wondered if he even liked Maddie, but when she crossed her legs in their sheer black stockings, lust took over and rationalized all his feelings back into romance.
    Agatha came back into the living-room and said in a weary voice, ‘Has he gone?’
    ‘Yes, and very guilty about having hurt you, too.’ James surveyed Agatha. Her face was scrubbed free of make-up and she was wearing an old sweater and a rather baggy skirt and flat heels. He had always considered privately that women did not need to plaster their faces with make-up, but he found himself missing the Agatha of the high heels, make-up, French perfume and ten-denier stockings. He had not forgiven