Agatha Raisin and the Murderous Marriage

friends. He was always so kind and courteous. I’m sorry his wife had to find out in such a dreadful way. What’s all this about blackmail?’
    So they told her all about Jimmy Raisin and Mrs Gore-Appleton. ‘I remember them,’ said Helen. ‘No, they didn’t try to blackmail me. I’m the sort that would have gone straight to the police and they probably knew that. I didn’t like them one bit. How they found out my real identity I do not know.’
    ‘They probably looked in your handbag,’ said Agatha.
    ‘And saw the different name on my credit cards? I suppose so. Horrible people. In fact, now that I come to think of it, I can almost pinpoint the day they found out.’
    ‘Tell us about them,’ said Agatha eagerly. ‘Everyone else we’ve asked seems vague, even someone who slept with Jimmy.’
    ‘Let me see . . . would you both like coffee?’
    ‘No, thank you,’ said James, anxious to hear what she had to say and frightened that if she went into the kitchen, she might change her mind about talking to them.
    ‘Desmond and I joked about health farms at first. We weren’t really interested in our health. We thought it might be an amusing place to get together. His wife might have found a visit to a hotel suspicious but Desmond had told her he was worried about his blood pressure. Jimmy Raisin was a wreck. We arrived on the same day. He was still stinking of booze, but after only a couple of days, he looked like a changed man. He was always oiling around us, my-ladying me to death and claiming to know all sorts of celebrities. He was the sort of man who calls celebs by their first name. He kept talking about his good friend, Tony, who had won an Oscar, and it turned out to be Anthony Hopkins. I don’t suppose he even knew him. Mrs Gore-Appleton was not much better. She was – what is it the Americans say? – in my face. She had an abrasive manner overlaid with syrup. You know, she paid me effusive compliments while all the time her sharp eyes watched me to see if I was swallowing any of it. Desmond finally told them we wanted some time to ourselves. The day after that – that would be about five days after we arrived – they began to throw us very knowing looks and then pass our table and give contemptuous laughs. I thought it was because Desmond had snubbed them. But they must have found out I wasn’t Lady Derrington. What else can I tell you? I thought Jimmy Raisin was a wide boy, what they used to call a spiv. There was something seedy about him. I gathered from the newspapers that you had not seen him in a very long time, Mrs Raisin. The Gore-Appleton woman was blonde and muscular, tried to be very pukka, but there was something all wrong about her. I tell you what. Let me get us all some coffee and I’ll think some more.’
    Agatha and James waited until she returned with a tray. There was not only coffee but home-made toasted tea-cakes. ‘Did you really make these yourself?’ James took another appreciative bite. ‘These are excellent and the coffee is divine.’ He stretched out his long legs. ‘It’s very comfortable here.’
    Helen gave him a slow smile. ‘Come when you’re in town and have a free hour to spare.’
    Agatha stiffened. This wretched woman suddenly seemed like more competition than any blonde sylph. She was suddenly anxious to get James away.
    But Helen was talking again. ‘You say he slept with some woman?’ She laughed. ‘I love that euphemism, “slept with”. One does anything but.’ She gave a warm creamy laugh and Agatha’s bearlike eyes fastened on her with barely concealed hate.
    ‘That would be a Mrs Comfort, am I right?’
    ‘How did you know?’ said James.
    ‘Oh, he was making up to her and the Gore-Appleton woman was egging him on. I heard him say, “I’ll get her tonight,” and Mrs Gore-Appleton laughed and said, “Have fun,” and the next morning, well, body language and all that, you know what I mean, don’t you, James?’
    ‘Oh, absolutely.’
    I’ll kill this bitch, thought Agatha.
    ‘And that poor spinster lady, she was murdered,’ said Helen with an artistic shudder. ‘More coffee, James?’
    Her tailored silk blouse had a deep V and she leaned forward, deliberately, Agatha thought, to reach for the coffee pot at such an angle that James could see two excellent breasts encased in a frilly brassiere.
    James had another full cup of coffee and was helping himself to another tea-cake. Agatha groaned inwardly.
    Helen suddenly