Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist

badly. In the past I have always had light affairs, nothing very serious. I don’t know why it should have to be you. I like very gentle, feminine women. In fact, I feel at ease in the company of rather stupid women. You smoke, you swear, you are dreadfully blunt. If we were married, I think you would drive me mad, Agatha. You are right, I have always shied away from intimacy, not necessarily sex but discussions like this, talking about my feelings. I’ll try to watch my temper.’
    Agatha looked at him sadly. ‘I don’t think I can change, James. I don’t think I can turn myself into the type of woman you would like me to be. But I could give up smoking . . .’
    He reached forward and took her hand in a warm, firm clasp. ‘Let’s give it a little time. Friends?’
    ‘Friends,’ echoed Agatha, but feeling in a bewildered way that nothing had been resolved at all. ‘I’ll keep clear of Charles.’
    ‘I can’t under the circumstances dictate to you who you should see or not see. Now let’s discuss our suspects,’ he said cheerfully, looking, thought Agatha, for all the world like a schoolboy leaving the headmaster’s study once a dreaded lecture was over.
    ‘Everything points to Trevor,’ he said. ‘And Trevor is drinking like a fish. Sooner or later he is going to betray himself.’
    ‘I’m surprised the press haven’t been beating at our door after this last attack,’ said Agatha. ‘After Olivia’s famous press conference, they seem to have disappeared.’
    ‘Oh, I forgot to tell you. There’s been a dreadful murder over on the Greek side and some British soldiers have been accused. They’ve all gone over there. Our murder is old hat.’
    ‘Well, at least that should give us some peace. Where do we go from here? Back to the hotel this evening?’
    ‘I can’t. I’ve got an appointment in Nicosia this evening.’
    ‘I’ll come with you.’
    ‘No, Agatha, it’s got to do with my investigations into Mustafa, and I don’t want you involved. Don’t go to them on your own. Why not spend a quiet evening here and watch some television?’
    ‘Apart from the local news, there’s hardly anything in English.’
    ‘Sometimes the local station puts on a film in English.’
    ‘All right,’ said Agatha. ‘I haven’t really had a quiet evening since I’ve been here.’
    ‘I’ll go and get ready then,’ said James, and Agatha was left to her thoughts.
    When he had left, she took a cup of coffee out into the garden and watched the sun set until a nasty mosquito bite drove her indoors to look for ointment. Having applied it, she switched on the television and flicked through the channels. All Turkish. Arnold Schwarzenegger shouted in Turkish, Bugs Bunny shouted in Turkish, everyone shouted in Turkish. She switched it off.
    Suddenly the villa seemed very quiet and almost sinister. For once, the sea was calm and no children played in the road outside. She began to feel edgy and jumpy.
    And then the phone rang. She stared at it, startled, and then, with relief, decided it must be James.
    She picked up the receiver.
    ‘Hello, Aggie.’
    Charles.
    ‘What do you want?’ she demanded, feeling a lurch of disappointment. ‘And how did you get this number?’
    ‘Easy,’ he said cheerfully. ‘You left it with the manager of the hotel. Had dinner?’
    ‘Not yet. But I’m not going to pay for yours.’
    ‘Nasty. I was going to pay for yours.’
    ‘Charles, I’ve got into enough trouble over you. James found out I had slept with you.’
    ‘That wasn’t my fault. They’d found that out from the hotel servants and had tactfully kept that information from James until someone tried to smother you.’
    ‘How do you know James isn’t here?’
    ‘I was coming back into Kyrenia and he passed me like the clappers, heading off in the direction of Nicosia. Come on, Aggie. Come out to play. I’m bored.’
    Agatha hesitated, thinking of an evening on her own and jumping nervously at every single sound.
    ‘Oh, all right,’ she said ungraciously. ‘Where will I meet you?’
    ‘Here. The Dome.’
    Agatha sighed. ‘I should be investigating, but I don’t think I want to run into any of that lot this evening.’
    ‘What about that restaurant called the Grapevine?’
    ‘No, they might be there. All the British go there.’
    ‘What about the Saray Hotel in Nicosia?’
    ‘Well. . .’
    ‘Nicosia’s a big place. But if you think James will be there . . .’
    ‘No, come to think of it, if he