Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist

friends.’
    ‘I may have seen them,’ said Ali. ‘What do they look like?’
    ‘One woman, middle-aged, scrawny, arrogant, high commanding voice, with four men. One her husband, thin and sallow, quiet; friend Harry, farmer, elderly, thinning white hair; Angus, Scottish and proud of it, looks a bit like Harry; Trevor, fair hair, thick lips, beer belly, ghastly pink from the sun, truculent.’
    Ali’s eyes twinkled with amusement. ‘You did say they were friends of yours? I did see some people like that about an hour ago, but I haven’t seen them since.’
    ‘Okay, thanks anyway. We’ll look for them.’ Charles took Agatha’s arm and led her into the ruins of Salamis.
    They ploughed their way through the ruins. Charles was particularly impressed by an open-plan latrine with seating for forty-four people. The ruins were bright with tourists in multi-coloured holiday clothes. The sun was dazzling. Agatha would just think she had seen her quarry, and then the group would turn out to be totally different people.
    The tall columns of the gymnasium stood proudly up against the blue sky. Charles appeared to have forgotten why they were at Salamis and enthusiastically took control of Agatha’s guidebook, wandering here and there, admiring everything.
    There are a great many ruins at Salamis and they cover a wide area. Agatha began to become weary and would have liked to sit down somewhere in the shade and wait for Charles, but she did not want to be alone, not with Olivia and the others possibly somewhere around.
    They trudged ever onwards until Charles consulted the guidebook and said he would like to see the tombs of the kings. A map showed them to be situated on the other side of the main Famagusta road. ‘Better walk back and take the car,’ said Charles.
    They walked back to the car park and then drove out to the road and so to the tombs. They bought tickets at a museum which was more of a dusty hut with replicas of a chariot and a hearse. They left the museum and walked towards the tombs.
    The nearest tomb had a broad shallow ramp leading to the burial chamber with the skeletons of two horses at the entrance, where the animals were cremated after pulling the king to the burial chamber. The tombs where kings and nobles were buried dated from the seventh and eighth centuries BC. They were buried along with their horses and chariots, favourite slaves, food, wine and other necessities for the afterlife.
    It was when they had got to the fiftieth of the hundred and fifty tombs and Agatha thought she could not walk a step farther that Ali Ozel appeared with his tourists.
    ‘I saw your friends,’ he said.
    ‘Where?’ demanded Agatha.
    ‘Back towards the gymnasium. You said five of them, but there were only four, looking for a fifth, who had disappeared.’
    ‘We’d better go,’ said Agatha to Charles, all her energy renewed.
    They walked back to the car park and drove to the gymnasium. There were only a few tourists, but no Olivia, husband or friends. The pillars were beginning to cast long black shadows across the gymnasium.
    ‘Back out to the car park,’ said Charles. ‘We might just catch them.’
    But at the entrance, before they reached the car park, they could hear Olivia’s voice questioning another guide. ‘Haven’t you see him?’
    Agatha and Charles went up to her. Her husband George, Trevor and Angus stood a little way away.
    ‘What’s up?’ asked Agatha.
    Olivia swung round. ‘We lost Harry.’
    ‘Wasn’t he with you?’
    ‘Of course he was. But he wandered off towards the beach. You know, there’s a Roman villa and then a crossroads with a track leading down to the sea. He said he wanted to see what kind of beach it was. We all agreed to go different ways to look at different things and then meet up in the gymnasium. When he didn’t come back, we went down to the beach but there was no sign of him. We all spread out and began to search and agreed to meet up in the gymnasium again, which we did, but none of us has been able to find Harry, and I’m tired and don’t want to be stuck here all day.’
    ‘You are the murder people,’ said the guide suddenly. ‘I see you on television.’
    Olivia ignored him, but Agatha saw the guide go into his little office and pick up the phone.
    ‘We’ll try the beach again for you,’ said Charles. ‘Maybe you missed him.’
    ‘But that’s miles,’ groaned Agatha.
    ‘Then you wait here,’ said Charles. ‘I’ll go alone.’
    ‘No,