As The Pig Turns

girl. There was something unstable about Simon.’
    ‘Then let’s hope anyway he doesn’t die a hero. Tell me the latest.’
    Agatha glanced at her watch. ‘I hope to visit Amy this evening. I’d better go. I want her to think I’m off to Florida and then I’ll go underground.’
    ‘She’ll see you around.’
    ‘I’ll disguise myself. But I must get a look at this husband of hers. What are we going to do about Toni?’
    ‘I’ll go right now and see her. I’ve got the evening off.’
    ‘Don’t tell her about Simon!’
    ‘No, I think that’s up to you.’
    Paul Finlay mounted the narrow stairs to Toni’s flat with a feeling of excitement. He felt the fact she had asked him for dinner and had said she had something important to tell him was propitious in the least. Toni was all he desired: young, pretty and surely malleable. A woman’s duty was to support her husband at all times and agree with him.
    He had never been in Toni’s flat before and expected dolls on the sofa and posters of pop groups on the walls. But although it was small, it was furnished in excellent taste. Bookshelves on one wall were full of paperbacks and hardbacks. Two framed prints decorated the opposite wall, a Paul Klee and a Cotswold landscape by an artist he did not recognize. A round table was set at the window.
    ‘Hello, Paul,’ said Toni nervously. ‘Want a drink before dinner?’
    ‘What have you got?’
    ‘Beer or wine.’
    ‘Wine will be fine. What’s that?’ He took the bottle from her. ‘My dear innocent – Blockley Merlot!’ Blockley was a village near Moreton-in-Marsh.
    ‘It’s a local company who imports it and bottles it. Have you been to the village store in Blockley? It’s fabulous, all the things they have there. Charles says this wine is very good.’
    ‘I’ll stick to beer,’ said Paul ungraciously.
    Toni shrugged. She opened a bottle of beer and poured him a glass. She was wearing cut-off jeans and a faded T-shirt.
    ‘I thought this was to be an occasion,’ said Paul, surveying her clothes.
    ‘Rather a sad one,’ said Toni. ‘Do sit down.’
    He sat down on a two-seater sofa and patted the space beside him, but Toni drew up a hard chair and sat opposite. Toni had been out on only two dates with him since the murder. On each occasion, he had lectured her on the dangers of her job when he was not pontificating about the importance of his own. Toni wondered what she had ever seen in him. Maybe a psychiatrist would say she had been looking for a substitute father.
    ‘It’s like this, Paul,’ she said. ‘I am devoted to my job and I haven’t got time to go out on dates.’
    His face became distorted with fury. ‘Are you dumping me?’
    ‘That’s a pretty harsh way of putting it,’ said Toni. ‘All I’m trying to say – well . . . it’s just that we’re not suited.’
    ‘Little girls like you need a good slap on the bottom.’ Before Toni quite realized what was happening, he had jerked her off her chair, over his knee, and had begun to spank her. She reached down between their bodies and grabbed his balls and squeezed as hard as she could. He screamed and threw her off and then rolled on to the floor.
    At that very opportune moment, the door opened and Bill Wong walked in.
    He helped Toni to her feet. ‘What happened? Did he assault you?’
    ‘He smacked my bottom because I said I didn’t want to see him any more.’
    Bill hauled the still-squirming Paul to his feet and clipped handcuffs on him. He read him his rights and charged him with assault.
    ‘ She attacked me !’ Paul howled.
    ‘Let’s just forget it,’ said Toni.
    Bill looked at her. ‘He’s done it before and he will do it again. His ex-wife divorced him because of physical and mental cruelty. He broke her ribs on one occasion and her jaw on another. You know the score, Toni.’
    ‘Okay,’ said Toni. ‘Just take him away.’
    ‘Are you going to be all right? Is there anyone you could phone?’
    ‘No, I’ll be all right now,’ said Toni.
    Agatha at that moment was telling Amy that she was going to Florida. ‘Isn’t your husband at home?’ she asked.
    ‘He should be here at any moment,’ said Amy nervously.
    ‘You seem on edge,’ said Agatha.
    ‘I keep wondering if whoever killed poor Gary might come after me.’
    ‘Only if they think you know something.’
    The doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be my Bunchie!’ cried Amy, leaping to her feet.
    ‘Doesn’t he have a key . . . ?’ began Agatha.