As The Pig Turns

clue. Fiona Richards had been in the George when Staikov was there. Was there a connection?
    Phil had left a note saying he was watching the Richardses’ house but had taken pains to make sure he would not be recognized.
    If I could solve Beech’s murder, then everything else might fall into place, thought Agatha. It was a particularly vicious murder. Revenge? Hate? A warning? And how could he possibly have been any use to them apart from turning a blind eye to speeding and parking violations?
    Patrick went into a Richards Supermarket in Mircester and began to look around. It was an example of the sort of giant supermarket that was slowly killing off the small shops in Mircester, as it sold everything from food to pots and pans, clothes and takeaway meals. He remembered he needed a new shirt to wear to Simon’s wedding and headed for the clothes section.
    There was a placard in front of the section with the legend THE CHEAPEST YOU CAN BUY ! LOOK AT OUR LEATHER JACKETS !
    ‘I wonder,’ muttered Patrick. He lifted down one of the jackets and examined the label. It did not say ‘Country Fashions’. Instead it simply had a small label saying ‘Richards’. It was not good leather. The jackets were made of the type of leather that looked almost like plastic and was stiff and unyielding.
    Could there be a connection with Staikov’s firm?

Chapter Ten

    Only Charles, in full morning dress, seemed to have made an effort for the occasion of Simon’s wedding. Agatha had not found anything suitable to wear in Mircester and had not been allowed back into her cottage the evening before. In the morning she had rapidly scrambled into a pale blue trouser suit, realizing only when she got to the church how much she hated it. Although it was well designed, she felt pale blue was definitely not her colour.
    Roy, who had been invited, had sent his apologies, probably frightened he might be abducted again. Mrs Freedman was resplendent in black-and-red-patterned silk and with a large straw hat decorated with silk poppies. Patrick and Phil were in lounge suits. Toni looked subdued. She was wearing a dark grey silk dress, rather drab, as if she were wearing half-mourning, like an Edwardian lady. Mrs Bloxby was there with her husband, wearing the same outfit she had worn to many weddings: an unflattering brown chiffon dress and a large straw hat decorated with brown chiffon roses.
    As if by common consent, they all shuffled into pews at the very back of the church. Agatha, worried about Toni, hoped the service would not be too long. There was to be a reception afterwards at Simon’s parents’ home. They had all decided, for Toni’s sake, to forgo it.
    For her part, Toni really did not know what she felt.
    Many of Simon’s regimental friends were in the church, reminding guilty Agatha that it was surely her fault that he had gone to Afghanistan.
    The church was very warm. Agatha began to regret she had jeered so many times about global warming. The stained-glass windows of the abbey sent down harlequin shafts of light. The organ played softly.
    Charles whispered, ‘What’s happening? Simon isn’t here. The best man’s there, but no Simon.’ People began to twist their heads, looking anxiously towards the door.
    Agatha experienced a sudden feeling of dread. She whispered to Patrick, ‘What if he’s been kidnapped like Roy?’
    ‘Probably sleeping off the effects of some stag party,’ replied Patrick comfortably.
    Agatha craned her neck. She could see what must be Simon’s father talking urgently to some of Simon’s army colleagues. They left the abbey.
    A babble of conversation rose up to the hammer beams on the roof. One woman left the church for a few minutes and then came back and announced excitedly, ‘Poor Susan is in the wedding car, being driven around and around. Where is the wretched boy?’
    Agatha was just about to go outside and phone Bill when Simon’s army colleagues came back into the church and went straight up to his father. There was a frantic discussion, and then Simon’s father announced, ‘I am sorry. The wedding is off.’
    People rose from their pews and began to stream out through the great double doors of the abbey. But Agatha, followed by Charles, thrust her way through the departing guests and approached Simon’s father.
    ‘Has Simon been found?’ she gasped.
    ‘Yes, he has,’ he answered curtly. ‘He has been found at our home. I have much to do. Please excuse me.’
    Thank God