see.’ James sipped moodily at his decaffeinated coffee. ‘And then, after we’ve located the office, we should drive to the nearest pub and get something
to eat.’
Agatha wanted to protest. She felt slimmer already. But she knew it would irritate James if she insisted on dieting when she ought to be investigating.
After dinner, they walked around and found the office off the hall. It had a glass window which overlooked the hall, so they could clearly see filing cabinets and two computers. Not only was the
office locked but so were the other rooms adjoining – sauna, massage room, treatment room, doctor’s room, and director’s room.
‘How are you going to open the door?’ asked Agatha.
‘I brought some lock-picks with me.’ James had used a set of lock-picks before, never volunteering to explain why or how he had first got them.
They then drove down to a nearby village, where James ate a large helping of steak and kidney pie while Agatha contented herself with a ham sandwich and a glass of mineral water.
And then back to their room. James suggested they change into dark clothes, lie on top of their beds, and he would set the alarm for two in the morning.
Once in his bed, he fell asleep immediately while Agatha lay awake and listened to the gentle rumbling of her stomach. Just when she thought she would never fall asleep at all, she did, and then
awoke with a start as the alarm sounded shrilly.
‘Time to go,’ said James. ‘Let’s hope they don’t have some security guard patrolling the place to make sure the guests don’t raid the kitchens.’
He opened the bedroom door. The corridor outside was brightly lit. He retreated back into the room. Agatha was wearing a navy sweater and black trousers and he was in a black sweater and black
trousers. ‘It’s very bright out there,’ he said, ‘and we look like a couple of burglars. Do you think we should put on our dressing-gowns and then we can claim we were
searching for food? They must be used to that.’
‘They will wonder what we are doing searching for food in their files. Perhaps if we put something ordinary on. We both have jogging suits. We can say we were out for a run. We can say, if
we’re caught, that we are paranoiac about our private lives and wanted to see what was on file, something like that.’
‘All right,’ said James, starting to take off his trousers. Agatha felt obscurely miffed that he should undress so unselfconsciously in front of her.
She herself changed into a scarlet jogging jacket and trousers in the bathroom. She did not want James to see any of the middle-aged body he had rejected.
Her face looked wan in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Perhaps just a little foundation cream and a bit of powder. Maybe a bit of blusher. That new shade of red lipstick would go nicely
with her jogging suit. She was just reaching for the mascara when James’s impatient voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door. ‘What are you doing, Agatha? Are you
going to be in there all night?’
‘Coming.’ Agatha regretfully abandoned the mascara and went out to join him. As she followed him out into the corridor, she realized again that the metabolism of Agatha Raisin did
not thrive on health food. She was sure she had bad breath and her stomach was full of gas. She fell back behind James, cupped her hands and breathed into them, but James looked over his shoulder
and demanded, ‘What are you doing now?’ and Agatha mumbled, ‘Nothing,’ fell into step beside him and prayed to all the gods who look after middle-aged ladies that she would
not fart. The silence in the building was absolute.
They reached the hall without having met anyone or heard anyone.
When they reached the office, James murmured, ‘It’s a simple Yale lock. A plastic credit card might do it.’ He took one out of his pocket and fiddled away while Agatha stood
behind him, hearing the vague rumbles in her own stomach. Lights were
to eat.’
Agatha wanted to protest. She felt slimmer already. But she knew it would irritate James if she insisted on dieting when she ought to be investigating.
After dinner, they walked around and found the office off the hall. It had a glass window which overlooked the hall, so they could clearly see filing cabinets and two computers. Not only was the
office locked but so were the other rooms adjoining – sauna, massage room, treatment room, doctor’s room, and director’s room.
‘How are you going to open the door?’ asked Agatha.
‘I brought some lock-picks with me.’ James had used a set of lock-picks before, never volunteering to explain why or how he had first got them.
They then drove down to a nearby village, where James ate a large helping of steak and kidney pie while Agatha contented herself with a ham sandwich and a glass of mineral water.
And then back to their room. James suggested they change into dark clothes, lie on top of their beds, and he would set the alarm for two in the morning.
Once in his bed, he fell asleep immediately while Agatha lay awake and listened to the gentle rumbling of her stomach. Just when she thought she would never fall asleep at all, she did, and then
awoke with a start as the alarm sounded shrilly.
‘Time to go,’ said James. ‘Let’s hope they don’t have some security guard patrolling the place to make sure the guests don’t raid the kitchens.’
He opened the bedroom door. The corridor outside was brightly lit. He retreated back into the room. Agatha was wearing a navy sweater and black trousers and he was in a black sweater and black
trousers. ‘It’s very bright out there,’ he said, ‘and we look like a couple of burglars. Do you think we should put on our dressing-gowns and then we can claim we were
searching for food? They must be used to that.’
‘They will wonder what we are doing searching for food in their files. Perhaps if we put something ordinary on. We both have jogging suits. We can say we were out for a run. We can say, if
we’re caught, that we are paranoiac about our private lives and wanted to see what was on file, something like that.’
‘All right,’ said James, starting to take off his trousers. Agatha felt obscurely miffed that he should undress so unselfconsciously in front of her.
She herself changed into a scarlet jogging jacket and trousers in the bathroom. She did not want James to see any of the middle-aged body he had rejected.
Her face looked wan in the fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Perhaps just a little foundation cream and a bit of powder. Maybe a bit of blusher. That new shade of red lipstick would go nicely
with her jogging suit. She was just reaching for the mascara when James’s impatient voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door. ‘What are you doing, Agatha? Are you
going to be in there all night?’
‘Coming.’ Agatha regretfully abandoned the mascara and went out to join him. As she followed him out into the corridor, she realized again that the metabolism of Agatha Raisin did
not thrive on health food. She was sure she had bad breath and her stomach was full of gas. She fell back behind James, cupped her hands and breathed into them, but James looked over his shoulder
and demanded, ‘What are you doing now?’ and Agatha mumbled, ‘Nothing,’ fell into step beside him and prayed to all the gods who look after middle-aged ladies that she would
not fart. The silence in the building was absolute.
They reached the hall without having met anyone or heard anyone.
When they reached the office, James murmured, ‘It’s a simple Yale lock. A plastic credit card might do it.’ He took one out of his pocket and fiddled away while Agatha stood
behind him, hearing the vague rumbles in her own stomach. Lights were
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