Read Online Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist by M. C. Beaton - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M. C. Beaton
Tags: Fiction, General, Mystery & Detective, Women Sleuths, Detective and Mystery Stories, British, Women Private Investigators, Women Detectives, Traditional British, Murder, Cotswold Hills (England), Travelers, Raisin, Agatha (Fictitious Character), Cyprus
Ads: Link
that they meet up at the Saray Hotel afterwards for lunch and compare notes.
Agatha had taken the precaution of bringing along a book to read. Trevor was the first to be called, then Olivia, and then Agatha heard her own name being shouted out.
Pamir was sitting behind a large desk. A large portrait of Ataturk in evening dress stared down from behind the desk.
A policeman drew out a chair for Agatha on the other side of the desk. She sat down, suddenly nervous.
Pamir folded those fat hairy hands of his on the desk in front of him. He was wearing a chocolate-brown double-breasted suit and a wide tie with orange-and-yellow stripes, A large yellow silk handkerchief flowered from his top pocket.
"Now, Mrs. Raisin," he said, "if I can just take you through the whole thing again. You arrived at the disco."
"James began to dance with Olivia," said Agatha, "and I danced with Angus, but he danced on my feet so I suggested we sit down."
"And Rose Wilcox?"
"She was dancing with George, Mr. Debenham."
"How were they dancing. Close?"
Agatha frowned in concentration. Her eyes had been mostly on James. "They weren't dancing close," she said. "Disco dancing. Rose was shaking it all about and George was doing that sort of high-stepping jerky dance that middle-aged gentlemen do when they think they're being swingers. The music was very loud and the floor was crowded."
"Was Mrs. Wilcox making a play for anyone in particular? You have told me about Mr. Debenham. What about Mr. Lacey?"
"What about Mr. Lacey?" demanded Agatha, her eyes narrowing.
"Did Mrs. Wilcox, Rose, seem attracted by Mr. Lacey?"
"Not that I noticed," said Agatha huffily.
"Now we go to last night. You had dinner at The Dome, but not with Mr. Lacey or any of the others but with a visiting Israeli businessman, a Mr. Mort."
"What's that got to do with the murder?"
"I must examine all the relationships and you have a very peculiar relationship with Mr. Lacey. You were engaged to be married, nearly got married, had not your husband appeared on the scene. You follow him here, you both share the same villa, and yet you accept an invitation to dinner from Mr. Mort."
"It was just a friendly chat," said Agatha hotly. "He was waiting for his wife."
"A wife you did not know existed until she arrived."
"That's not true! Have you been watching me?"
"Mrs. Raisin, one of my colleagues happened to be in that restaurant last night. I had a little man-of-the-world chat with Mr. Mort this morning. He found you attractive and asked you for dinner under the impression, to quote him, that he was 'on to a good thing'. So you agreed to join him for dinner, for a date, although you are with Mr. Lacey."
"Anything that was between me and Mr. Lacey is dead," said Agatha furiously. "We are friends and neighbours, that's all."
He bent his head and made some notes. Then he raised his eyes and looked at her thoughtfully. "As I said, I must examine all the tensions in your relationships, you and the rest. And here we have two threesomes, two devoted husbands and two devoted friends. Jealousy could have been a motive."
"You'll need to ask them."
"Oh, I shall. Now either someone had enough medical experience to know where to stick that thin blade which killed Mrs. Wilcox, or it was a lucky blow. Do you have any medical training, Mrs. Raisin?"
"None."
"And Mr. Lacey?"
"None either."
"It looks like a premeditated crime." He leaned forward. "Someone was prepared. Perhaps someone knew of the lighting in that disco--that at moments when the ball overhead swung round it was quite black. Had any of the others been there before?"
"I just don't know," said Agatha wearily. "I barely knew them. But perhaps I could be of help to you. I have helped the police before. The clue to the murder must he in their backgrounds, that is, if one of them did it. If I could just study--"
"No," said Pamir firmly. "No amateurs. I suggest you manage to have something of a holiday and put this behind
Agatha had taken the precaution of bringing along a book to read. Trevor was the first to be called, then Olivia, and then Agatha heard her own name being shouted out.
Pamir was sitting behind a large desk. A large portrait of Ataturk in evening dress stared down from behind the desk.
A policeman drew out a chair for Agatha on the other side of the desk. She sat down, suddenly nervous.
Pamir folded those fat hairy hands of his on the desk in front of him. He was wearing a chocolate-brown double-breasted suit and a wide tie with orange-and-yellow stripes, A large yellow silk handkerchief flowered from his top pocket.
"Now, Mrs. Raisin," he said, "if I can just take you through the whole thing again. You arrived at the disco."
"James began to dance with Olivia," said Agatha, "and I danced with Angus, but he danced on my feet so I suggested we sit down."
"And Rose Wilcox?"
"She was dancing with George, Mr. Debenham."
"How were they dancing. Close?"
Agatha frowned in concentration. Her eyes had been mostly on James. "They weren't dancing close," she said. "Disco dancing. Rose was shaking it all about and George was doing that sort of high-stepping jerky dance that middle-aged gentlemen do when they think they're being swingers. The music was very loud and the floor was crowded."
"Was Mrs. Wilcox making a play for anyone in particular? You have told me about Mr. Debenham. What about Mr. Lacey?"
"What about Mr. Lacey?" demanded Agatha, her eyes narrowing.
"Did Mrs. Wilcox, Rose, seem attracted by Mr. Lacey?"
"Not that I noticed," said Agatha huffily.
"Now we go to last night. You had dinner at The Dome, but not with Mr. Lacey or any of the others but with a visiting Israeli businessman, a Mr. Mort."
"What's that got to do with the murder?"
"I must examine all the relationships and you have a very peculiar relationship with Mr. Lacey. You were engaged to be married, nearly got married, had not your husband appeared on the scene. You follow him here, you both share the same villa, and yet you accept an invitation to dinner from Mr. Mort."
"It was just a friendly chat," said Agatha hotly. "He was waiting for his wife."
"A wife you did not know existed until she arrived."
"That's not true! Have you been watching me?"
"Mrs. Raisin, one of my colleagues happened to be in that restaurant last night. I had a little man-of-the-world chat with Mr. Mort this morning. He found you attractive and asked you for dinner under the impression, to quote him, that he was 'on to a good thing'. So you agreed to join him for dinner, for a date, although you are with Mr. Lacey."
"Anything that was between me and Mr. Lacey is dead," said Agatha furiously. "We are friends and neighbours, that's all."
He bent his head and made some notes. Then he raised his eyes and looked at her thoughtfully. "As I said, I must examine all the tensions in your relationships, you and the rest. And here we have two threesomes, two devoted husbands and two devoted friends. Jealousy could have been a motive."
"You'll need to ask them."
"Oh, I shall. Now either someone had enough medical experience to know where to stick that thin blade which killed Mrs. Wilcox, or it was a lucky blow. Do you have any medical training, Mrs. Raisin?"
"None."
"And Mr. Lacey?"
"None either."
"It looks like a premeditated crime." He leaned forward. "Someone was prepared. Perhaps someone knew of the lighting in that disco--that at moments when the ball overhead swung round it was quite black. Had any of the others been there before?"
"I just don't know," said Agatha wearily. "I barely knew them. But perhaps I could be of help to you. I have helped the police before. The clue to the murder must he in their backgrounds, that is, if one of them did it. If I could just study--"
"No," said Pamir firmly. "No amateurs. I suggest you manage to have something of a holiday and put this behind
Similar Books
