into it. Then I told him I was going to the police with the evidence.
‘He stormed out of the house, but when he came back, he said that he had fallen in love with Amy and would give me a divorce. I couldn’t believe my luck until he finally moved out. He comes back regularly to see the children. Oh, he’s all right with them. I bumped into Amy before she got her cosmetic alterations. She was very friendly, but she said an odd thing just as she was leaving. She said, “I miss Gary. Gary would have sorted him out.”’
‘So it looks as if she was off her new husband before she even went to the States,’ said Toni.
‘Now, how am I to get home? I’m over the limit.’
‘I’ll get you a cab,’ said Toni. ‘Is there anyone who can come and get your car?’
‘Yes, the nanny, Mrs Drufus.’ She leaned forward and looked earnestly at Toni. ‘Do you think Tom killed Gary?’
‘If it had just been a blow on the head, I could believe it,’ said Toni. ‘But to kill a man – he was evidently knifed to death – and then to cut off his head and try to get him roasted as a pig – no. It sounds to me like the work of several people.’
‘Would you keep in touch with me?’ asked Fiona plaintively. ‘You’re such a good listener. Now, if I had a daughter like you . . . Oh, well.’
She rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet. Toni found her a taxi and sent her on her way.
Agatha cursed under her breath. The girl’s report on Fiona Richards was so good. Toni, with her youth and air of innocence, could winkle stories out of people who would otherwise have clammed up when faced with Agatha herself.
After leaving a note on Toni’s desk thanking her for her work, along with Simon’s letter and wedding invitation, Agatha went out into the freezing cold. The time had come to ask Amy Richards why she had lied. Agatha realized she would need to tell the truth and confess she had never gone to Florida.
Amy answered the door. She wasn’t wearing her contact lenses, showing her eyes were brown. She looked as if she had been crying.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said bleakly.
Agatha shivered. ‘Let me in.’
She pushed past the slim figure of Amy and into the living room. Agatha removed her heavy coat and a shawl that made her feel she looked like Mother Machree, cursing all antifur activists under her breath. Mink were vermin. They should be clothing her back instead of marauding around the countryside, killing off the native species.
‘Amy, I haven’t been to Florida.’ Agatha sat down on a sofa, and Amy sat in an armchair facing her. Between them was a glass coffee table holding glossy magazines – OK!, Celebrity, Vogue and colour supplements from various Sunday papers.
‘Why?’ asked Amy in a croaky voice.
‘I’m sorry to say this, Amy, but I did not believe you. A police contact told me that you have confessed that you were lying, that you were never in Florida and it was Tom Richards who paid for you to go to LA for the transformation. I naturally began to wonder if you wanted me out of the way and why.’
‘I told the police the truth this time. I didn’t want them to think I was a gold digger. I mean, it takes an awful lot of money to look like this.’
Hadn’t Dolly Parton once said something like ‘It takes an awful lot of money to look this cheap,’ thought Agatha, for there was something rather tawdry about Amy that day. She was wearing high-heeled pink shoes, a tight pink sweater and pink pedal pushers.
‘So it was not your husband that suggested you have plastic surgery?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘But he suggested it to his previous wife. Is he a bully?’
‘Oh, no, my Bunchie’s the sweetest, dearest man.’
‘Okay. Let’s get back to Gary. You said he gave you a lot of money for the divorce. A cheque?’
‘No, it was cash.’
‘How much?’
‘I c-can’t remember.’
‘ Amy! ’
‘It was about ten thousand in an envelope. He said, “Take it and come with me to the
‘He stormed out of the house, but when he came back, he said that he had fallen in love with Amy and would give me a divorce. I couldn’t believe my luck until he finally moved out. He comes back regularly to see the children. Oh, he’s all right with them. I bumped into Amy before she got her cosmetic alterations. She was very friendly, but she said an odd thing just as she was leaving. She said, “I miss Gary. Gary would have sorted him out.”’
‘So it looks as if she was off her new husband before she even went to the States,’ said Toni.
‘Now, how am I to get home? I’m over the limit.’
‘I’ll get you a cab,’ said Toni. ‘Is there anyone who can come and get your car?’
‘Yes, the nanny, Mrs Drufus.’ She leaned forward and looked earnestly at Toni. ‘Do you think Tom killed Gary?’
‘If it had just been a blow on the head, I could believe it,’ said Toni. ‘But to kill a man – he was evidently knifed to death – and then to cut off his head and try to get him roasted as a pig – no. It sounds to me like the work of several people.’
‘Would you keep in touch with me?’ asked Fiona plaintively. ‘You’re such a good listener. Now, if I had a daughter like you . . . Oh, well.’
She rose somewhat unsteadily to her feet. Toni found her a taxi and sent her on her way.
Agatha cursed under her breath. The girl’s report on Fiona Richards was so good. Toni, with her youth and air of innocence, could winkle stories out of people who would otherwise have clammed up when faced with Agatha herself.
After leaving a note on Toni’s desk thanking her for her work, along with Simon’s letter and wedding invitation, Agatha went out into the freezing cold. The time had come to ask Amy Richards why she had lied. Agatha realized she would need to tell the truth and confess she had never gone to Florida.
Amy answered the door. She wasn’t wearing her contact lenses, showing her eyes were brown. She looked as if she had been crying.
‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said bleakly.
Agatha shivered. ‘Let me in.’
She pushed past the slim figure of Amy and into the living room. Agatha removed her heavy coat and a shawl that made her feel she looked like Mother Machree, cursing all antifur activists under her breath. Mink were vermin. They should be clothing her back instead of marauding around the countryside, killing off the native species.
‘Amy, I haven’t been to Florida.’ Agatha sat down on a sofa, and Amy sat in an armchair facing her. Between them was a glass coffee table holding glossy magazines – OK!, Celebrity, Vogue and colour supplements from various Sunday papers.
‘Why?’ asked Amy in a croaky voice.
‘I’m sorry to say this, Amy, but I did not believe you. A police contact told me that you have confessed that you were lying, that you were never in Florida and it was Tom Richards who paid for you to go to LA for the transformation. I naturally began to wonder if you wanted me out of the way and why.’
‘I told the police the truth this time. I didn’t want them to think I was a gold digger. I mean, it takes an awful lot of money to look like this.’
Hadn’t Dolly Parton once said something like ‘It takes an awful lot of money to look this cheap,’ thought Agatha, for there was something rather tawdry about Amy that day. She was wearing high-heeled pink shoes, a tight pink sweater and pink pedal pushers.
‘So it was not your husband that suggested you have plastic surgery?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘But he suggested it to his previous wife. Is he a bully?’
‘Oh, no, my Bunchie’s the sweetest, dearest man.’
‘Okay. Let’s get back to Gary. You said he gave you a lot of money for the divorce. A cheque?’
‘No, it was cash.’
‘How much?’
‘I c-can’t remember.’
‘ Amy! ’
‘It was about ten thousand in an envelope. He said, “Take it and come with me to the
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