Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden by M. C. Beaton Read Free Book Online

Book: Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden by M. C. Beaton Read Free Book Online
Authors: M. C. Beaton
be charging you for your stay here.”
    “Thank you,” said Agatha. “I plan to make it as short as possible.”
    “Our offer does not cover drinks,” he said awkwardly.
    “I’ll remember that,” said Agatha drily. Then she remembered the bottle of love potion she had thrust down the cushions of the armchair in the lounge. She was all at once anxious to retrieve it. “Thank you.” She got to her feet and went out.
    The colonel was reading a newspaper in the lounge and sitting in the armchair on which Agatha had sat earlier. Daisy Jones was sitting opposite him, knitting.
    “What are you doing?” cried Daisy shrilly as Agatha plunged her hand down the side of the armchair on which the colonel was sitting.
    “I left my medicine,” said Agatha, retrieving the bottle, although she was tempted to shock Daisy by saying, “Just having a feel.”
    “These are distressing times,” said the colonel. “We are going to play Scrabble tonight as usual, all the same. Do join us.”
    “Thank you.”
    Why not, thought Agatha. Murder and mayhem may have arrived in Wyckhadden but the Scrabble game goes on.

∨ The Witch of Wyckhadden ∧
3
    A gatha rubbed some more lotion into her bald patches before winding a chiffon scarf around her head and then went downstairs for dinner. After calling out ‘Good evening’ to the others, she picked up a paperback and began to read to ward them off. She would see enough of them over the Scrabble game.
    The meal was roast pork, roast potatoes, apple sauce, and various vegetables. It had been preceded by Scotch broth and rolls and butter and was followed by meringues and ice cream. I shouldn’t even be eating half of this, thought Agatha, but what the hell, it’s been a bad time and I need some comfort.
    But the heavy meal had the effect of making her feel sleepy again. Only ambition to find out something about these other residents forced her into joining their Scrabble game.
    She refused the offer of a drink from the colonel. Mary Dulsey shook out the Scrabble tiles and old Harry put on a pair of gold-rimmed glasses and laid out pen and notebook to log the scores.
    “It’s nice the weather has cleared up,” said Daisy brightly. “Oh, thank you, Colonel,” to that gentleman, who had returned with a tray of drinks.
    “Aren’t we going to discuss the murder?” asked Agatha.
    “But it’s our Scrabble game,” said Jennifer.
    The others were carefully sorting their tiles in rows. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with this lot,” grumbled Mary.
    “They found out who vandalized my coat,” said Agatha.
    “We know,” said the colonel. “Mr Martin told us. Agatha, you have the highest tile. You start.”
    Agatha looked at her letters. She leaned over the board and put down HOG. “You have a T there and a U and another H,” reproved Daisy. “You could have put THOUGH.”
    “No helping,” barked the colonel, and Daisy blushed and whispered, “Sorry.”
    Agatha looked round the bent old heads in amazement. Why weren’t they talking about the murder? But they had all been interviewed that morning, had probably discussed it among themselves, and now all they wanted was their usual game of Scrabble. Perhaps the best thing would be to try to tackle them one by one on the following day.
    When the first game finished, she excused herself, saying she was tired, and went up to her room.
    Again she slept with the light on.
    ♦
    In the morning, she went down for breakfast and approached Daisy Jones. “Mind if I join you?”
    Daisy cast a longing look at the colonel but he was barricaded behind the Daily Telegraph . “Yes, do,” she said with obvious reluctance.
    “Do you know I was the one who found poor Francie Juddle?” started Agatha.
    “Yes, it was in the newspapers this morning.”
    “What did you go to her for?”
    Daisy looked uncomfortable. Then she said, “Francie gave seances. She said she could get me in touch with my dead husband.”
    “And did

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