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

she?”
    “Yes. I mean it was scary to hear Hugh’s voice.”
    “No trickery?”
    “I suppose there must have been. I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “But – ”
    “No, I really don’t want to talk about it. There are things one shouldn’t dabble in.”
    “I just wonder,” said Agatha slowly, “if she knew your late husband. I mean did he come to Wyckhadden with you when he was alive?”
    “Yes, we came every summer.” Daisy sighed. “I suppose that’s why I decided to retire here. So many happy memories. But Francie never met my Hugh. Let’s talk about something else. What about you and the inspector?”
    “I met him for the first time this week,” said Agatha. “He took me to a dance on the pier.”
    “What was that like?” asked Daisy wistfully. “Is it still the same?”
    “I suppose it is.”
    “Hugh and I used to go to the dances there. I tried to get the colonel to take me, but he said he had no time for such nonsense.”
    She looked so sad that Agatha said impulsively, “We can always go together one evening. I mean you and me.”
    “Oh, you are good.”
    “It seems as if I’m stuck here for a bit. May as well.”
    Daisy gave a surprisingly youthful giggle. “I wonder what they’ll do without me at their Scrabble game?”
    They ate a companionable breakfast.
    “I think I’ll go for a walk,” said Agatha.
    “When should we go to the dance?” asked Daisy eagerly. “There’s one on tonight.”
    “May as well go then,” said Agatha, but already regretting her impulse.
    Agatha went upstairs to get her coat. She decided to wash and blow-dry her hair before she went out and then apply some more of that lotion. She shampooed her hair and then examined her scalp. On the bald patches was now growing a faint fuzz of new hair. It’s a miracle, thought Agatha. When I get back to Carsely, I’ll get this hair lotion analysed and I might be able to make a fortune if it really works.
    Feeling quite elated, she wound a pretty chiffon scarf around her head in a sort of Turkish turban, put on her coat and headed out of the hotel. It was very cold and windy, but Agatha was determined to exercise and return to Carsely a new, thin Agatha. She set out in the opposite direction she had gone before, to the east rather than the west. She kept away from the sea-wall, for the tide was high and occasionally a great wave would break over the wall. The air was full of the sounds of screaming sea-gulls and crashing sea. Reaching the end of the promenade in that direction, she turned back and headed west, past the hotel. She turned up into the centre of the town where she found an elegant little boutique. In the window was a short black silk chiffon dress, cut low and with thin straps. Bit chilly for Wyckhadden in winter, thought Agatha. But she knew she still had smooth shoulders and a good bust. Wouldn’t do any harm to try it on.
    She emerged twenty minutes later with the dress in a bag. It was too good for the pier dance, but for a candle-lit dinner with James Lacey…
    Agatha found her steps leading her to that pub where she had first met Jimmy. It was just about lunch-time and he might be there.
    She pushed opened the door of the pub and went in. It smelt like all dingy pubs, of stale beer and Bisto gravy.
    No Jimmy. A couple of business men at one table, the adulterous couple at another, three youths propping up the bar.
    She went over to the bar and ordered a gin and tonic. She took out her wallet to pay for it when a voice behind her said to the bartender, “I’ll get that, Charlie. And half a pint of lager for me.” She turned quickly and saw Jimmy smiling down at her.
    “Thank you,” said Agatha. “How are things going?”
    He paid for the drinks and then they sat down at a table. “The motive seems to have been robbery,” said Jimmy.
    “Oh.” Agatha was disappointed. She had been nursing a dream where it would turn out one of the residents at the Garden had committed the murder and