Dishing the Dirt by M. C. Beaton Read Free Book Online Page A

holiday and keen to do a bit of detecting,” said Simon. “He dies. His cleaning woman picks up this discarded leaf and has a seizure. Jill Davent, that therapist, I am sure, found out something about someone, and whatever it was panicked a murderer.”
    “I’ll just phone the hospital.” Simon waited while Ruby phoned, studying her attractive profile. How old was she? Maybe a good bit older than he was. He wondered whether to ask her out.
    She finally rang off and said that Mrs. Danby was still alive.
    Simon took the plunge. “What do you do in your spare time?” he asked.
    Ruby flashed him an amused look. “Are you chatting me up?”
    “Trying to,” said Simon.
    There was a rap at the car window. “Detective Inspector Briggs, Mr. Black,” said a man, leaning in the passenger window. “Have you made a statement?”
    “Yes.”
    “Well, you are to go directly to Mircester police headquarters and tell them what you’ve been up to.” Off with you.”
    When he had left, Simon groaned. “They’ll probably keep me up all night. Do you have a card?”
    Ruby smiled and handed one over.
    “Thanks,” said Simon. “I’ll be in touch.”
    She isn’t wearing any rings, he thought happily, as he drove off to Mircester.
    *   *   *
    Unaware of what was going on, Agatha sat in her own cleaner’s cosy parlour and asked, “Why did you consult Jill Davent? I would have thought you were the last person to need a therapist.”
    “I met her in the village shop,” said Doris Simpson. Her cat, Scrabble, jumped on her capacious lap and settled down to sleep. “I had been suffering with pains in my shoulders. She said it was tension and she could take the pain away. Well, the doctor couldn’t find nothing wrong so I thought I’d give it a try. She massaged my shoulders and said she was taking all my tension away. Then she not only made me cough up sixty pounds but charged me twenty for the massage oil.”
    “If you are suffering from tension, you’re worried. Out with it.”
    “I’m right ashamed. We decided to buy this council house, but I was overambitious, like. I’m behind with the payments and the bank is threatening to repossess.”
    Agatha thought rapidly. The council houses were good solid property.
    “Who would you have left it to, if you had succeeded in buying it?”
    “We haven’t even made a will, Agatha. We couldn’t have children and there’s no one close.”
    “Well, here’s what we’ll do,” said Agatha. “I’ll buy it, but you live in it till the end of your days. I’ll put a codicil in my will to that effect. We’ll see the lawyers and bank tomorrow.”
    “But your job is dangerous! What if me and hubby outlive you? You won’t get any benefit.”
    Agatha hadn’t thought of that. On the other hand, Doris was a superb cleaner and she looked after Agatha’s cats when Agatha was away.
    She shrugged. “Oh, let’s go for it. Deal?”
    “Oh, Agatha! You’re a saint. May you live forever.”
    But out in the nighttime darkness of the Cotswolds, someone was already planning to send Agatha Raisin to an early grave.

 
    Chapter Four
    Everything seemed to grind to a halt. Spring moved into summer. Agatha could not find out the results of Mrs. Danby’s illness, except that somehow it was because she had picked up a leaf. But what type of leaf? Agatha could not understand why it was taking them so long to identify it.
    The fact was, as Patrick Mulligan was at last able to find out, that the leaf had somehow become lost in the forensic lab. How?
    A young forensic scientist who had gone on holiday was eventually tracked down to one of the Greek islands. At first she claimed to know nothing about it, but under the grilling of two Thames Valley detectives, who were determined not to find out that their journey had been unnecessary, burst into tears and confessed she had opened the lab window to call down to her boyfriend and several bits and pieces had blown out.
    A hurried and frantic