As the Pig Turns - By M.C. Beaton Page 0,25

to sleep. She thanked her lawyer again, got into her car and set off over the whitened landscape. The snow had ceased, and the road down into Carsely was slippery again. She cruised down it in second gear, finally turning into Lilac Lane with a sigh of relief.

As she climbed out of her car, she found her knees were trembling. She clicked the lock on the car. She heard a voice call, ‘Agatha!’

She swung round. The moon had disappeared behind a bank of clouds, and she saw a tall, dark figure approaching her. She was just opening her mouth to scream when a once loved voice said, ‘Are you all right? I heard about the murder on the radio.’

‘James?’ said Agatha in a wondering voice. ‘Is it really you?’

‘Who else?’ replied her ex-husband, James Lacey.

‘Oh, I am so glad to see you,’ said Agatha, and burst into tears.

Inside Agatha’s cottage, James waited patiently in the kitchen while Agatha fled upstairs to repair her make-up. He looked just the same, she thought, with his thick hair going only a little grey at the sides and those intense blue eyes of his.

Satisfied at last that she had done as much to her face as was possible, she sprayed on Coco Mademoiselle and went down the stairs.

‘When did you get back?’ she asked.

‘Today . . . late. I was listening to the radio news when I learned a body had been found in the car park at Tesco’s supermarket. I thought it better to wait in Carsely for you to get back rather than miss you on the road. I’ve poured you a brandy. I suppose hot sweet tea would have been better, but you look as if you need something to cheer you up.’

Agatha nodded. He went through to the sitting room and returned with a goblet of brandy. Agatha took a gulp and smiled at him mistily. ‘It’s very good to see you. It seems I am now the number one suspect in the murder of Amy Richards.’

‘If you’re not too tired, tell me about it.’

‘I would like to,’ said Agatha. ‘I’m exhausted, but too strung up and nervous to sleep. Oh, I should have phoned Toni. They’ll have questioned her as well. Toni’s another problem. I’ll tell you all about it.’

James produced a small notebook and pen while Agatha talked and talked. He occasionally made notes.

When she had finished, James prompted, ‘You said there was some trouble with Toni. What is it?’

Wearily, Agatha outlined the situation and finished by saying plaintively, ‘Don’t look so severe. I’ve made a mess of things and I don’t know what to do.’

‘Simon was very young,’ remarked James. ‘And he certainly didn’t have undying love for Toni or he wouldn’t have fallen for this new girl so easily. The trouble is that you cannot possibly do anything about it. Toni will need to make her own mistakes from now on. She may come round. She is, you know, fiercely independent.’

‘But she’s so young!’

‘As you were once, Agatha, and I bet you were a bulldozer compared to Toni. I could try to have a word with her.’

‘Would you? She always respected you.’

‘Now, you’d best get off to bed. We’ll meet tomorrow, say, for lunch at the George. Have a long lie-in. I’ll phone the office for you.’

‘Where have you been?’

‘I still write travel books, but I’ve moved on to the large glossy type, exploring more remote parts of the world.’

‘Are there any remote parts left? I thought even the top of Everest was getting overcrowded.’

‘Oh, there are a few places. Lock up after me and go to bed.’

When he had gone and Agatha was drifting off to sleep, she was glad to find her old obsession for him had not returned. But I’m so weary of being on my own, she thought. Charles is like my cats, self-sufficient, and Roy would drop me like a shot if he got a good PR assignment.

But Agatha got only a few hours’ sleep. She was awakened at nine o’clock by her cleaner, Doris Simpson, telling her that Bill Wong and some female detective were downstairs waiting to talk to her.

Agatha gloomily surveyed her face in the bathroom mirror. She applied a cream that was supposed to remove bags and dark circles from under her eyes. It didn’t work. She put on a thick layer of make-up and decided she looked awful. Why was foundation cream either ghostly white or brown? She washed off the whole lot and put on