As the Pig Turns - By M.C. Beaton Page 0,43

regiment’s on leave and they’re all going to be there. It’s going to be a big production. Toni, the mayor is going to attend. I’m trapped. It’s all Agatha’s fault.’

‘Hardly,’ said Toni. ‘She wasn’t in Afghanistan. She didn’t make you propose to Susie.’

‘No, but I was feeling flat, and Susie’s a good sort. She was very sympathetic, and one thing led to another.’

‘There’s still time to get out of it,’ urged Toni. ‘Think of the misery of a loveless marriage.’

‘Oh, Susie does love me. Oh, what is it?’

‘The waitress wants your order,’ said Toni.

They both ordered tea and scones. The shadow of the church spire moved across the window of the tearoom. Toni felt bleak. When Simon had phoned her, she was sure he was going to tell her the marriage was off.

‘So you are going ahead with it,’ she said in a small voice.

‘I have to—’ Simon broke off as tea and scones arrived.

Toni gave a little sigh. ‘It’s up to you. Why did you let it get so far?’

‘She’s pregnant.’

‘Oh, Simon!’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe being a dad will have a lot of compensations.’ He looked at her eagerly. ‘We can still see each other.’

‘No, we can’t,’ said Toni roundly. ‘I’ve got my own life to lead, and creeping around meeting a married man doesn’t come into it.’

There was a long, awkward silence. Then Simon said, ‘Tell me about this dead policeman case.’

Toni gave him a précis. ‘It sounds like a gang,’ she concluded. ‘Look at all the criminal gangs Britain let in after the European Union opened the borders: Bulgarians, Romanians and so on.’

‘But what is there for them in Mircester, of all places?’ said Simon. ‘It’s hardly a big city like Birmingham. For one thing, there’s nowhere really to hide out. And is this Tom Richards squeaky clean? Seems a bit of an odd fish wanting two women to have plastic surgery.’

‘It’s not as odd as you think. The divorce cases we handle are usually instigated by the women. The husband sees all these sexual fantasies on television and wants to try some of them out at home. The woman says no. Fights ensue. Divorce follows. I suppose wanting the wife to have plastic surgery is another part of the fantasy. Agatha’s told us not to go near anything to do with the murders.’

‘Not like her.’

‘Well, getting a dead head through the post was enough to frighten even Agatha Raisin. I’d better be getting back, Simon. I won’t be seeing you again.’

‘You’ll come to my wedding?’

‘No thanks.’

‘But I’ve invited the whole agency. They’re all coming.’

‘Well, in that case, I might drop along.’

Chapter Nine

When Toni reached her car, she had a sudden urge to watch Mrs Fiona Richards. Phil had told her that Fiona had not called him, and when he had called her, she’d said she was too busy. Amy Richards might have said something to her husband, and he might have told Fiona. It might be he was too afraid to pass any information along to the police in case something happened to him. In her car, she put on a baseball cap and pulled it down over her face and put on a pair of dark glasses. Satisfied she looked like any other anonymous teenager, she set out for Fiona Richards’s house. Fiona’s car was not in the drive.

Toni set off for the centre of town. Perhaps Fiona had gone to do some shopping. It was market day. Toni walked up and down between the stalls. As lunchtime approached, she decided to try the George. She checked the hotel’s private parking place and recognized Fiona’s car. Toni decided to sit in an armchair in reception and say she was waiting for someone.

Armed with a newspaper, she glanced round it occasionally as people entered the hotel.

She found to her surprise as she waited that she no longer felt anything for Simon at all. He had only been a dream. If Agatha had not interfered, then the dream would not have been kept alive.

‘Excuse me, are you Toni Gilmour?’

Toni lowered her newspaper. A man was standing there, smiling down at her. She registered that he was very expensively dressed and immaculately barbered. He smelled faintly of cologne. He had a wide, pleasant face, and although his body was broad, it looked sturdy. His eyes were brown with little flecks of gold.

‘I am Toni Gilmour,’ said Toni, thinking her baseball cap and dark glasses had turned out to be a pretty poor disguise.

He sat down beside her. ‘It’s cheeky