As the Pig Turns - By M.C. Beaton Page 0,60

Tulloch drove a knife into Simon’s side. The car stopped a moment before jerking forward. There was no one in the cars behind. Tulloch tore the skeleton from its chair and hauled Simon out on to the thin ramp used by the fairground engineers. He shoved Simon into the chair and then walked along the ramp to where there was a break in the canvas tent that covered the exhibit. He let himself out into the fairground and disappeared in the crowds.

Patsy Broadband and her boyfriend, Terry Kelly, climbed, giggling, into a car at the Haunted House. ‘We seem to be the only people here,’ said Patsy.

‘Good,’ said Terry. ‘We can have a bit o’ fun.’

‘Oh, go on! You are a one, ain’t you? Just you be keeping your hands to yourself.’

Halfway through the journey, Terry complained, ‘This is the least scariest place I’ve ever been in. Nothing but screeches and bits o’ painted plastic.’

The chair lurched to a halt. The chair holding Simon tipped forward and his body landed on top of them. Patsy screamed and screamed, ‘Get him offa me!’

‘Better not. Get him out o’ here,’ said Terry. ‘He’s fainted or something.’

The car lurched out into the garish light of the fairground.

‘Hey What’s all this, then?’ demanded the attendant.

‘He fell out on us,’ said Terry.

‘Oh, God, he’s bleeding all over my new dress!’ screamed Patsy, and went into strong hysterics.

An ambulance was called, the police were called, and Simon, fluttering between life and death, was rushed to hospital.

Chapter Twelve

Toni was just about to leave her flat when she was confronted by Alice Peterson. ‘You’re to come with me to headquarters,’ she said. ‘Get in the car.’

‘What’s up?’ asked Toni.

‘You’ll find out when we get there,’ was all Alice would say.

‘I thought it was only on TV that detectives refused to answer questions. Is Agatha all right and everyone at the agency?’

‘Yes.’

‘And James and Charles?’

‘Yes.’

Toni worried and worried until she was at last in an interviewing room faced by Wilkes, Bill Wong and a policeman standing guard by the door.

Wilkes started the tape and then began. ‘Simon Black is in hospital in intensive care.’

‘What happened?’

‘He was employed by Mixden’s detective agency. We got a warrant to search his flat, and there on his computer was a full report of everything you had told him about Mrs Raisin’s suspicions that the murderer might be some policeman. The report was ready to be sent to Mixden.’

‘I once applied for a job there,’ said Toni, ‘but Mixden wanted me to spy on Agatha’s agency for him. Oh, what on earth has Simon been up to? Will he live? Was he shot?’

‘No, he was stabbed at the fairground and left to die inside the Haunted House. If he hadn’t fallen forward across a couple, he would be dead by now. He lost a lot of blood. But the stab wound appears to have missed anything vital. We are waiting for him to come round.’

‘He told me he was unemployed!’ said Toni, tears standing out in her eyes. ‘I’ve been such a fool.’

‘In your discussions, did he name anyone he suspected?’

‘No. I would have told Agatha.’

The questioning went on. Bill was sorry for Toni. Wilkes all but accused her of having an affair with Simon. Bill often wondered how pretty Toni could manage to maintain her air of innocence, considering the work she did and the things she had seen. He wondered if she was still a virgin. Maybe there were some left in this wicked day and age.

Toni was finally read out a statement and asked to sign it.

When she had left, Bill said, ‘You were a bit hard on her, sir.’

‘I am sick and tired of Agatha Raisin and her employees interfering with police work,’ said Wilkes.

‘But it looks as if Mrs Raisin’s seemingly mad leap of intuition is going to be proved right.’

‘Who was on holiday at the time Chelsea was taken in Las Vegas?’

‘Just . . . Oh, what is it?’

The policeman at the door who had been talking to someone outside said urgently, ‘I think you’d better hear this, sir. There’s a chap out in reception.’

‘Better be good,’ snarled Wilkes. Both he and Bill were suffering from lack of sleep.

Wilfred Butterfield rose to meet them as they walked into the reception area. He burst out with ‘As soon as I saw his photo on the telly, I knew it was my duty to come forward.’

‘Do you mean Simon Black?’

‘Yes, he called at our showroom in Birmingham. He said he