Silver. Roy had once worked for Agatha when she had run her own public relations firm. He was still in PR. As a
concession to a visit to the countryside, Roy was wearing a sports jacket, but underneath he sported a T-shirt with the logo Ready To Kill. He was a rather weedy young man with a weak pale face and
fine hair, cut short and gelled into small spikes all over his narrow head.
‘Aggie, darling,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ll just pop my bag in the spare room.’
Agatha caught an amused look in Tom’s eyes and said hurriedly, ‘My young friend used to work for me. You might have phoned, Roy.’
‘Came on an impulse. Read about all the Cotswolds mayhem in the papers and then nothing. I thought you might have asked me for Christmas. There I was on my little own.’
‘I assumed everyone I knew would be booked up for Christmas,’ said Agatha defensively.
Roy went off upstairs. Agatha said, ‘I’d like to get back to Odley Cruesis and begin again. I don’t like the idea of asking you to work on your day off, Toni. I’ll let
you know on Monday how I get on.’
‘Oh, I’m free,’ said Toni blithely.
Agatha silently cursed both Roy and Toni. No chance of being alone with Tom.
When Roy came back downstairs, Agatha said, ‘We’re going detecting. You can stay here if you like.’
‘Dear Aggie, remember all the times I’ve spent ferreting around with you. Are we going to start today?’
‘I’ll get my notes,’ said Agatha, ‘and then we can split up.’
When she returned, she said, ‘First of all, Tom, do you want to go back to where you are staying and wait results? Where are you staying?’
‘At the George in Mircester. But I’d like to come with you.’
Agatha brightened. She consulted her notes. ‘Right. Toni, if you and Roy could go and see Tilly Glossop again, she might open up to you. Tom and I will go and see the Beagles and the
Summerses. Probably a waste of time but I would like to see them for myself.’ The doorbell shrilled.
‘Don’t move. I’ll get it.’ Toni ran to the door.
She came back with Mrs Bloxby. ‘I hadn’t seen you for a while,’ said the vicar’s wife, ‘and wondered how you were getting on.’
Agatha, who did not want another remark about her hip, flashed her friend a warning look. Mrs Bloxby focused on Tom for the first time. Agatha introduced them.
She’s off again, thought Mrs Bloxby. I should be worried about her, but she needed some man to bring the sparkle back.
‘We’re all going detecting,’ said Agatha.
‘In that case, I won’t keep you,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘But why don’t you all call at the vicarage for tea later and let me know how you get on?’
Agatha elected to drive after a look at Tom’s vehicle. It was a Range Rover and she cringed at the thought of climbing up into it. The day was still fine: blue sky,
yellow daffodils, pink cherry blossoms and some purple stuff that Agatha didn’t know the name of growing out of the old Cotswold walls.
‘Young Roy seems a close friend of yours,’ said Tom.
‘I suppose he is.’
‘Aren’t you frightened of getting AIDS?’
Agatha nearly swerved into a ditch. She stopped the car and said in a thin voice, ‘I am not having an affair with Roy. I do not know whether he is homosexual or not. I never asked, it
being none of my business, but it wouldn’t matter if he were.’
‘But the close contact?’ said Tom.
Agatha glared at him. ‘Are you one of those freaks who think you can get it from lavatory seats?’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Tom. ‘I didn’t take you for a liberal.’
‘You see before you,’ said Agatha, ‘an apolitical woman with a lot of common sense who doesn’t listen to folk stories or ill-informed scares. Now, can we get
on?’
They drove on in silence, Agatha’s interest in Tom extinguished. As they were driving into Odley Cruesis, Tom said, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I lost a good friend to
AIDS.’
‘What
concession to a visit to the countryside, Roy was wearing a sports jacket, but underneath he sported a T-shirt with the logo Ready To Kill. He was a rather weedy young man with a weak pale face and
fine hair, cut short and gelled into small spikes all over his narrow head.
‘Aggie, darling,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek. ‘I’ll just pop my bag in the spare room.’
Agatha caught an amused look in Tom’s eyes and said hurriedly, ‘My young friend used to work for me. You might have phoned, Roy.’
‘Came on an impulse. Read about all the Cotswolds mayhem in the papers and then nothing. I thought you might have asked me for Christmas. There I was on my little own.’
‘I assumed everyone I knew would be booked up for Christmas,’ said Agatha defensively.
Roy went off upstairs. Agatha said, ‘I’d like to get back to Odley Cruesis and begin again. I don’t like the idea of asking you to work on your day off, Toni. I’ll let
you know on Monday how I get on.’
‘Oh, I’m free,’ said Toni blithely.
Agatha silently cursed both Roy and Toni. No chance of being alone with Tom.
When Roy came back downstairs, Agatha said, ‘We’re going detecting. You can stay here if you like.’
‘Dear Aggie, remember all the times I’ve spent ferreting around with you. Are we going to start today?’
‘I’ll get my notes,’ said Agatha, ‘and then we can split up.’
When she returned, she said, ‘First of all, Tom, do you want to go back to where you are staying and wait results? Where are you staying?’
‘At the George in Mircester. But I’d like to come with you.’
Agatha brightened. She consulted her notes. ‘Right. Toni, if you and Roy could go and see Tilly Glossop again, she might open up to you. Tom and I will go and see the Beagles and the
Summerses. Probably a waste of time but I would like to see them for myself.’ The doorbell shrilled.
‘Don’t move. I’ll get it.’ Toni ran to the door.
She came back with Mrs Bloxby. ‘I hadn’t seen you for a while,’ said the vicar’s wife, ‘and wondered how you were getting on.’
Agatha, who did not want another remark about her hip, flashed her friend a warning look. Mrs Bloxby focused on Tom for the first time. Agatha introduced them.
She’s off again, thought Mrs Bloxby. I should be worried about her, but she needed some man to bring the sparkle back.
‘We’re all going detecting,’ said Agatha.
‘In that case, I won’t keep you,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘But why don’t you all call at the vicarage for tea later and let me know how you get on?’
Agatha elected to drive after a look at Tom’s vehicle. It was a Range Rover and she cringed at the thought of climbing up into it. The day was still fine: blue sky,
yellow daffodils, pink cherry blossoms and some purple stuff that Agatha didn’t know the name of growing out of the old Cotswold walls.
‘Young Roy seems a close friend of yours,’ said Tom.
‘I suppose he is.’
‘Aren’t you frightened of getting AIDS?’
Agatha nearly swerved into a ditch. She stopped the car and said in a thin voice, ‘I am not having an affair with Roy. I do not know whether he is homosexual or not. I never asked, it
being none of my business, but it wouldn’t matter if he were.’
‘But the close contact?’ said Tom.
Agatha glared at him. ‘Are you one of those freaks who think you can get it from lavatory seats?’
‘Sorry,’ mumbled Tom. ‘I didn’t take you for a liberal.’
‘You see before you,’ said Agatha, ‘an apolitical woman with a lot of common sense who doesn’t listen to folk stories or ill-informed scares. Now, can we get
on?’
They drove on in silence, Agatha’s interest in Tom extinguished. As they were driving into Odley Cruesis, Tom said, ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have said that. I lost a good friend to
AIDS.’
‘What
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