Free Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist by M. C. Beaton Page A

for about a week. Do you really want to see the covered market again?"
    "Not really. I wanted to talk to you without the others listening. Somewhere in their backgrounds must be some sort of clue to Rose's death. What if we fax Bill Wong from the Onar Village Hotel on the way back and ask him to dig something up?"
    "Let's leave it for another day," said James cautiously. "They may find out something here and then we do not need to bother Mircester police. In fact, why don't we do some sightseeing and pack up a picnic tomorrow and go and have a look at some of the sights. We'll start with Saint Hilarion."
    Agatha was still staring into the jeweller's window as he talked. She suddenly pressed his arm warningly. For behind them, and in the window, she saw the reflections of Olivia and party.
    How long had they been standing there?
    They swung round. "We thought we'd take a look at the covered market as well," said Olivia.
    "We've changed our minds," said Agatha before James could speak. The weather was still very warm and Olivia was wearing a brief sun-dress which showed her excellent breasts. I wish it would start to freeze, thought Agatha.
    "What about dinner tonight?" asked Olivia.
    "There's a very good restaurant at Zeytinlik, just outside Kyrenia," said James to Agatha's dismay. "The Ottoman House. Eight o'clock?"
    "Great. We'll see you there."
    "Aye, we've got to stick together," said Angus.
    "Why on earth did you say that?" demanded Agatha angrily as they walked away. "Surely we've seen enough of them for one day."
    "You want to investigate, don't you?" demanded James, steering her round a cartful of watermelons. "What do we really know about Harry and Angus, apart from the fact that Harry is a farmer and Angus a retired shopkeeper?"
    "If we faxed Bill Wong, we'd find out all we have to know," said Agatha sulkily.
    "Bill Wong may be too busy to bother about a murder case in Cyprus. It's only a dinner, Agatha, and we have the rest of the day to ourselves."
    But when they got back to the villa, it was three-thirty in the afternoon and James said he was going to write.
    Agatha retired to her room and began to search through her clothes for something to outshine Olivia. There was a phone extension in her room. On impulse she threw a pile of brightly coloured clothes on the bed and dialled the number of the vicar's wife, Mrs. Bloxby.
    "Agatha," said Mrs. Bloxby. "How are you getting on? We read about the murder in the newspapers."
    Agatha told her all about it, looking out of the window at the blue Mediterranean and thinking how very far away the village of Carsely seemed.
    "And has this murder brought you and James closer together?" asked the vicar's wife when Agatha had finished.
    "Not really," said Agatha on a sigh. "You know James."
    "Oh, Agatha, I wish you could meet a really warmhearted man!"
    "James is a warmhearted man. He just doesn't know how to show his feelings!"
    "He may not have any to show."
    "That's not true!" said Agatha furiously.
    The vicar's wife was contrite. "I didn't really mean to say that, Agatha. I mean, I should not have said that. I don't know what came over me. We miss you here. Do you know when you are coming back?"
    Agatha glared furiously through the open window at the sea and took a deep breath of sweet-scented air. She hated Carsely and never wanted to go back there again. Why couldn't everyone mind their own business? "I don't know," she snapped.
    "If only I had kept my big mouth shut," said Mrs. Bloxby to her husband later. "Poor Agatha."
    The vicar peered at his wife over the tops of his spectacles. "I would not feel sorry for Agatha Raisin. In my opinion she and James Lacey thoroughly deserve each other."

FOUR

    THE evening was warm and sticky, and dark clouds obscured the moon. Agatha had put on full make-up, but as they arrived at the restaurant in Zeytinlik, she could feel foundation and mascara beginning to melt. She was wearing a black evening dress with a short skirt and high collar.