Free Agatha Raisin: Hiss and Hers by MC Beaton Page A

examined the parcel while Agatha described the recent hate campaign against her in the village. ‘I thought it was all over,’ she wailed.
    â€˜It might be something innocent,’ said Bill.
    â€˜Well, you open it!’ said Agatha.
    â€˜I’m going to go ahead,’ said Bill. ‘You and Alice had better leave the kitchen. I really don’t think it’s a bomb.’
    â€˜We’ll be in the garden,’ said Agatha, shooing her cats outside to safety.
    She and Alice waited anxiously while the cats chased each other over the grass. I wonder if there is such a thing as reincarnation, thought Agatha. I wouldn’t mind coming back as a cat. But what if I ended up in a home with ghastly children who would torture me?
    Bill opened the kitchen door. ‘You can come in now. It’s safe.’
    Alice and Agatha walked into the kitchen. Bill had removed the brown paper wrapping to reveal a box of Belgian chocolates. A pink card was on top of the box. It read, ‘Best wishes from Carsely.’
    â€˜There you are,’ said Bill. ‘False alarm.’
    â€˜I still don’t like it,’ said Agatha. ‘Look! The box has been sealed on either side with bits of Scotch tape. I don’t think it was like that in the shop.’
    Bill took out a penknife and slit the tape. He lifted the lid of the box and then removed the quilted white paper that covered the top of the chocolates.
    He let out a cry of alarm. An adder slid out of the box, and, in front of their horrified eyes, slid rapidly across the table, dropped to the floor and sped out into the garden.
    â€˜My cats!’ shrieked Agatha, running into the garden.
    â€˜Come back!’ yelled Bill as Agatha frantically chased her cats around the garden, trying to catch them. But Hodge and Boswell thought it was a new game and kept racing away from her.
    Bill and Alice seized Agatha and marched her back into the kitchen. ‘Sit down, you silly woman,’ roared Bill. ‘I’ll get on to headquarters. We need a snake handler and a forensic team.’
    Agatha tempted her cats indoors with a packet of pâté and sat shivering with shock despite the heat of the day. She retreated to her living room with her cats as the house filled up with men in white suits and a snake handler who began to search the garden.
    Alice Peterson followed her in and took down a statement. Agatha had just finished speaking when they heard a cry: ‘Got it!’
    Agatha went through to the kitchen, where the snake handler was holding a bag. ‘Your adder is nearly dead,’ he said. ‘Might have been fed something to tranquillize it and get it into the box and been given too much. Of course, adders are in trouble. There’s been a lot of inbreeding and some of them are dying off. Pity.’
    â€˜What do you mean, “pity”?’ raged Agatha. ‘It would relieve my mind if the whole lot perished.’
    â€˜Now, now,’ admonished the snake handler. ‘They’re God’s creatures.’
    â€˜I don’t care if it’s dead,’ said Agatha. ‘Just get it out of here!’
    The snake handler had a freckled face and sandy hair. His wide blue eyes looked at Agatha with disapproval. ‘This is Britain’s last venomous snake and we will do all we can to preserve it. We are taking DNA swabs of adders and moving them to different locations to stop inbreeding. So many of their natural habitats have been destroyed.’
    â€˜I repeat,’ said Agatha through gritted teeth, ‘get it out of here.’ She retreated to the sitting room and asked Alice if she might go to the local pub and leave the police to do their work. ‘You have my mobile number,’ said Agatha. ‘You can phone me when you are finished.’
    Alice checked with Bill and then returned to give Agatha permission.
    In the garden of the Red Lion, Agatha phoned the newspapers and television and gave