Free Agatha Raisin and Kissing Christmas Goodbye by M. C. Beaton Page A

light it.’
    There came the scraping sound of a match being lit and then the oil lamp blossomed into light, sending out a golden glow.
    ‘The police van’s still lit up,’ remarked Sir Henry.
    ‘They’ve got a generator,’ said Alison.
    The door opened and Charles came in, followed by the constable.
    ‘Lady Field,’ said the constable, ‘you’re next.’
    ‘I’ll come with her,’ said Sir Henry.
    ‘My orders were to take only Lady Field,’ said the constable firmly.
    ‘Come on, Aggie.’ Charles patted her on the head. ‘We can go.’
    ‘Just like that!’
    ‘Just like that. Come on. Let’s go upstairs and pack. Some policewoman’s waiting to escort us to make sure we don’t poison anyone on the road out.’
    As soon as they were in the car, Agatha said, ‘I didn’t tell them about listening at the window.’
    ‘I did,’ said Charles.
    Agatha wailed, ‘Now I’ll get a rocket!’
    ‘Why didn’t you tell them?’
    ‘It seemed so sneaky.’
    ‘You’re a detective. You’re expected to be sneaky. Anyway, Bill’s going to call on us in the morning to take a full statement.’
     
Chapter Five
    Toni lay in bed in her little flat and listened to the rain drumming on the roof. She wondered if her brother or mother would contact the police. But after some worrying, she
doubted it. Agatha would explain why she had ridden to the rescue and Terry would be charged. No more lying in bed with the pillow over her head listening to the loud noise of the television set
downstairs or the occasional screams of her mother having the DTs in the bedroom next door.
    Her gratitude to Agatha weighed down on her like a burden. She hoped a really important case would come her way and she would solve it. That would be a good way to pay Agatha back for all she
had done.
    Agatha drove slowly to her office the next morning through a rain-washed sunny countryside. Instead of Bill calling on her, she had received a phone call to tell her that he
was tied up and to await further instructions. The leaves were turning yellow, gold and brown. The pretty Cotswolds looked their best, free at last from the burden of tourists.
    Agatha, not very often sensitive to beauty, nonetheless could not help noticing the splendour of the morning and suddenly wished she were less driven, less ambitious, and could retire into the
embrace of a quiet domestic country life.
    But as she reached the drab outskirts of Mircester, she began to plan the day ahead. She would need to explain why she had not told the police about listening at the window yesterday afternoon.
She would also need to explain why cavalier Charles had suddenly decided to go to his own home, telling her that the police could interview him there.
    When she got to the office, Mrs Freedman told her the police had already called and she was to go immediately to Mircester police headquarters to make a statement. Agatha groaned. Facing Bill
would have been bad enough, but now she would have to explain herself to his superior.
    She noticed Charles’s car parked outside the police station. So he had been summoned as well.
    She entered the police headquarters. It had recently been refurbished to make it look more ‘customer friendly’. Gone was the institutional green, to be replaced with what was meant
to be sunny yellow but was the colour of sulphur. Two plastic palms, their fronds already covered in dust, stood in two pots looming over a shiny imitation-leather sofa and two plastic chairs.
    Agatha gave her name to the desk sergeant and was told to wait. And wait she did, longing for a cigarette. It was a full half-hour before she was summoned.
    She was led to an interview room, noticing it had escaped the redecoration. The same scarred table with coffee-ring marks and old cigarette burns from the days when smoking was allowed. The same
dull green walls.
    ‘Sit down, Mrs Raisin,’ said Wilkes. Bill was not there. Instead there was a woman in a grey power suit. She had a