Free Agatha Raisin and the Busy Body by MC Beaton Page B

like this, I suggest you go somewhere and pay for it. Now, if you don’t
mind—’
    Her mobile rang. She was later to thank God for the crassness of Tom’s approach or she might never have answered it. She listened in alarm to Roy’s message.
    ‘It’s Roy! He’s hurt.’
    She called the police, she called the ambulance, and then got to her feet and hurried to the door. ‘You’ve been drinking. You can’t drive,’ exclaimed Tom.
    ‘Oh, bug off, nancy boy,’ hissed Agatha and ran out of the room.
    When Agatha got to Odley Cruesis, she saw the police were already there and Roy was being loaded into an ambulance. She saw Bill Wong and hurried towards him. ‘Is Roy
alive?’
    ‘Just. It’s a bad blow.’
    ‘I’ll go in the ambulance with him.’
    ‘Agatha, you’ve been drinking.’
    ‘So what? I’m not going to drive the ambulance.’
    Agatha waited miserably at the hospital and was soon joined by Toni and Sharon. Bill had phoned Toni. ‘Any idea who did this?’ asked Agatha.
    Toni shook her head. ‘But it seems that Roy went to a bingo meeting at the village hall and claimed he knew the identity of the murderer and the murderer should speak to him outside and
confess all.’
    ‘I should never have given him that boxed set of Poirot for Christmas,’ mourned Agatha. ‘What on earth came over him? And which of the murders was he talking about? It
must be the first one because he knew I was having dinner with Tom.’
    ‘Here’s Bill,’ said Sharon.
    ‘It’s bad,’ said Bill. ‘There’s bleeding in the brain. They’re operating now. You may as well all go home. There’s nothing more you can do
here.’
    ‘Will he live?’
    ‘They don’t know. But evidently, for such a weak-looking fellow, he’s got a skull like iron and that might save him.’
    ‘Didn’t anyone see anything?’
    Bill told her about the call to the vicar’s wife.
    ‘But that’s ridiculous!’ exclaimed Agatha. ‘Roy tells them he knows the identity of the murderer, then he’s reported lying on the road and no one thinks they should
go and have a look at him?’
    ‘According to village report, they estimate he was drunk and sleeping it off.’
    ‘Any idea what struck him?’
    ‘Blunt instrument. Maybe a hammer. I don’t like Sergeant Collins but I was glad of her because she ripped into all these villagers, banging on doors, waking them up, shouting at them
– it would have done your heart glad, Agatha. Now, go home.’
    ‘Maybe I can sit by his bed,’ pleaded Agatha, ‘and, you know, talk to him.’
    ‘Agatha, it’s not a soap. He’s not in a coma. He’s under anaesthetic on an operating table getting a couple of holes drilled in his head. You’ll maybe be able to
see him in the morning. Go home and get some sleep.’
    Agatha was just wearily climbing into bed when the door opened and Charles strolled in.
    ‘Roy’s been hit on the head,’ said Agatha. ‘He might not live.’
    She burst into tears. Charles sat down on the bed and hugged her until she had finished crying. ‘Now, tell me all about it.’
    So Agatha did. When she had finished, Charles said, ‘I’ve been wondering about Tom Courtney.’
    ‘Why him?’ asked Agatha. ‘Anyway he was having dinner with me while someone was trying to kill Roy. And why would he want to kill John Sunday?’
    ‘Oh, I just thought that maybe he had already planned to bump off mum and torch the place and wanted Grudge out of the way before any objections to an expensive building site started up.
So he was having dinner with you and you’re back at dawn still smelling of Mademoiselle Coco. Did you get seduced?’
    ‘The call about Roy interrupted dinner, thank God. Do you know he asked me if I had shaved?’
    Charles ran a hand over Agatha’s face. ‘Smooth as a baby’s bum. Oh, you mean the other end. What larks! What a chat-up line!’
    ‘Leave me alone now, Charles. I’ve set the alarm. I’ve got to get back to the hospital first thing. And