Free Agatha Raisin and the Vicious Vet by MC Beaton

avail. ‘Come out, Agatha,’ said Bill.
    Agatha miserably crawled out from under the table, her face red with shame.
    ‘Now, Agatha,’ said Bill, ‘what have you been up to? PC Wood here called me into the George. A woman answering your description went in and vandalized the ladies’ room, tearing a hand basin out of the wall and flooding the place. People in the square saw you running in here. What have you to say for yourself?’
    ‘I had a spot on my nose,’ mumbled Agatha.
    ‘Speak up. I can’t hear you.’
    ‘ I had a spot on my nose ,’ roared Agatha. Everyone looked at her and James Lacey desperately wished himself elsewhere.
    ‘And how did that make you tear the hand basin out of the wall?’ asked Bill.
    ‘I bought make-up at the chemist’s.’ Agatha’s voice was now reduced to a flat even tone. ‘I wanted to cover up the spot, but the light in the Ladies’ wasn’t working and I thought it probably needed a new bulb. I remembered I had a packet of light bulbs in the car and went to get one. But the only way I could get to the light was by standing on the basin. It came away from the wall. I was so shocked I decided to say nothing about it.’
    ‘I am afraid you are going to have to come with me,’ said Bill severely.
    The fact that James Lacey did not offer to accompany her, that he muttered something awkwardly about staying put and reading the newspapers, plunged him low in Agatha’s estimation despite her distress. So much for the knight errant of her dreams. He was going to sit safely while she dealt with a no doubt enraged landlord.
    James went out a few moments after they had left. He bought two newspapers and then returned to the pub. But he could not concentrate on the stories. Damn Agatha. What a woman. What a stupid thing to do! And then the ridiculous side of it all struck him and he began to laugh and, once started, couldn’t seem to stop, although people edged away from his table nervously. He finally mopped his eyes and, tucking the unread papers under his arm, strode over to the George.
    Agatha was holding out a cheque which the landlord of the George was refusing. ‘Ho, no, you don’t get off that easily,’ he said. He was an unpleasant-looking man with a face like a slab of Cheddar cheese, the skin yellow and slightly sweating with rage. ‘You charge this woman, officer,’ he said to Bill, ‘and I’ll see her in court. You charge her with wilful vandalism.’
    James twitched the cheque out of Agatha’s fingers and blinked slightly at the large sum. ‘You can’t afford this,’ he said to Agatha. ‘A lady like yourself, existing on a widow’s pension, cannot afford a sum like this. Declare yourself bankrupt and then, even if he takes you to court, he won’t get a penny. I know a good solicitor just around the corner.’
    ‘Good idea,’ said Bill. ‘You need a solicitor anyway. He’ll want to know why there was no
    light bulb in the Ladies’ in the first place, why the basin fell away from the wall so easily. The wiring in this pub had better be checked, too.’
    ‘I’ll take the cheque,’ growled the landlord desperately.
    ‘You’ll take another cheque,’ said James firmly. ‘Agatha, get your cheque-book and write out one for half this sum.’
    The Cheddar cheese looked ready to explode again, but a steely look from James silenced him.
    Agatha wrote out the new cheque while James tore up the old one.
    When they were all outside in the square, Bill said, ‘If that had been a nice, respectable landlord, I might have charged you, Agatha. Anyway, thanks to Mr Lacey, it’s all sorted out. What about dinner tonight?’
    Agatha hesitated. She had originally thought her day with James might end in an intimate dinner. On the other hand, better to continue to play it cool. ‘Yes, that would be nice. Where do you live? I know your phone number but not your address.’
    ‘It’s number 24, The Beeches. You go out of town on the Fosse and take the first left along