Agatha's First Case Read Free Page B

Hullo.”
    â€œAnd what do you do?” asked Agatha, feeling she had walked through the looking glass into this strange world where it seemed natural to chat in the Ritz with a handsome man with an Etonian accent.
    â€œI’m in the Household Cavalry. Off-duty. Look, why don’t we get together later? Have a drink and chat? I feel like a night out.”
    â€œAll right,” said Agatha cautiously. “Where?”
    â€œWhat about Jules Bar in Jermyn Street at eight o’clock?”
    Agatha grinned. “See you there.”
    She dreamily watched as he was leaving. A porter waylaid him and said something. He looked startled, glanced back at Agatha, and then hurriedly left.
    *   *   *
    When she returned to her office, Freda was still there. “Why haven’t you gone home?” asked Agatha.
    â€œI thought I would wait for you because just as I was leaving, that big parcel arrived. You’ve got a delivery from Selfridges. And you said something about a press conference tomorrow and I wondered if you wanted me to go with you?”
    â€œYes. Fine. Now, off you go!”
    After she had left, Agatha unwrapped the large package. It contained an airbed, duvet, pillows, and bed linen. She hauled them into a small room at the back of the office where she had placed two suitcases containing all her belongings from Acton. It never dawned on Agatha that Bryce and his business manager expected her to spend lavishly with the funds at her disposal and that would include a flat in central London. She pumped up the airbed, arranged the bed linens. With Agatha, the habits of thriftiness died hard. Then she checked Freda’s computer. All the press were invited to a conference at Bryce’s at ten-thirty in the morning. Agatha did not want them round at her office until she had a full staff.
    A little voice of caution was telling her not to be a fool and to phone Jules Bar at eight and say she could not make it. She had allowed herself to be picked up. But Agatha was easily seduced by what she considered as posh.
    So, at eight o’ clock on the dot, she entered Jules Bar, found a table, and sat nervously waiting … and waiting.
    Over in his home in Kensington, Colin cursed himself for having nearly forgotten his wife’s dinner party. That little girl would be waiting in Jules Bar. Oh, well. Hard luck.
    *   *   *
    Agatha left the bar at eight-thirty feeling very young and vulnerable. She bought herself a sandwich and coffee before returning to the office and preparing for bed. She had found, to her relief, that the offices boasted a shower as well as a toilet. She fished two towels and a bar of soap out of one of her suitcases, showered, and finally rolled into bed. The airbed let out a sound like a loud fart. Agatha hoped the gods were not pronouncing judgement on one overambitious girl and then fell asleep.

II
    The room in Wigmore Street set aside for the press conference was full to overflowing. Bertha sat nervously in an armchair facing them, her plump face lit up by the lights from the television cameras.
    Bertha tried to speak and then burst into tears. Agatha handed her a box of tissues and hissed, “Pull yourself together!”
    Bertha gulped and said in a weak voice, “I’m that ashamed. How I could believe that a fine man like my boss could murder anyone? He’s forgiven me, and God bless him.”
    â€œWhat was your opinion of the late Lady Teller?” asked a reporter.
    Bertha popped on her glasses and peered down at a piece of paper on which Agatha had written out what she must say.
    â€œI don’t want to speak ill of the dead,” she said. “But she was something cruel. Always bitching and complaining and treating my boss like dirt. Hardly ever home in the evenings.”
    Agatha immediately regretted writing that bit about “treating my boss like dirt.” Talk about broadcasting a motive!
    Time to