‘Good,’ said Simon. ‘Now, I have to pee.’
‘I’ll turn my back and promise not to peek,’ said Agatha, ‘and keep your voice down.’
The night wore on. Agatha drank cup after cup of coffee, willing herself to stay awake. Sometimes she could hear footsteps in the corridor outside and stiffened, waiting. She longed to be able to go outside and check if the policeman was still alert and on guard. There should have been two of them, she thought. What if he wanted to go to the loo? Her heart sank. The intelligent thing would be to use the loo in Simon’s bathroom.
Her eyes were just beginning to droop when she heard voices outside. She opened the bathroom door a crack.
‘Thought you’d never get here,’ she heard what she recognized as the policeman’s voice say. ‘I’m knackered. Don’t recognize you. You’re not from headquarters.’
‘Over from Worcester,’ she heard another voice say. ‘They’re drafting us in from all over.’
Agatha trembled. Didn’t that new voice have a slight Scottish burr?
Simon was fast asleep. How could he sleep in the middle of all this? thought Agatha angrily.
She kept the door open a crack. A man in police uniform was cautiously approaching the bed where Simon lay. And then, horrified, Agatha saw the glimpse of a syringe in his hand. She seized a porcelain bedpan and crept up behind him. As he gently pulled up the sleeve of Simon’s hospital nightgown, Agatha smashed the bedpan down on the back of his head.
Simon woke up with a scream. Agatha bent down and heaved the now unconscious man over. Tulloch! Footsteps could be heard racing along the corridor, and suddenly the room was full of policemen.
‘It’s Tulloch!’ said Agatha. ‘I hope I haven’t killed him.’
Tulloch groaned and tried to sit up. A hospital trolley was brought in, and he was handcuffed to it and wheeled away for treatment.
It transpired that the policeman who had left thinking his tour of duty was over had told the police at the entrance to the hospital that he had been replaced by a man from Worcester. He was told he was supposed to be replaced by a policeman from Mircester, and they had all rushed back up to Simon’s room in time to find Agatha holding a bedpan and Tulloch on the floor.
Epilogue
Agatha Raisin was not a heroine. That was borne firmly in on her by Inspector Wilkes. She was not to talk to the press because it was all sub judice until the court case was over.
In vain did she point out that if it hadn’t been for her intervention, Simon would be dead. As she wearily left police headquarters the following morning, she thought about calling the media and leaking the story but decided against it. A really angry police force might start to interfere in her business, and she needed their goodwill.
All that appeared on television that day and in the newspapers on the following day was that a man had been arrested and charged with the attempted murder of Simon Black.
But it couldn’t be kept quiet. A male nurse told his friend about Agatha hiding in the bathroom and braining Tulloch with a bedpan, so the gossip swirled round and on to the reporting desks of the local newspapers.
Stories about Agatha began to appear in the press. She diplomatically replied that she could not say anything until after the court case.
Five days after her adventure, Bill Wong came to tell her that Tulloch was suing her for grievous bodily harm. ‘He can’t do that!’ wailed Agatha.
‘Get yourself a lawyer. He won’t get away with it, but we have to go through the motions, not to mention the miles and miles of paperwork. How are you feeling?’
‘Relieved. I can get my old life back. Work has been suffering because of all this Tulloch business.’
‘Where’s Charles?’
‘I thought he would be round, but I haven’t heard from him. Roy is due to arrive. He feels he’s missing out on a bit of free publicity. What about you and Alice?’
Bill actually blushed. ‘They don’t like staff getting together. I’d like to ask her out, but she might refuse. She values her job and wouldn’t want to put it in jeopardy.’
‘Look at my cats, crawling all over you!’ exclaimed Agatha. ‘The only signs of affection I get from them are when they want food.’
‘I’m sure they’re fond of you. Is that someone at the door?’
It was Roy, resplendent in a white cotton suit, striped shirt and silk tie. His hair was conventionally cut.
‘Who are you representing?’ asked Agatha. ‘Someone conventional?’
‘No, it’s a new boy band called the Irreproachable. They dress square, so I’m supposed to fit in.’
‘You look good.’
‘I’m off,’ said Bill. ‘See you in court.’
Once he had taken his overnight bag up to the spare room, Roy demanded to know all the details.
‘Let’s sit in the garden,’ said Agatha. ‘The weather’s lovely.’
‘You need a gardener,’ commented Roy. ‘It’s a jungle.’
‘Do you know,’ said Agatha, ‘I’ve been frightened to engage someone in case it should turn out to be Tulloch or someone from the gang. I’ll get someone now.’
‘So tell me all about it.’
How unreal it all seemed now, thought Agatha as she told him what had happened.
When she had finished, Roy asked, ‘How’s Toni bearing up? I mean, I felt sick for ages after my kidnapping, but, I mean, thinking you’re going to get your face burnt off!’
‘She’s been getting counselling and she seems to be all right. It’s hard to tell with Toni. She’d been staying at the vicarage, but she went back to her flat as soon as she heard about Tulloch’s arrest. Do you know Tulloch is suing me for grievous bodily harm?’
‘He won’t get away with it, surely?’
‘It’s up to the Crown Prosecution Service, but in the meantime, I’d better get my lawyer on to it. You know, I’m almost tempted to ask Simon back.’
‘What! To work for you after he was prepared to sneak on your work to Mixden?’
‘Well . . . I know. It’s just he’s such a good detective. You see, I need someone with intuition. We don’t have the same resources as the police.’
‘But what if he works for you and takes a payoff from Mixden? And what about dumping that girl at the altar? What about chickening out of the army?’
‘The girl tricked him by saying she was pregnant. I don’t know that I blame him for not wanting to go back. It seems that Sergeant Sue is highly popular in the regiment, and Simon got really trashed in the local papers for dumping her at the altar. Also, Mixden’s in trouble with the police. They’re trying to charge him with industrial espionage or something, but it’s his word against Simon’s and nobody wants to believe a word Simon says any more.’
‘And what about Toni?’
Agatha looked singularly shifty. ‘I’ll have to ask her.’
Roy rose to his feet. ‘I’ll just run up to the vicarage and have a talk with Mrs Bloxby.’
‘Wait! I’ll come with you.’
‘I’d like a chat with her on my own. She’s better than any therapist.’
‘Oh, go,’ said Agatha huffily.
When Roy had left, Agatha sat miserably staring at the kitchen table. She suddenly felt very much alone. One of her cats, Boswell, jumped on her lap and stared into her face, and Hodge, the other, climbed up her back and draped itself round her neck.
A tear rolled down Agatha’s face. ‘You wretched animals. You care after all!’
Roy was away for an hour. At times Agatha thought of simply leaving and abandoning him for the rest of the day.
Toni’s doorbell rang. Simon’s voice came through the intercom. ‘Can I come up?’
‘I suppose so,’ said Toni reluctantly, and let him in.
‘You still look a bit white,’ she said when Simon walked into the room. ‘When did they let you out?’