Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden

As she drove into Wyckhadden past neat little villas and bungalows on the outskirts, she looked at them with new eyes. She could live a life in one of those, mowing the lawn and polishing the car.

She drove straight to the Garden Hotel. The weather was warm on the beach and the kiosks in the pier were open. The sea, which had looked so threatening in the winter, was tamed into calm deep blue. A ship puffed along the line of the horizon, looking like a child's toy.

In the hotel, there was now a glamorous receptionist behind the desk and guests were coming and going.

The receptionist smiled and said Agatha was lucky. They had received a cancellation that morning. There was a smart young foreign porter in new hotel livery to carry her bag up to her room. The old hotel had an air of life and prosperity. Agatha wondered whether Harry, Jennifer and Mary were still in residence or if the big influx of new guests had driven them away. But then, they had said they were used to visitors.

Agatha picked up the phone and got through to the police station. "Wyckhadden police" came the voice of the desk sergeant. "I would like to speak to Inspector Jessop," said Agatha.

"Yes. May I ask who's calling?"

"Agatha Raisin."

"He's out on a case," said the desk sergeant sharply.

"When is he due back?"

"We don't know. Not for a long time."

"I am staying at the Garden Hotel. Would you ask him to phone me?"

"If I see him," said the desk sergeant ungraciously and replaced the receiver.

She changed into the new linen suit and blouse and walked down to the hall. She asked for Mr. Martin.

Mr. Martin came out of his office and looked at her like the Ancient Mariner spotting the albatross. "Oh, dear ... I mean, how nice to see you again."

"I wondered if Miss Stobbs, Miss Dulsey and Mr. Berry were still in residence."

"Yes, they are." He looked at the line of keys behind the desk. "They all appear to be out at the moment. Er, will you be staying long?"

"A couple of days," said Agatha.

Agatha went out into the sunshine and walked along the pier. She wished she had brought her coat, for although the sun was warm, the sea breeze was somewhat chilly. She then saw that among the souvenir kiosks, there was a new booth: MADAM MYSTIC, FORTUNE-TELLER.

May as well pass the time until I figure out what to do, thought Agatha.

Madam Mystic was dressed in a long black robe and wore a turban on her head.

"Sit down," she said. "Your fortune will cost you ten pounds."

"Right."

"Money now."

Agatha paid over a ten-pound note.

"Let me see your hands," said Madam Mystic.

Agatha held out her hands. "You are a healthy, determined woman with a lot of success and money in her life, but not love."

"And will I get any?" asked Agatha, wondering, why did I come to this charlatan?

"Perhaps, but you must go to look for it. You live in a small place where nothing happens."

That's what you think, thought Agatha.

"The love of your life is in Norfolk. He is tall with fair hair. He is a widower. You must go in search of him."

"Norfolk's a big county. Where? North, south, east or west?"

"You drive to Norfolk and something will guide you."

She fell silent.

"Anything else?"

"You must not stay in Wyckhadden. Forget what brought you here and go home."

"What? Not to Norfolk?"

"You will go there eventually. I cannot see any more."

I must stop wasting money, Agatha chided herself. She walked out into the sunshine.

And there she saw Harry Berry, leaning on the rail of the pier watching some anglers.

Agatha went up to him. "Hullo, Harry."

He turned round. "Oh, it's you," he said. "What brings you back?"

"I was at a loose end. I thought I would look up Jimmy Jessop."

Harry eyes shone briefly with amusement.

"The hotel seems to be doing well," said Agatha.

"It's not the same place. First, we were full of press, then ghouls wanting to see the room where Daisy fell from the window, then word got around about the meals being sumptious, and all sorts of tourists started coming."

"How are Jennifer and Mary?"

"Fine, but we're all thinking of moving somewhere quieter."

"Was it a great shock to learn that Daisy was a murderess?"

Harry turned back and stared down at the water. "Not really."

"What! Never tell me you knew all along."

"It was just a feeling," said Harry. "The colonel often said he thought it was Daisy."

"What! I thought none of you ever talked about the murder."

"Well, we did, when you weren't around."

So much for feeling part of the group, thought Agatha bitterly. "Why was I such an outsider that nothing was mentioned to me?"

"We thought you might make a fuss, and we don't like fuss."

"So why didn't you go to the police?"

"Why? We could've been wrong and Daisy was one of us."

Agatha looked at him. "That snow-woman," she said slowly. "You tried to make it as much like Francie as possible in the hope that Daisy might betray herself."

"Could have been something like that. It's over now, Poor Daisy."

"Poor Daisy. She murdered two women."

"They were murderees. If it hadn't been Daisy it would have been someone else."