Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist Read Online Free PDF Page A

was where they were to have spent their honeymoon. Mehmet led her over to the map again. He said that if she went out on the Nicosia Road past the Onar Village Hotel, which she would see on her right, and took the next road down to the left, the villa would be the fourth one down that road on the left.
    Agatha decided to wait until that evening, when she was bathed and refreshed.
    She worked hard on her appearance, washing and brushing her hair until it shone, covering her red face with a flattering shade of foundation cream. She put on a simple silk shift of a gold colour, sprayed herself with Yves Saint Laurent's Champagne, and then went out into the dark, still, hot evening, to the car.
    Now that she felt she was so close she was almost reluctant to go, to face possible rejection.
    She turned off the Nicosia Road and bumped down over potholes, rounded a corner and started counting the villas and parked outside the fourth. It was shielded from the road by a tall hedge of mimosa.
    Agatha pushed opened the gate and walked in. She knocked at the door and waited. No reply.
    She walked around the side of the house and saw a rented car parked there. He must be home. She walked onto a broad terrace. The large plate-glass windows were uncurtained and a pool of light was spilling out onto the terrace.
    She looked in. James was sitting at a rickety table typing on a laptop computer. There was more grey in his hair, she noticed with a pang, and the lines at either side of his mouth seemed deeper.
    Almost timidly, she rapped on the glass.
    Agatha Raisin and James Lacey stared at each other for a long moment.
    Then he rose to his feet and slid back the window.
    "Good evening, Agatha," he said. "Come in."
    No exclamations of surprise or delight. No welcome.
    Agatha looked around. It was a large living-room with an uncarpeted floor. Apart from the table and chair, there were a battered sofa and two armchairs, heavy with tarnished gilt on the woodwork, the kind of furniture called "Loo Kanz" in the Middle East.
    "Drink?" he asked. "I don't have any ice. The fridge isn't working."
    She followed him into a narrow kitchen. She saw why the fridge wasn't working. There was no plug on it. She opened the fridge door. It was filthy, encrusted with old food.
    "Hardly luxury quarters," said Agatha. "Looks like a rip-off."
    "It is," said James, pouring two glasses of wine. "My old fixer, Mustafa, used to be on top form. Fix anything for me in the old days--accommodation, furniture, air flights--anything. I paid a month in advance for this place, too. I keep trying to get him on the phone but he's always busy."
    "Where is he?"
    "He owns some hotel called the Great Eastern in Nicosia. I'm going there tomorrow to ask him what he thinks he's playing at. There aren't even any sheets on the bed, just old curtains."
    "How long have you been here?"
    "Two weeks."
    "I'm surprised you put up with it this long! Not like you."
    "I just wanted peace and quiet. Where are you staying?"
    "The Dome."
    "Nice. I haven't even got a phone. I have to use the phone up at the Onar Village Hotel. I asked the phone company to fix it up but they said they couldn't do that until Mustafa paid the previous bill, and so far he hasn't done that. Perhaps he's ill. He was a great fellow in the old days. Bit of a rogue, but do anything for anyone."
    "He's done you, that's for sure," said Agatha sourly. She wanted to talk to him about why he had left without seeing her but she realized he was putting up that old force field of his which repelled any intimate discussions.
    "How long are you staying?" he asked.
    "I don't know," said Agatha, almost hating him. She took a gulp of her wine.
    "Well, if you're doing nothing tomorrow, you may as well come to Nicosia with me and meet Mustafa. Yes, the more I think about it, the more I'm sure he's ill."
    Agatha's heart rose. At least he wanted to see her again.
    "Have you eaten?" she asked.
    "Not yet."
    "I'll stand you dinner."
    "All right.