Agatha Raisin and the Terrible Tourist Read Online Free PDF

Where?"
    "I don't know the restaurants. I'd like somewhere with authentic Turkish cooking."
    "I know a place at Zeytinlik. Called the Ottoman House."
    "Where's that?"
    "Just outside Kyrenia. You turn off before you get to the Jasmine Court Hotel."
    "I'll drive, if you like," said Agatha.
    "No, we'll take both cars because you'll be going back to the hotel afterwards."
    So much for all my dreams of a hot night of passion, thought Agatha, but still, it's a start.
    The Ottoman House Restaurant was in a garden, quiet and serene, candle-light, tinkling fountain. The proprietors, Emine and Altay, gave James a warm welcome. The food was excellent and Agatha amused James with her stories of the terrible tourists on the yacht.
    "The thing I can't understand," said Agatha as they worked their way through an enormous meze of little dishes of crushed walnuts, hummus, village bread, pita bread, local sausages, olives and what seemed like a hundred other delicacies, "is why that unlikely sixsome got together. Olivia obviously thinks Rose is beneath her."
    He laughed. "I know what you're doing. You're seeing murder already."
    "Well, it's odd."
    "So how's Carsely anyway?"
    "The same as ever. Sleepy and quiet. I've left my cats with Doris Simpson." Doris was Agatha's cleaner. "How's the book going?"
    James, Agatha knew, was working on a military history. "Not very well," said James. "I try to start early in the mornings and do some more in the evenings, but it's so hot. It's the humidity, too. Cyprus never used to be so hot. I used to think all those scare stories about global warming were simply...well...scare stories, but now I'm not so sure. And there's a chronic shortage of water on the island."
    He began to talk about Cyprus in his cool, measured voice, and Agatha hungrily studied his face, looking in vain for some sign of affection. Why on earth hadn't she the courage to say something...anything? Why couldn't she ask him outright if he would rather she left Cyprus?
    At last the meal was over. James insisted on paying.
    "I'll never get used to these wads and wads of lira," said Agatha, watching him count out a pile of notes.
    "It's cheap for us British because of the exchange rate," said James, "but not much fun for the locals."
    They walked out to their cars. Agatha put her face up to be kissed and he pecked her on the cheek. Despite the heat of the evening, his lips were cool and passionless. Not even a frisson, thought Agatha miserably.
    "What time tomorrow?" she asked.
    "I'll call for you at ten o'clock."
    Agatha got into the car and drove back to her hotel. There was a wedding reception taking place in the hotel lounge: music, dancing, bride and groom, mothers, fathers, assorted relatives. The bride was very beautiful and her face shone with happiness. Agatha stood in the doorway, watching. She felt a wave of self-pity engulfing her. There had been no white wedding for Agatha Raisin, just a brief ceremony in a registry office in London when Jimmy Raisin had married her. Now, there never would be. She was too old to go to any altar in white. A plump little Turkish woman saw her standing there and smiled and beckoned her into the room, but Agatha shook her head sadly and walked away.
    There was the outing with James to look forward to, but right at that moment she could not. His coldness, his matter-of-fact coldness, had quenched all her rosy dreams. Her pursuit of him to this island now seemed pushy and vulgar.
    She went into her room and opened up the windows and shutters and stepped out onto the balcony. Out over the sea in the direction of Turkey, a long flash of lightning stabbed down over the heaving sea, and thunder rumbled. A damp fresh breeze struck her cheek. She leaned on the railing of the balcony and watched the approach of the storm, standing there until the first large warm raindrops struck her cheek before retreating into her room. All night long the thunder crashed and rolled as she tossed and turned in bed. But at