Agatha Raisin and the Witch of Wyckhadden Read Online Free PDF

last, she was fingerprinted and told she was free to go but cautioned not to leave Wyckhadden.
    A police car drove her the short distance to the hotel. She went up to her room and wearily opened the door. The room was in chaos. At first she thought she had been burgled until she realized there was fingerprint dust everywhere. Because of the murder, the forensic team had been sent in immediately. There was a knock at the door. She opened it to find the night porter standing there.
    “I forgot to tell you,” he said, his eyes darting around the room, “that the police took your fur coat away for evidence. Here’s the receipt.”
    “Thanks,” said Agatha.
    “What’s this about a murder?”
    “Do you mind? I want to sleep.” Agatha shut the door in his face.
    She was too tired to take a bath or shower. She creamed off her make-up, undressed and went to bed, but decided to sleep with the lights on in case darkness should bring back the horrors of the night too vividly.
    Agatha was awakened early in the morning by the shrill sound of the telephone. It was a reporter from the Hadderton Gazette . “Can’t talk now,” she said and hung up. Then she phoned the switchboard and told them that no calls were to be put through to her room and then fell asleep again. She drifted in and out of sleep, vaguely aware that from time to time someone was knocking at her door.
    At last she rose about noon and had just bathed and dressed when the phone rang. “I told you not to put any calls through,” she snapped.
    “Mrs Raisin? This is Inspector Jessop. I am downstairs and would like a few words with you.”
    Agatha hung up, checked her make-up carefully and adjusted the blue scarf around her head, then went downstairs.
    “We’ll go into the lounge,” said Jimmy. “It’s empty at the moment.”
    “No police sidekick?” said Agatha. “Is this a friendly call?”
    “Hardly.”
    They walked into the lounge and sat down in huge armchairs by the long windows. On a coffee-table in front of them were spread the day’s papers. “Nothing in the press yet,” said Jimmy. “Too late for them.”
    “When did she die?” asked Agatha. “I mean, the other residents will tell you I was in the hotel all evening.”
    “We’re waiting for the report. It is very hard to pinpoint the actual time of any death.”
    “Have you found out how someone could have got into my room and slashed my coat?”
    “No, it could have been a previous resident. We’re checking the maids. Of course, there’s a passkey. About last night, let’s start again now you are rested. Why should you think a woman whom you had consulted about hair tonic should have slashed your coat, all because of a few off remarks?”
    “I was rattled by the vandalism. I was furious. Oh, I may as well tell you the truth. I didn’t like the way you went off me at that dance after I told you I was an amateur detective. I wanted to show you what I could do.”
    “That’s madness,” said Jimmy coldly. “I wouldn’t put it past you to bump off someone or slash your own coat. Women of your age who fancy themselves as amateur detectives will sometimes do anything to get publicity.”
    “I do need a lawyer. If there was a witness to this conversation I would sue you,” shouted Agatha.
    “You must admit it looks odd. We had a murder in Wyckhadden twelve years ago and that’s it. You arrive, and suddenly we have two incidents connected to you.”
    “I am not a freak and I am not mad,” said Agatha in a thin voice. “Did you come here for the sole purpose of insulting me?”
    He passed a large hand over his face.
    “I’m so tired I don’t know what to think. But you’re right. My remarks were unprofessional and out of order.” He leaned behind him and pressed a bell on the wall. “I’ll get us a drink.”
    “I haven’t had breakfast yet.”
    The manager, Mr Martin, came bustling up. “Inspector, the press are outside and are troubling our guests. Could you ask them