“The tenants are vital to holding the estate together, but most of the farmers and small businesses are struggling right now. They can’t afford the huge rent increases you want. For some, a modest increase might be manageable, but you can’t burden them with unreasonable rent hikes.”
“Don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do!” hissed Mary, stabbing a finger in Charles’s direction. “Unreasonable? You haven’t imposed a reasonable increase for years. If they can’t pay up, they can move out!”
“Some of these people have been here for generations. I grew up with them—I won’t let you kick them out. You will ruin the estate.”
“Ruin the estate? I will do whatever the hell I like with the estate! Get in my way and I will ruin you!”
Charles watched his young wife march out of the library and slam the door behind her. He let out a low groan and sat back in his chair. She was passionate about making money. She was passionate about show-jumping with her bloody horses. If only she had brought some of that passion into the bedroom. Their wedding night had not been what one would call an unqualified success. He had hoped that sleeping together would mellow her aggressive nature, but all she had done was complain that he was hurting her. That was particularly upsetting as Charles had always prided himself on being a gentle and sensitive lover. Perhaps things would change when they were on honeymoon.
His thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, and Gustav entered.
“Bags are packed for your package holiday to the Brown-Field bungalow,” he announced.
“It’s not a package holiday, Gustav,” said Charles, “it’s our honeymoon. And it’s a villa near Marbella, not a bungalow.”
“Does it have an upstairs?”
“No.”
“Then it’s a bungalow.”
“I wish you would try to be a bit more accommodating towards these people, Gustav. They are going to be a permanent feature around here, not just weekend guests.”
“You need to see this.” Gustav spoke quietly as he approached the desk. He reached furtively into an inside jacket pocket and handed Charles a folded sheet of paper. Charles’s eyes widened as he scanned the document.
“Where did you get this?” he gasped.
“Where’d you think? Off her desk.”
“The bitch! I’ll kill her! I swear it—I’ll kill her!”
Chapter Three
“He had calmed down a bit by the time I took them to the airport this morning, but it doesn’t bode well for a successful honeymoon, does it?”
“Your timing was pretty poor, Gustav,” said Agatha, holding her phone in one hand while stroking Hodge with the other. She was sitting in the sunshine in her back garden, the cat curled up in her lap. Boswell was crouched on the grass staring intently at nothing at all in the shadows beneath a hydrangea. “Charles has been so stressed that it might have been kinder at least to give him a chance to relax while he’s away. You could have waited.”
“Would you have waited?”
“I might have,” Agatha lied.
“Bullshit,” Gustav cursed. “Whose side are you on? This is a dirty war and we have to fight dirty.”
“All right,” said Agatha. “I need to see this document. Can you photograph it with your phone and send it to me?”
“Already done,” said Gustav and hung up.
Agatha lifted Hodge off her lap and set him down on the grass beside Boswell. He joined in the staring for a moment, then swiped the other cat on the head with a paw before scampering off with Boswell hot on his heels. Agatha stared at her phone. Gadgets and electronic gizmos were not her strong suit, but she was sure she could retrieve Gustav’s photo if she just thought about it for a second or two.
“Not working today?” James’s head appeared above the hedge between the gardens.
“Late start,” Agatha explained. “Toni’s coming to pick me up and we’re going to talk to a woman who thinks she has a poltergeist.”
“Spooky.” James smiled. “But you have to take these things seriously around here. There are plenty of locals who still believe in witches, fairies and ghosts.”
“I know,” Agatha agreed. “I’ve come across quite a few of them. James, would you be a sweetheart and help me with this wretched phone?”
“Of course. Why don’t you come round? I’ve just made a fresh pot of coffee.”
They sat together drinking coffee at a small table in James’s neat garden. James tapped and swiped at Agatha’s phone and then handed it back to her.
“The document is there on your screen. Just tap to open it,” he said. “The text will be quite small but you should be able to read it.”
“Thank you, James,” said Agatha. “You know, I’ve been thinking about what we were saying the other night. About us being too hasty about the divorce.”
“I have, too,” James admitted, “and I came to the conclusion that when we got married I was an old bachelor, set in my ways, maybe not prepared for the changes that marriage would bring. In your own way, perhaps you were too.”
“I think you’re right,” said Agatha, “apart from the ‘old’ bit. So that’s something else we agree on—something else we have in common.”
She looked at her phone and tapped the icon on the screen. The document that opened was headed “Barfield House Luxury Hotel and Spa.” She stared at it, her mouth set in a grimace.
“Are you all right, Aggie?” asked James. “Bad news?”
A car horn sounded in the street.
“That must be Toni,” said Agatha, getting to her feet. “I have to go.”
“Well don’t let the ghosties scare you too much,” he joked, and stooped to give her a peck on the cheek. They embraced, holding each other in a hug for a heartbeat or two, then Agatha backed away and smiled.
“Let’s talk more later,” she said.
“Yes,” said James. “Let’s do that.”
* * *
Toni was sitting waiting behind the wheel of her little car when Agatha jumped into the passenger seat. The windows were open and Toni was wearing a flower-patterned summer dress and sunglasses. Her arms were bare.
Agatha smoothed the skirt of her own forest-green suit, settling the hem just above her knee. She had always had good legs and knew how best to show them off with skirts and heels that worked together to flatter their shape. Her concession to the warm spell of weather had been to abandon tights, shave her legs with particular care and apply a light touch of fake tan—not enough to imply a leisurely fortnight spent lazing in the Mediterranean sun, but just sufficient to banish the pallid winter hue. Toni clearly knew nothing about preparing for the seasons. She had jumped into that dress as soon as the sun came out, but because she was naturally slim and pretty, anything she wore looked great. Agatha pursed her lips and gave her a sideways look.
“That outfit’s a bit summery, isn’t it?” she said.
“Do you think so?” said Toni. “It’s just that the weather has been so warm. I can dash home for something else if you like, but I felt like I wanted something different. I needed a change.”