Agatha Raisin and the Love from Hell

those dating agencies,’ said Bill. ‘You know, one of the good ones, where they try to match up people.’
    ‘Thanks, Bill. But right now I feel like steering clear of involvements.’
    After Bill had left, Agatha fed her cats and was about to go along to the vicarage when the doorbell rang.
    When she answered it, she stepped back a little and tried to wipe the look of dismay off her face. Jimmy Jessop and his wife, Gladwyn, stood on the doorstep. ‘We were touring the Cotswolds,’ said Jimmy, ‘and I found I still had your home address. So I said to Gladwyn, “Agatha will be thrilled to see us.”’
    Gladwyn gave Agatha a small, thin smile.
    ‘Come in,’ said Agatha reluctantly. ‘Can I offer you lunch?’
    ‘No, we had some in a pub.’
    ‘We only have a few minutes,’ said Gladwyn. ‘What a quaint little cottage you do have. Me, I like modern. Still, it takes all sorts.’
    ‘Where is your baby?’ asked Agatha.
    ‘My mum’s looking after him.’
    ‘I heard they got someone for that murder,’ said Jimmy. ‘You didn’t have anything to do with finding out who did it, did you?’
    ‘I did indeed,’ said Agatha, glad of an opportunity to show off. She outlined how she had discovered that Megan was the culprit while Gladwyn fidgeted and yawned.
    ‘That’s fascinating,’ said Jimmy when she had finished. ‘But what about your husband?’
    ‘Oh, he turned up,’ said Agatha airily.
    ‘Everything all right?’
    ‘Marvellous,’ said Agatha. ‘We’re a very happy couple.’
    ‘So where is he?’ asked Gladwyn, her eyes boring into Agatha’s.
    ‘Over in France on business. He’ll be back soon.’
    ‘Mrs Raisin?’ called Mrs Bloxby’s voice. She came into the kitchen. ‘You left the front door open, so I just walked in. I met Bill Wong and heard the news.’
    Agatha shot her a warning look, but Mrs Bloxby was smiling at Jimmy and Gladwyn. ‘I’m so glad James is alive and well. But going to be a monk! And you’re getting a divorce.’
    Gladwyn was smiling now.
    ‘This is Mr and Mrs Jessop,’ said Agatha hurriedly. ‘Gladwyn, Jimmy, Mrs Bloxby. They’re just leaving.’
    ‘Oh, no,’ said Gladwyn, settling back in her chair. ‘I want to hear all about how you can have a marvellous marriage with a monk.’
    But Jimmy saw the look on Agatha’s face and stood up and helped a reluctant Gladwyn out of her chair. ‘I won’t take up any more of your time, Agatha. No. We can see our way out.’
    Agatha sat down and put her head in her hands. She heard the outside door slam and then a high cackle of laughter from Gladwyn out on the road.
    ‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Mrs Bloxby. ‘I just blurted it out without thinking. Was that your police inspector?’
    ‘Yes, and I told his dreadful wife that me and James were happily married and that he was away on business in France. Never mind.’
    ‘So tell me all about it.’
    Agatha felt she had told the story so many times that her voice was beginning to echo in her ears. When she had finished, Mrs Bloxby said, ‘How dreadful for you.’
    ‘You mean, Melissa trying to shoot me?’
    ‘No, James being a monk.’
    ‘I thought you would approve. “Nearer my God to thee”, and all that.’
    ‘I’m glad he is well and alive. But finding that he plans to enter the monastery must have come as a great shock to you.’
    ‘I think I’ve gone through every emotion from grief to anger, but it’s all over now. Perhaps it would have been easier for me if he had died.’
    ‘Oh, I don’t think so. Before you came to live here, there was a woman in the village who adored her husband. He was actually a rather nasty man. When he died, she elevated him to sainthood and wasted lots of money on mediums trying to get in touch with him. Now if he had lived – they had not been married long – then she would have found out what sort of man he was. You see, when one of the nearest and dearest dies, the one left behind feels irrationally guilty and remembers all the nice things about the dead person and blames themselves for not having been nicer, better, kinder. And you say James is coming back? Good. That will give you some much-needed time to accustom yourself to the idea of divorce.’
    ‘I wouldn’t have thought a divorced man could become a monk,’ said Agatha.
    ‘You weren’t married in the Catholic Church, so possibly it doesn’t count.’
    ‘Maybe. Maybe he won’t tell them. I’m going to start planning my life, figure out what