There Goes The Bride by M.C. Beaton

There was over two hundred thousand pounds in the account. She’s gone, vanished.’ A tear ran down Toni’s cheek.
    ‘Where is Harry?’
    ‘Said he was going back to Cambridge to see if he could resume his studies. I was frightened to ask you, then I saw your ad.’
    ‘Of course you can have your job back, and welcome.’
    ‘I trusted Betty,’ wailed Toni.
    ‘Let’s go for a drink and we’ll work out what to do,’ said Agatha. ‘Was it just the money? Did she pinch anything else out of the office?’
    ‘A couple of cameras and a telephoto lens.’
    ‘Bitch. Let’s go.’
    In a corner of The George pub, Agatha, after she had fetched drinks from the bar, pulled out a notebook and pen from her capacious handbag. ‘Let me see,’ she began. ‘Was the office rented?’
    ‘Yes. Rent paid. Oh, I should have guessed something. The estate agency phoned up two months ago and said the rent was in arrears. Betty turned very red but said she would go round and pay them immediately. I should have suspected something even then.’
    ‘Now, office equipment, computers and stuff?’
    ‘Still there.’
    ‘We’ll sell that and you continue with outstanding cases and collect the money for any you solve.’
    Charles came and joined them. ‘Saw your car outside,’ he said cheerfully.
    ‘Buy your own drink,’ said Agatha huffily. She had not forgiven him for running away from Hewes.
    Charles shortly returned carrying a half of lager. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked. ‘Toni, you look as if you’ve been crying.’
    In a sad little voice, Toni described what had happened.
    When she had finished, Agatha surveyed Charles’s well-tailored figure. ‘You’ve stayed with me a lot, haven’t you, Charles?’
    ‘Yes, dear.’
    ‘You have eaten my food, haven’t you?’
    ‘If you can call microwaved curries food, yes.’
    ‘So you owe me.’ Agatha’s bearlike eyes bored into his face.
    ‘My dear Aggie, if you want to have sex with me, you only have to ask.’
    ‘Don’t be flippant. I’ve got a lot of work and so has Toni. I’ve got this pub business to follow through.’
    ‘Saw you on the box. Real tub-thumping perfor—’
    ‘I want you to find Betty Talent.’
    ‘But Toni’s got the police on to it.’
    ‘They won’t do much. Oh, have you a photo?’
    Toni had a folder and produced one. ‘I gave the rest to Bill.’
    Betty Talent was undoubtedly a plain-looking girl with a sallow face and dark brown hair pulled back in a knot.
    ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Charles. ‘Give me her address. I’ll start there.’
    But instead of going straight to Betty Talent’s address, Charles waited until the following morning and went to see James Lacey.
    After James had welcomed him, Charles explained that Agatha had bulldozed him into finding the missing Betty Talent, and recounted the story of how Betty had absconded with the money.
    ‘You could always have said no,’ James pointed out.
    ‘To Agatha? You must be joking. Anyway, that’s why I’m here.’
    ‘I can’t see –’
    ‘You can pick locks, can’t you?’
    ‘Yes, but –’
    ‘Then get your jacket. We’re off to break into Betty’s flat.’
    The flat was over a grocer’s shop in Berry’s Wynd, one of the narrow medieval streets behind the abbey.
    ‘If the street door is locked, I can’t stand in broad daylight picking the lock,’ complained James.
    ‘We won’t know until we try it,’ said Charles. ‘Come on.’
    They crossed the street. Charles turned the handle of the front door. It swung open.
    ‘See,’ he said. ‘Faint heart never won successful burglary.’
    ‘What if there’s more than two flats?’ whispered James.
    ‘It’s just a little Pakistani grocer’s,’ muttered Charles impatiently as they mounted the stairs. ‘See! One flat. I’ll knock first.’
    He knocked very loudly. ‘There’s a bell,’ said James.
    Charles leaned on it. No reply.
    ‘Okay,’ said Charles. ‘Get to work.’
    James pulled out a set of