The Florist and the Funeral by Ruby Loren

Author:Ruby Loren [Loren, Ruby]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

3

Catching a Killer

An unexpectedly large and urgent private job at work meant that I had to stay away from the allotments for a few days. When I returned, I was pleased to see that my autumn blooms were still looking perky. The watering can left in an unfamiliar spot hinted that my flowers may have had a helping hand from Deirdre. I made a mental note to thank her later.

The same could not be said for Jim’s plot. I went over with a mind to work out which vegetables could be used for the funeral displays, only to find that more sabotage had taken place. This time, it was Jim’s prize marrow that had borne the brunt of the frenzied attacker’s attentions. Chunks of it were strewn across the allotment and the marrow itself showed strange semi-circular marks where its flesh still remained. As I bent down to inspect the damage, I nearly toppled into a hole. After a tense couple of seconds spent gripping a very tough pumpkin plant, I was able to regain my balance with only a few prickly fingers to show for it. This hole was nowhere near the size of the one that Jim had fallen into, but it was still significant. More interesting than its size was the fact that it was new. When I’d last visited the allotment, Jim’s pumpkin patch, with the exception of the dead leaves on one plant, had looked healthy and well-cared for. Now the big orange globes were covered with a light shower of earth. More of the plants had begun to die, I noted, but that wasn't surprising considering the weedkiller tainted soil sample I’d analysed.

I looked into the hole. Roots were visible poking through one of the walls, but beyond that, there was nothing of interest at the bottom. Perhaps the hole digger had found whatever it was they were looking for. I hesitated for a moment and entertained the possibility that someone might be hunting for something concealed beneath Jim’s allotment. Buried treasure? I thought, heavily doubting it was something so interesting. However, Jim’s granddaughter had been very interested in finding out what Jim owned. Could she be the one who was digging the holes, looking for some lost inheritance?

I shook my head, dismissing the idea as nonsensical. Nina had only arrived in the village after Jim’s death, and I certainly couldn’t see her with a spade in hand, digging holes. Someone else could have discovered that Jim had buried something, I reasoned. Jim had enjoyed a pint or several at the local pub on a regular basis and was quite well-known for being a talkative drunk. It had definitely been a contributing factor in why he'd fallen out with half of the village during his lifetime. Perhaps he’d got loose-lipped about some secrets of his own.

I sat back on my haunches and looked at the marrow again. Then I looked at it a little more closely. Finally, I picked the darned thing up and popped it into a shopping bag full of plant cutting tools I’d brought with me.

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