The Midnight Garden: Paranormal Women's Fiction Mystery (Midlife Mysteries Book 4) by H.P. Mallory

Author:H.P. Mallory [Mallory, H.P.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-22T23:00:00+00:00

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As we walked up the winding path, the wind rustled through the trees, and the leaves whispered like a thousand tiny voices. I could feel a sense of urgency pressing down upon me, prodding me to solve a mystery that for all intents and purposes, was impossible to solve. Truly, I didn’t even know the reason why I’d come here. Did I expect a spirit to simply appear and tell me what had happened to Mrs. Whitmore? Blast it! I didn’t know what I expected. One thing I hadn’t expected, though, was seeing Philippa.

The American whirlwind was now pacing back and forth, frowning as she observed the area before us. We’d reached a tall wrought-iron gate covered in ivy, at the far end of the easternmost side of the graveyard. But rather than finding a strange garden, all we saw was Swain’s Lane, a narrow thoroughfare that meandered through the immediate neighborhood. Carriages and pedestrians traversed the cobbled street—a scene far from the spiritual one Philippa clearly expected to find.

“Are you going to tell me what we’re doing here, Philippa?” I asked, my voice indicating my growing irritation. In general, I was a very busy man. Numerous cases came across my desk every blood day of the week—truly, I hadn’t even had time for this silly errand and now my reduced time was being wasted in the most exasperating of manners.

Philippa stopped her pacing abruptly, a puzzled frown creasing her brow as she turned to face me.

“Strange,” she murmured, “the garden should be right here.”

I peered around myself to see more tombstones in the fog. “Clearly, there is no garden here.”

“Indeed,” she agreed, her expression suddenly serious as she shook her head and seemed completely baffled by what she saw, or didn’t see. “Perhaps...”

“Perhaps what?”

“Perhaps we should check the southern end of the cemetery.”

I exhaled a frustrated sigh. “Very well.”

But when we reached the southernmost portion of the graveyard, we found ourselves facing Waterlow Park. Although it was certainly a picturesque space with its manicured gardens, shimmering ponds, and winding paths, it was in no way an enchanted garden.

I could not say I was surprised when Philippa then posed the idea of visiting the westernmost portion of the graveyard, where we faced Swain’s Lane once again, curving around the perimeter of the hallowed grounds. Philippa led the way through the labyrinthine paths of the cemetery, and an eerie stillness seemed to envelop us.

Unsurprisingly, when we arrived at the northernmost portion of Highgate, we reached the serene expanse of Egyptian Avenue. Although it was one of the most striking features of Highgate Cemetery, as remarkable as the Circle of Lebanon (a ring of massive, towering cedar trees), neither served as the entrance to a ghostly garden.

“Do you suppose we should take another loop around the cemetery?” I asked facetiously with a frown.

Philippa shook her head and exhaled the breath she was holding. “It seems the magical garden does not want to be found today. How very curious...”

“Perhaps the reason for that

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