Trowel and Error (English Cottage Garden Mysteries ~ Book 4) (The English Cottage Garden Mysteries) by H.Y. Hanna

Author:H.Y. Hanna [Hanna, H.Y.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Wisheart Press
Published: 2020-05-14T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

There was another crash. Stuart rushed across the gallery to the corridor with Poppy following at his heels. The sound seemed to have come from Nowak’s study and they burst into the room, then faltered to a stop at the scene in front of them.

Bertie was grappling wildly with CLARA in front of the fireplace, in a tangle of spinning wheels and burgeoning brushes and bristles. The robot had somehow climbed into the chimney and was now industriously sweeping one arm across the floor of the hearth. An enormous suction nozzle was attached to the end of the arm and it was sucking up all dirt and ashes in the fireplace. The only problem was, the suction was so strong that everything else in the room was getting caught up in the air flow as well: Post-It notes, documents, paperclips, rubber bands, shredded paper, mailing labels, and postage stamps were whirling around the room in a miniature tornado, twisting and spinning towards the robot… Poppy even felt her hair lifting from her head and being tugged towards CLARA.

She rushed across to Bertie and shouted above the roar of the vacuum, “Bertie! What have you done?”

“Oh, not to worry. Not to worry, my dear,” said the old inventor, pushing buttons and twiddling knobs on the robot’s torso. “Just needs a slight adjustment…”

“Turn her off, Bertie—turn her off!”

To her relief, the robot suddenly ceased and the vacuum suction died. The sudden silence in the room was deafening. Poppy turned around to see Stuart standing by the door, open-mouthed. His hair was standing on end and his tie had been whipped up and over his shoulders. Bits of paper floated down around them.

“What on earth…?” A woman appeared suddenly in the doorway behind Stuart.

Poppy recognised her as the glamorous woman she had seen chasing Joe Fabbri on the night of the party, except that Lena Nowak looked very different now. Instead of a luxe velvet cocktail dress and flamboyant jewellery, she wore an elegant cream trouser suit and designer heels. She stepped into the room, arms akimbo, and surveyed the mess. Where Nowak was all diffidence and affability, with such a low-key manner that no one would have expected him to be one of the most powerful and successful men in Britain, his wife was the complete opposite. She radiated a nervous energy and looked like a power executive on the warpath, ready to give any hapless employee a tongue-lashing.

“What’s going on here?” she demanded.

Bertie rushed towards her and grabbed her hand, pumping it up and down. “Ah! Mrs Nowak, I presume? I am Dr Bertram Noble.”

“Oh. Right. Er… how do you do,” said Lena Nowak, peeling off a Post-It note which had floated down and stuck on her forehead.

“I’m delighted that you are interested in my inventions,” continued Bertie. “I have brought several designs to show you, but I have also brought CLARA, who is my finest creation! She will be able to show you the full extent of her functions and capabilities.

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