Seeds of Murder by Rosie Sandler

Author:Rosie Sandler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Embla
Published: 2023-01-07T00:00:00+00:00

16

‘I specifically said not to mention it to Mimi,’ says Mrs Patel.

I’ve just climbed down from the van at Villa Splendida where she was standing waiting for me; she’s clearly furious.

‘I felt she had a right to know,’ I say, walking around to the passenger side, then having second thoughts about letting Mouse out – he’s probably better where he is for now.

‘You felt? You felt?’

‘Look, if the pieces of cloth are from Mimi’s dead son’s shirt, they belong to her.’

‘Well, it’s too late now, anyway,’ she says.

‘Yes, it is too late,’ I say. ‘Anyway, she seemed pleased I’d come to her.’

‘Pleased? She called me last night. She was beside herself. She’d only just started to sleep properly through the night after years of insomnia and nightmares.’ She glares at me. ‘It’s on you if she has to go back to taking sleeping tablets.’

‘Well, maybe you can explain what’s so important about those clothing scraps. Do they have something to do with how Alfie died?’

Mrs Patel glares at me. She purses her glossy lips in an immaculately made-up face. With a tight white dress that shows off her curves and high-maintenance tan, she looks like she’s about to take a limousine to a red-carpet event, rather than spend time reprimanding her groundskeeper.

‘None of your business,’ she says at last. ‘I’d appreciate it if you could focus and get on with your work. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but you’re the gardener, not the host of The Stephanie Kyle Show.’ She smiles, pleased with her wordplay.

‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Where do you want me?’

‘Well, you can deal with the camera situation, for a start.’

‘The camera situation?’

‘You’ll see when you get there.’ She waves a hand towards the woodland area.

‘And after that?’

‘The top lawn could use a mowing. Francis will show you where we keep the ride-on, as he says you used your own push mower last time. And after that, it’s up to you.’

Up to me? Did she really say that? I realise my mouth is gaping, and close it. ‘Right. Great.’

She strides away, and I see her take a seat on a bench overlooking the fabulous views. She has a bottle of red wine beside her, and a large glass. It’s not yet nine o’clock. I wonder if it was her car I witnessed driving at high speed to The Chimneys last night.

I head into the woodland and over to the hornbeam. For a moment, I think I’ve made a mistake: the wrong tree; the wrong garden. But no: this is definitely the right place – and, when I peer up the trunk, the camera is missing.

I glance around, as if it might have removed itself from the bracket and gone for a walk. In the end – and for no reason I can rationalise – I fetch my ladder from the van. When I climb up to the bracket, I find a note taped there, with ‘Sherry’ written on the front in black cursive script. Removing it carefully and placing it in my pocket, I climb back down and return the steps to the van.

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