Best-Laid Plants

by Marty Wingate

  “You didn’t notice anything, did you?” Pru asked him. “Anything unusual—when you saw Mr. Bede early yesterday morning?”

  “I was not here early, as I have already explained. I came later than my usual time, but I knew Coral looked in on him each morning.”

  “Yes, sorry, I’d forgotten.”

  The doctor inhaled deeply, held it, and expelled his breath in a rush. “Poisoned, poor man. Deliberate? This sort of thing could’ve been given to him innocently, I suppose. Herbal cure. Either way, it’s an offense against modern medicine.”

  Pru considered herbal medicine—upon which most modern medicine was based—to be distinct from deliberate poisoning, but Cherry seemed to lump them together.

  “Are you saying Mr. Bede took herbal medicine in addition to his prescriptions? A home remedy?”

  “Well, I hope to God he didn’t, but I wouldn’t put it past someone to persuade him to try.”

  “I don’t know if aconite was involved, but it wouldn’t explain that statue, would it?” Pru asked.

  “No, I suppose not,” Cherry said. “What does Christopher make of that? Perhaps a strong young man stepped in to assist?”

  A young man—an oblique reference to Ger Crombie? Cherry had already fingered Ger for loitering in the lane.

  “I know it’s easy for us to point fingers,” she replied, “but police must be careful about throwing accusations around with no evidence.”

  One of the PCs stuck his head round the corner.

  “Sorry, Ms. Parke. There’s a woman at the drive asking for Inspector Pearse, and when I said he wasn’t here, she asked for you. Ms. Cynthia Mouser.”

  Dr. Cherrystone grunted. “Pru, I’ll be on my way—but I’ll rely on you to let me know if Coral needs me.”

  “Yes,” Pru said. “Of course.” Cherry went back the way he came, down the Thyme Walk. Pru watched him, her feet too heavy to move in the direction of the drive until the PC coughed. “Right—on my way.”

  Not only the compliant companionship of primrose and viola, but also sharp contrast—the narrow stems of Verbena bonariensis shooting their way through pillows of Geranium Brookside. This is a garden. BB

  Chapter 18

  Pru walked to the gate and stopped, peeking round its edge to see Cynthia waiting at the lane on the other side of the police tape. When Pru’s phone rang, she dived for it, grateful for the delay. It was Christopher and she had news for him.

  “Hello. I think I’ve found the spot where the monkshood was dug from—it’s near the bridge at the Wild Garden.”

  “Well done,” he replied. “Will you tell Mills where it is, and she’ll take it from there? Wait—you weren’t out there alone, were you?”

  “For about three minutes—it’s like Grand Central Station here. Are you on your way?”

  “I’ve been delayed,” he began, and she heard the strain in his voice. “I’m only down in one of Bram’s fields, but there’s been a problem.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Someone’s destroyed the sett—or what we thought might be one. Bram rang, and I told her I’d stop by. Michael will be over soon, and he’ll take it from there. I’m trying to locate Ger Crombie—Bram’s own tractor was used and he’s the man with the key. A blatant and rather stupid act—or is it a statement? So, I’ll be there as soon as I can. Will you be all right?”

  Destroying a badger sett was against the law. Although Christopher had been a DI with the Gloucestershire constabulary for only twenty-four hours, and had a murder case on his hands, she doubted that he’d want to pass this one off to a PC. Badgers were personal.

  “Everything’s fine. Natalie is here to help with Coral. Oliver looked in.” Pru put an eye round the gate. “Oh, and Cynthia is standing at the drive wanting to know where you are.”

  “She’s left three messages, but I don’t have the time. Would you…”

  “Yes, I’ll talk with her.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s all right—we’ll have the police tape between us, so she won’t be able to—crap.” Cyn had ducked under the police tape and was making straight for Pru. “I’ll see you soon,” she said, ending the call, and rushing out to meet Cynthia halfway across the yard.

  “Pru, I need Christopher.” Cyn grabbed her hands and pulled her close. She was surprisingly strong. “I must see him. I rang several times this morning, but he didn’t pick up. Where is he?”

  “Of course, you’ve heard about Mr. Bede?” Pru asked, employing that police tactic of answering a question with a question.

  “Yes. But I was away yesterday—it was my Thirty-Six Hours of Solitude, from five o’clock Sunday afternoon until five o’clock this morning. I knew nothing until my walk earlier with Lizzy and Fabia. And then Margaretta rang to tell me, too.” Cyn frowned, and so did Pru, until she remembered Margaretta was Bram. “Christopher,” Cynthia pushed. “I need to see him.”

  “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Cynthia dropped Pru’s hands and took a tiny step back. “Oh, thank you, but it’s…rather private.”

  “He isn’t a priest,” Pru said, with as much lightheartedness as she could muster.

  “No,” Cynthia replied with a coy smile, “he certainly isn’t that.”

  Pru unclenched her jaw in order to speak clearly. “I’ll tell him you need to see him, shall I? But right now—”

  “What is she doing here?”

  Coral’s voice, high and shrill, carried across the yard and probably a fair way down the lane. She stood at the front door, pointing a finger at Cynthia.

  “She’s no right to be here. Tell her to leave, Pru. Tell her to go.”

  Just inside, Natalie grabbed Coral’s arm and she struggled to free herself.

  “Coral, I’m so very sorry about Batsford,” Cyn called, but she didn’t try to approach.

  “Go away!” Coral shrieked and then, to Natalie, “Please, let me go, I’m all right.”

  “Coral isn’t quite herself,” Pru said. “It’s probably best if you leave.”

  “I should explain to her,” Cynthia said, but Coral continued to shout, and Cyn conceded. “Yes, all right.” She looked at her watch. “I have a twelve-thirty. But please tell her I’ll see her later.” In a sweep of lacquered silver curls and broomstick skirt, Cyn ducked back under the police tape and disappeared down the lane.

  Pru retreated to the house, where Coral waited just inside the door, her arms folded tightly in front of her with Natalie holding an elbow.

  “She’s a spider, Pru,” Coral hissed. “And she caught Uncle Batty in her web.”

  “Coral, now listen,” Natalie said, leading her to the kitchen. “It takes nothing away from what Batsford and your mother had. But wasn’t it lovely for him to have had a friend these last years.”

  “Lovely for whom?” Coral spat, then bit her lip and bowed her head. “But I know I’m the one to blame—it’s because of me he had to turn to her. I should’ve been here taking care of him. I should’ve been…”

  “I’ve brought a plate of sandwiches down with me,” Natalie said.

  Coral took a breath and changed into the perfect hostess. “Thank you, Natalie, that’s so kind of you. I hope you don’t mind if I go back to my room for a bit.”

  As Coral moved off down the corridor, Pru gestured Natalie into the kitchen and to the far corner.

  “Oliver said to tell you he’s gone back.”

  Natalie gave the kitchen door a quick glance and said in a low voice, “Did they see each other?”

  “Yes. Briefly. What’s the story there?”

  “Coral hasn’t said anything to you?”

  “Very little.”

  “They fell in love,” Natalie said, “that’s what happened. Oh, you should’ve seen them—Oliver’s such a calm sort normally, but he was head over heels. And Coral was mad about him.”

  “But…” Pru offered. Because obviously there was a “but.”

  Natalie shrugged. “I’m not
sure—Oliver would never talk about it. But I have an idea that he asked her to marry him, and it scared her. Coral’s always thought she should move up in the world—although I’m not sure she even knows what that means—and perhaps attaching herself to a head gardener wasn’t enough. One day, they had stars in their eyes, and the next she had skedaddled back to Oxford. And that was that.”

  “She married quickly after that. Twice. Trying to put Oliver behind her?” Pru speculated.

  “That didn’t work out well, did it? Either time.”

  Coral materialized in the kitchen doorway, and Natalie turned away quickly. Pru smiled and tried not to look guilty, hoping Coral hadn’t heard them discussing her love life.

  “I believe I will have a sandwich after all,” Coral said.

  “Lovely.” Natalie grabbed plates and said, “Let’s sit.”

  “I need to nip out for just a moment,” Pru said. “Natalie, can you stay? I won’t be long.” Pru had it in her mind to check a few things with Lizzy Sprackling, but didn’t want to mention her name, because Lizzy was a friend of Cynthia’s and that might set Coral off again. “Christopher is on his way,” Pru added. “I’ll be back before he arrives.”

  —

  Pru dashed across the yard and encountered PC Mills at the drive. “Is Sergeant Appledore around?” she asked.

  “B&E with GBH,” the policewoman replied. “Other side of Stow. Gutted he couldn’t be here.”

  “Mmm,” Pru said, socking away the letters in a corner of her mind to examine later. She explained her monkshood discovery to the PC.

  “We’ll take care of it,” Mills replied.

  “Right,” Pru said. “I won’t be long.”

  She hurried down the lane to the last cottage in the terraced row. There she found Lizzy and Mr. Tod in the back garden surrounded by six-foot-high joe-pye weed.

  “It’s about to change,” Lizzy pronounced, looking up at the searingly blue sky.

  Pru had almost grown accustomed to Lizzy’s unusual way of saying hello. “The weather?” She peered at the horizon. “I don’t see any clouds.”

  “Hmm.” Lizzy stood and studied Pru’s face. “Come indoors and sit for a minute, why don’t you? You look as if you’re about to fall down.”

  Pru allowed herself to be led into Lizzy’s cottage and to a squashy sofa that was covered with several layers of crocheted throws. She sank into the cushions, and her eyelids immediately drooped.

  “I hope you don’t mind my stopping,” she said with effort. “It’s only I thought you could clear up a few things.”

  “Will you try my sloe gin?” Lizzy asked, opening a decanter. She poured a whiskey glass full of purple-black liquid and handed it to Pru.

  “Oh, thanks.” Pru lifted the glass and caught an alcoholic, fruity aroma. She took a sip and coughed. Sweet and intensely plummy. “Lovely,” she wheezed.

  “Last year’s,” Lizzy replied. “I’m trying to drink it up before this season’s ready to bottle.”

  Pru took another drink and found it went down much easier. She settled into the cushions. “Lizzy, what is it that Cynthia does? I mean, her work—she does have a job, right?”

  “Well, now, that is a good question. I suppose you could say she’s a sort of counselor, isn’t she? What do they call it these days—a life coach? She’s got that way about her, you see—she can help folks recover, put them on the right path.”

  Recover from what? Pru wondered as she took another gulp of her drink. “Is that what she was to Mr. Bede?”

  “There you are,” Lizzy said, pointing at Pru, “a perfect example. She was bringing him out of himself. She’s helped lots of folk—Bram, Fabia. Well, I’d say Fabia’s still a work in progress. It’s just Cyn’s way.” A scratching at the door caught Lizzy’s attention. “That’s Mr. Tod—let me just see to him, shall I? You stay here and rest.”

  Pru yawned and drank and yawned again. Such a comfy front room—bright with filtered light, and the scent of herbs in the air. She went to take the last sip of sloe gin and found she had already finished it.

  She put her head back against the cushion and thought how she could make sloe gin—it couldn’t be difficult. Pick the sloes. They ripen in late summer—she’d seen them in the hedgerows—and steep them in gin. Sugar, add sugar. Yes, next year, she would go foraging around Greenoak and come up with a massive harvest. Mr. Tod might like to help her. After all, who better to know the country lanes than a fox? Would Lizzy mind if Mr. Tod came to visit them? He could probably take the bus down to Hampshire, and when he arrived, the two of them would spend the day picking sloes and plopping them into the bucket…

  The hot afternoon spent picking raspberries. We three find our harvest thin but our stomachs full. BB

  Chapter 19

  “No, she’s just here.”

  Pru heard Lizzy’s voice as if from the bottom of a well.

  “Shall I wake her for you?”

  Opening her eyes, Pru first saw Christopher standing over her, that ghost of a smile playing round his lips. Beyond him, Coral stood in the open front door, bending from the waist as if in conversation with Mr. Tod, who sat looking up at her attentively.

  “Am I awake?” Pru asked.

  “Apparently.” Christopher offered his hand, and she gave him the free one—the other still holding an empty glass. She’d sunk quite deep into the cushions and was grateful for the assistance. “Natalie didn’t know where you’d gone,” he said, “and I would’ve worried except PC Mills said you’d started down the lane, and Coral suggested you might be here.”

  “You should’ve told me you were coming, Pru,” Coral said, stepping into the front room. “I would’ve come along.”

  “I’m so sorry I fell asleep,” Pru said as she took her hair clip out to neaten up.

  “Nonsense, a bit of a kip in the middle of the day doesn’t hurt,” Lizzy replied. “And you”—she nodded at Coral—“you should’ve been down here before now. How are you doing?”

  “I’m all right.” Coral offered a pleasant smile and a shrug.

  Lizzy’s mumbled reply sounded like a disagreement. “Christopher,” she said, “come to my workroom in the back—I’ve something for you.” She led him out through the kitchen.

  “You missed Natalie’s sandwiches, Pru,” Coral said. “You’ve had no lunch, have you?”

  “Look, about you and Oliver—”

  Coral’s eyes instantly flooded with tears and she blinked rapidly. “There is no ‘Oliver and me.’ I made certain of that.”

  Lizzy emerged from the kitchen with a glance back over her shoulder. She then thrust several small packets into Coral’s hands—filter papers filled with…something.

  “Here now,” she said quietly, “this’ll give you the energy you need to get through these days. You take them.”

  Pru, still groggy from her nap, leapt to a conclusion without looking closely. “Lizzy!” she hissed. “Drugs?”

  Lizzy scowled at her. “Peppermint and rosemary tea,” she said in a sharp tone.

  “Oh, um, sorry,” Pru mumbled.

  Coral looked down at the tea bags. “I don’t really like rosemary.”

  Lizzy clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. She snatched the packets and went back to the kitchen, whence emerged the sounds of rummaging—opening and closing of drawers and cupboards. Coral sat herself down in a wingback chair, looking quite at home.

  “Our cottage was the one midterrace. Lizzy says it’s a holiday rental now.” She sighed and looked up at the ceiling and around the walls. “It’s smaller than I remember as a girl.”

  “Or you’re bigger,” Pru pointed out.

  Lizzy returned and handed Coral more packets. “Here now, princess,” she said, “nettle tea. That’ll do you.”

  Pru thought Coral might bristle at Lizzy’s manner, but instead, she smiled. “Thank you, Lizzy.” She looked at Pru. “My mother always called me ‘princess.’ ”

  —

  “Look at this,” Christop
her said as he stood at the car with Pru while Coral and Lizzy said their goodbyes. “It’s Lizzy’s map of their walking route.”

  He handed over a sheet of notebook paper. More than a map, it was a pen-and-ink drawing of the village with fanciful touches in colored pencils. With only a few well-placed lines, Pru could identify Lizzy’s cottage with Mr. Tod, the Copper Beech and its hen-related weather vane, even Custard out in his field. The yew hedges at Glebe House outlined the many garden rooms. Three figures marched along the lane.

  “Fantastic,” she said. “I remember Lizzy said she had worked for an architect and learned drawing. I hope the sergeant appreciates it.”

  “Appledore—I still need to talk with him.”

  “Oh,” Pru said casually, “PC Mills told me he was caught up this morning. B&E and GBH on the other side of Stow. Gutted he couldn’t be here.” Pru had been able to expand the handful of letters into police phrases she’d heard before—“breaking and entering” and “grievous bodily harm.”

  “Why thank you, Ms. Parke,” Christopher told her, smiling. “And good work.”

  His phone rang and he stepped away to answer, while Pru, for a fleeting moment, pictured herself in uniform wearing one of those cute bowler hats with the black-and-white bands.

  Christopher ended his call and came back to Pru. “Why don’t I drop you and Coral off at the B&B—I have another stop to make.”

  “We’ll drop Coral off,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”

  A small frown appeared on his face. “I’d say Coral could use the company,” he countered.

  His reluctance alerted Pru that something was up. She raised her eyebrows and waited.

  “Ger Crombie. That was Bram on the phone, saying she and Ger will meet me at the Horse & Groom. It’s only to question him about the badger sett.”

  “And bring up his arrival time yesterday morning. Bram said eight o’clock; he said seven. There’s no need to keep me from Ger Crombie.” She thought a moment. “It’s likely Bram told Ger in no uncertain terms he was to talk with you. And he couldn’t say no to her.”