Death in the Garden City

by Jeanne M. Dams

  He’d said that in a voice so low I could barely hear him. No one else could have, I was sure of that. And he’d turned his head away from the rest of the room. He was taking no chances at all.

  That might have frightened me as an acknowledgment that he believed we were in serious peril. In fact, it reassured me. Alan was in command of the situation, and I had utter confidence in him. I smiled, toasted him silently, and drank my cider before we headed ‘home’.

  We stopped at a supermarket on the way and purchased some staples, but I had qualms. The condo didn’t feel like home. It was too neat, too clean, too unlived-in. I would have welcomed a nice cat or two, or a little clutter, or something that made it feel less like a set for a House Beautiful photo shoot. ‘I’m afraid I’ll drop crumbs, or spill something. I don’t know if I can bear to cook in this immaculate kitchen. On an electric stove.’

  ‘It’s that or restaurant meals, love. Or take-away. I do draw the line at frozen meals.’

  ‘Some of them are not too bad, you know. Sainsbury’s does some good ones you’ve eaten before, and liked them. But everything’s different here. More like America in some ways.’

  ‘It is America, dear heart. The North American continent isn’t occupied exclusively by your homeland.’

  ‘If you love me, Alan, don’t lecture. I haven’t had a very pleasant day.’

  ‘Nor have I. When I thought I might have lost you …’ His voice trailed off. He cleared his throat. ‘What have you planned for supper?’

  ‘I bought some salmon that looks lovely. I can broil that and make a salad.’

  ‘There’s a grill out on the deck.’

  ‘Alan Nesbitt, if you think I’m going to be responsible for cleaning someone else’s grill! The oven broiler will be fine, and I can bake a couple of potatoes. That way I don’t have to deal with the surface burners immediately. I’ll put the potatoes in as soon as we get this stuff put away.’

  ‘Which we will do in a few minutes. Right now I want you to sit down and take several deep breaths while I make you a cup of tea. No arguments!’

  I wasn’t actually minded to argue. The trauma of the afternoon had left me more shaken than I had realized. I hadn’t had time, when it happened, to think about anything except Alan, and how to get away from the threat. Now I felt wrung out. I was happy to sit and let Alan pamper me, all the while thinking of how life without him … no, I wouldn’t think about that.

  Alan makes excellent tea. Having lived as a widower for some years, he’s quite competent in a kitchen, and had found tea, pot, cups and accompaniments without fuss. There were also a few pieces of shortbread on a plate.

  ‘How did you manage that? I didn’t think I bought any biscuits.’

  ‘You didn’t. An oversight which we will remedy soon. I found a new packet of Walker’s in the freezer and nuked it for a few seconds. I suppose Sue had just bought it when she went away, and didn’t want ants to get into it. We can replace it for her.’

  ‘Mm.’ I nodded with my mouth full.

  We sipped our tea in companionable silence, and when I’d finished I put my cup down, blessing its restorative qualities, and said, ‘We were awfully lucky, Alan.’

  ‘Luckier than we deserved, as stupid as we’d been.’

  ‘We didn’t really take it seriously, did we? Or I didn’t. Chattering away in public!’

  ‘That’s putting it a bit strongly, love. We didn’t exactly “chatter” about anything sensitive. But plainly we said enough to raise an alarm in some quarter or other. And paid the price.’

  ‘It could have been a much higher price.’ I tried to keep my voice steady, and almost succeeded. I was glad I wasn’t holding a teacup, though. My hands were less controlled.

  ‘Yes.’ Just the single word, but it said volumes.

  ‘We have to tell John about this,’ I said, attempting to return to the mundane. ‘I hope he doesn’t decide we need to take our marbles and go home.’

  ‘I have a feeling he probably already knows. There are no flies on Sergeant Moore. He may not think we’re of the slightest use, but he won’t neglect— Ah.’ Alan’s mobile warbled. ‘This will be John now.’

  But it wasn’t. Alan’s face showed more and more anger as he listened in silence to the voice on the other end. Still without saying a word, he clicked off, immediately going back to check the number. ‘Blocked,’ he said. ‘No surprise.’

  ‘A threat? What did he say?’

  ‘Or she. The voice was filtered electronically. Could have been either man or woman. It was just a standard stop-it-or-else threat. The “or else” was spelled out rather dramatically. And foolishly. I won’t give you the details, but many of our promised fates are quite literally impossible to accomplish.’

  I made a face. ‘Alan, does it strike you that there’s something very amateurish about today’s efforts? An attack meant to scare us off, and now a phone call straight out of a bad thriller? Somehow it doesn’t seem to fit in with the other incidents, which were disturbing, but subtle. Well, except for poor Silas’s hawks, but even that was well-managed.’

  ‘I agree. You know we speculated that more than one person or group might be involved in the disturbances. This last—’ The phone warbled again. This time Alan looked at the display before answering. ‘Hello, John. I had a feeling we might be hearing from you soon. No, I … but … no!’ He listened for a little. Even from several feet away, I could hear the agitation in John’s voice. ‘Look, I think this may be much less serious than you think. I can’t explain over the phone. Why don’t you come over here and we can talk. Dorothy’s about ready to start preparing a meal, and— No, of course not! We’ll expect you in a few minutes.’

  He clicked off. ‘You’d better put three potatoes in the oven.’

  ‘I heard. What’s up? John sounded really upset.’

  ‘There’s been a development. I’ll let him tell you about it. I don’t think it’s as serious as he believes, but it’s impossible to be sure. If you don’t mind being left alone for a few minutes, I’m going back to the supermarket for some bar supplies. Lock the door after me.’

  I locked it and put the chain on, and then started the oven and scrubbed three big potatoes. They wouldn’t, of course, be Idahos, but they looked enough like baking potatoes that I hoped they’d work. I was getting out salad makings when the knock came.

  I dropped the cucumber. Taking a deep breath, I picked it up, dusted it off, and went to the door, wishing there were a peephole. ‘Yes?’ I willed my voice not to quaver.

  ‘Dorothy? It’s John. Are you all right?’

  So much for trying to sound normal. ‘Yes, John, but it’s been a trying day. You’ll think this is foolish, but what’s the name of your niece in Suffolk?’

  ‘Judith. Lady Montcalm. But what—?’

  I opened the door. ‘Just taking precautions. Alan had to go out for a moment. Do come in and sit down. When Alan gets back he’ll pour you a drink; there wasn’t anything in the house.’

  ‘Oh. No. I should have brought – but I didn’t think – did Alan tell you?’

  ‘No, he wanted you to give me the details. And here he is.’

  It didn’t take long for Alan to find glasses and pour us each a libation. We moved to the kitchen where I could get on with dinner preparations while John told his story.

  TEN

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said,’ John said to Alan, taking a sip of his drink. ‘I overreacted, just like the grandparents who get scam calls about a kid in trouble. After I called you, I called Amy. She was at work and couldn’t talk long, but she’s fine. At least for now.’

  ‘Clue me in, John. You told Alan, but he didn’t say a word to me.’ I started slicing the cucumber.

  ‘I got a call. Don’t know who the caller was. He said—’

  ‘Wait.’ Alan held up a hand. ‘It was a man calling?’

  ‘I couldn’t actually tell. The voice was distorted. Could have been either.’

  ‘Ah.
Go on.’

  ‘He – it – said Amy was in danger, that she would be abducted and–and tortured …’ He stopped to drink a little more of his whisky. ‘He spelled out details. I won’t go into that. Then he said I could prevent it if I stopped trying to … well, it was pretty crude, but what it amounted to was, I was to keep my nose out of the investigation into the incidents we’ve been looking into.’

  ‘Yes.’ Alan put his glass down. ‘I thought it would be something like that. I got a call almost exactly like yours, and just a few minutes before yours. Almost identical. Altered voice, filthy language, strong intimidation. I take it you haven’t heard about our little adventure today?’

  ‘No. What happened?’

  ‘Alan, get out some of that brie we just bought. Dinner will be a while. Meanwhile, John …’ I summarized our experiences, while still slicing the cucumber. ‘It was extremely frightening at the time, but looking back on it, Alan and I both decided it was pretty feeble. Well-meaning – or rather, ill-meaning amateurs trying to scare us.’

  ‘Which they did, I have to say.’ Alan put down a plate of cheese and crackers. ‘Thank God Dorothy kept her head.’

  ‘And so did you, my love. Even though you thought he was holding a gun on you. But you see what we mean, John. If these had been professional crooks, it would have been a real gun. They would have just bundled both of us away and either killed us, or held us for ransom.’

  ‘Or both.’ John helped himself to a chunk of brie. ‘Yes, I do see. Intimidation, rather than any real attempt at harm. And quite a different approach from the incidents we’re looking at.’

  ‘Exactly.’ Alan slapped his hand on the table. ‘But obviously connected with them. Witness the threats. Now. Given what we know now, and what we can infer, what conclusions can we draw?’

  ‘Two groups working toward the same ends. One competent, one not. The incompetents ought to be easy to apprehend. I take it the police have descriptions of your thugs?’

  ‘Alan was able to give a pretty good one.’ I put the salad bowl on the table and opened the oven to check on the potatoes. ‘I wasn’t much help. I was too scared. Move, dear, and let me get these potatoes out and the salmon in to broil. And we’re going to talk about something else while we eat. Sue has a lovely place here, John. We’re going to be very comfortable.’

  And not another word of disaster talk did I allow until we had nearly finished. I apologized for the lack of dessert.

  ‘Dorothy, we’re stuffed! That was a lovely meal.’

  ‘Thank you, John, but my Hoosier grandmother would be appalled that there was no pie. More wine, anybody?’

  Next morning dawned bright and a bit chilly. As usual. ‘I think,’ I said to Alan over coffee and toast, ‘that weather wouldn’t work well as a conversational gambit here. “Oh, what a beautiful day” would wear a bit thin after a month of them. What are we going to do today?’

  ‘Hmm. John’s suggestion of talking to people didn’t work out too well, did it?’

  ‘Not here in Victoria. Alan, I confess to feeling more than a little intimidated.’

  ‘That, of course, is exactly what they were trying to accomplish. Whoever “they” are.’

  ‘Well, it worked. You know, we’re operating under a handicap here. Not only do we have no official standing, we don’t know anybody. At home you still have some clout because of your position, even though you’re retired. And for a while I could go around asking questions because I was an American, not expected to know anything or pose any threat.’

  ‘No longer true, of course.’

  ‘No, now everybody in Sherebury knows I’m your wife, and pathologically nosy, but they also know we’ve solved a few problems for people. So I can still talk to people, and of course, so can you.’

  ‘Hmm. So how can we turn those handicaps around and use them?’

  ‘I see: the lemonade approach. Bah humbug. Well, I’m not sure there’s anything we can do with these particular lemons. Let’s see. We don’t know anybody.’

  ‘Which also means nobody knows us. We were spotted yesterday because we made ourselves conspicuous with our questions. And because a pair of goons were out on patrol.’

  ‘Well, we need to ask questions. And those goons now know who we are.’

  ‘I may be wrong, Dorothy.’

  ‘Surely not!’

  ‘Sarcasm is the tool of the devil, as you so frequently remind me. In this case, what I’m about to say is pure speculation and may well be mistaken, or perhaps wishful thinking. But I believe that yesterday’s goons were operating without the knowledge of their principal.’

  ‘Who is presumably the author of the – we can’t keep calling them “incidents”. Too trivial.’

  ‘How about “nastiness”?’

  ‘The recent nastiness. Yes, I like that. Is there more coffee?’ I held out my cup.

  Alan filled it and went on with his thought. ‘We’ve decided that the attacks on us were almost certainly related to the nastiness, but perpetrated by a different person. The original villain is careful and clever. Does it seem at all likely that he would have authorized something so incompetent, unnecessary, and unproductive as the attacks on us?’

  ‘Well, if you put it that way, no. All that was accomplished was to frighten us—’

  ‘A little.’

  ‘Okay, a little. And to identify us. But on the flip side, we can also identify them. The principal, as you call him, has never been seen.’

  ‘Right. So the rest of my speculation states that at this point, said principal – shall we give him a name?’

  ‘Beelzebub.’

  ‘Apt, but cumbersome.’

  ‘Then how about Bub, for short? I don’t know if it’s ever used in England, but in America, or at least in American fiction, the police would walk up to someone suspicious and address him as “Bub”. As in, “Okay, Bub, what do you think you’re doing?” Or somewhat saltier words to that effect.’

  ‘I like it. Bub it is. Very well, then, I think that Bub is now very angry with his goons, and will keep them out of circulation. Probably out of the province.’

  ‘Out of the country, even? Seattle’s only a few miles away.’

  ‘You’re not thinking, Dorothy. Finish that coffee. Anyone leaving the country has to show a passport. If the police are taking this seriously, they will have alerted the border people.’ He held up a hand as I opened my mouth. ‘And even if they’re not, as we suspect, Bub can’t be sure of that, and he’s always careful. In any case, I doubt we’ll ever see or hear of those particular villains again, and I’m pretty sure we’re safe as long as we don’t go and do something stupid.’

  I finished my coffee as ordered, and thought about that. ‘Okay, I’ll buy it. Provisionally. So, as I said way back when, what do you think we should do today?’

  ‘If you’re agreeable, I think we start acting like the tourists that, in fact, we are, and go to some of the places where the nastiness was perpetrated. Starting at the beginning, at Butchart Gardens. And we talk. I suggest going back to one of Hercule Poirot’s first tenets, that if people talk long enough, they’ll reveal more than they intended to.’

  I thought about that for a moment. ‘He was talking about criminals. That was so often the way he caught them.’

  ‘True, but it applies to anyone. People like to talk. Let’s talk to anyone we can at Butchart, let them start telling stories, and see if any gold appears among the dross.’

  We tossed for the driver’s seat, and I lost. Or won, depending on how you think of it. At any rate, I was at the wheel when we headed into downtown Victoria to find an ATM, and then on out to Butchart on the route mandated by the lady in the dashboard. Somewhat to my own amazement, I got us there without a hitch.

  It was still early enough that there was plenty of room in the parking lot. I said something to the man at the ticket office. ‘It’s early in the day, and early in the season. It’ll be picking up every day now through the end of September or so. Her
e are your maps. Enjoy the gardens.’

  ‘What’s that?’ I said as Alan put away his change. ‘It looks like plastic.’

  ‘It is. The banknotes here aren’t engraved on paper. But some of them do, you will observe, include the proper picture.’ He pointed to the portrait of Queen Elizabeth on the twenty-dollar bill, and grinned.

  ‘God save the Queen. Even in a place where she doesn’t reign. Okay, where are we going first?’

  Alan thought a moment. ‘Any place where there are gardeners at work. They’re the ones we need to talk to first, don’t you think?’

  ‘As long as they’re not too busy, yes, I think so. They wouldn’t appreciate being held up in their work.’

  ‘My dear, if they’re like any other gardeners on the planet, they’ll welcome a break.’

  We came across a whole crew of them almost immediately, working in the huge Sunken Garden, the first garden we saw on the tour. They were digging up tulips and planting snapdragons and marigolds and other summer annuals.

  ‘What a job!’ I said to one of them. ‘I don’t do that sort of thing anymore, but I used to, years ago when I lived in Indiana.’

  ‘A big job, as you say. Do you visit often? You said you were from the States, but don’t I hear an English accent?’

  ‘I’ve lived in England for quite a while now. Over there they think I still talk like a Yank. On this side of the pond people think I’m a Brit. But no, this is only our second visit to the Gardens. My husband really is a Brit, and neither of us has ever been to this part of Canada before.’

  ‘You must come back in full summer! You’ll never see the same garden twice. Not just the seasonal changes, I don’t mean, but plants are constantly being replaced, new ones introduced – it’s a work in progress.’

  ‘All gardens are, though, aren’t they? Plants get aggressive and take the place, or else for some inexplicable reason they die. Nothing is static in a garden.’

  He shook his head in rueful agreement. ‘And of course in a public place like this, occasionally something gets stolen.’