Strawberries and Suffering Page 11

Holly shook her head. “My divorce isn’t messy. It’s neat and clinical, just like my marriage.”

  At that comment, Emma burst into such a roll of laughter that it came close to hysterics. “Stop it,” she said, barely able to breathe. “You’re killing me.”

  “I thought you were the one killing people,” Holly replied with a wry grin. “Besides, you’re the one who started it. Asking impertinent questions about the marriages of your elders and betters.”

  “Well, elder certainly.”

  Holly’s mood had lifted so much in the brief exchange that she could have kissed Emma for the reprieve. Aidan joined them a few moments later, and Holly gave him an enormous smile.

  “That’s the spirit,” he said. “Smile and make everyone wonder what you’ve been up to.”

  “What have you been up to, in any case?” Holly asked.

  “Well, I went around the entire room pumping people mercilessly for information. All I ended up with was a list of compliments for the chef and concern that they might soon drop dead.”

  “Oh, goodness. I hope not. We’ve had quite enough excitement for one day.” Holly’s smile fell away as she thought of Derek. She closed her eyes and sent up a brief prayer, hoping that someone would be there to listen.

  “I think we should probably start clearing the food,” Aidan said. He clapped his hands together, and Holly smiled. Her ex-husband Simon had also appreciated a simple task when things got complicated.

  “I suppose you’re right,” she said with less enthusiasm. “I can’t imagine anyone is going to eat anything more after this.”

  They began to stack the dishes on the table nearest, scraping uneaten scraps off the individual plate onto another so they could pile them for the trip to the kitchens.

  Elvira popped up by Holly’s elbow, her two friends in tow. “Can we help out by doing the dishes?” she asked.

  Holly kept the surprise off her face as she gratefully accepted the offer of help. “That’ll be great, thank you. If you set yourselves up in the kitchen, we’ll start ferrying these through in a few minutes.”

  The girls ran off, talking excitedly to each other. Holly couldn’t imagine what about—dishes weren’t a big thing back in her teenage years. unless it was the avoidance of doing them.

  “She’s a good kid,” Aidan said, staring after Elvira long after she’d gone. “It’s a pity her mom is going through such a rough time at the moment.”

  “Is it serious, her mother’s illness?”

  “Serious and getting worse. Melinda found out a few years ago that she had multiple sclerosis, and since then, she’s weathered one or two flare-ups every year. If there was longer between them, her recovery would be better, but as it is, each time she goes a little bit more downhill.”

  “How awful,” Holly said, lifting the stack of plates. “I can’t imagine the strength it takes for both of them to face that specter every day.”

  “I suppose that’s why she’s embracing the dark side lately,” Aidan mused. “Thinking of pop stars and movies probably doesn’t sit well with everything else that’s going on.”

  On their first trip out through the double doors, Holly and Aidan were nearly sent bowling by a couple of men strolling through. When they came back for the next load, Holly showed him the secret corridor again. Even though it was a struggle to input the code while holding dishes, it was better than running into a full-grown man.

  While Esmerelda and her cohorts managed the washing in the oversized double sink, Holly, Emma, Aidan, and Crystal grabbed the few remaining tea towels and started to dry.

  “I’ve never understood why this place doesn’t have a row of dishwashers,” Emma grumbled after a few minutes. She was peering down at where her nail had been until a few moments before.

  Aidan flapped his arms. “We are a row of dishwashers.”

  “You know what I mean.” Emma’s good humor seemed to have broken off along with her nail.

  “It’s the china,” Holly said. “The surface of this crockery wouldn’t stand up to being repeatedly washed in a dishwasher. The water is too hot and the powder too astringent. It would weaken and crack the glaze.”

  Emma frowned at her. “How do you know that?”

  Holly shrugged. “Just something I picked up during childhood. Whenever the bakery did a load of fancy catering, guess who got the role of chief dishwashers?” She hooked a thumb back at herself, then included Crystal when her sister pouted.

  “Lucky things. You know, when I was a child I used to dream of my parents owning a restaurant and a bakery. I could eat all day and never gain any weight.”

  “Poor thing,” Crystal said, crossing her eyes.

  “I used to get teased about it something rotten at school,” Emma shot back. “It’s not just chubbos who come under fire, you know. Any little difference and you can guarantee the class will tease you half to death.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” muttered Elvira, while Winter and Midnight solemnly nodded.

  “At least you got to pick your weirdness, girls.” Emma reached for another plate. “That’s a blessing of a kind.”

  “Hey,” Winter protested. “We didn’t choose to be Goth. Gothness just grew upon us.”

  For a moment, Holly thought the teen was serious. Her face was deadpan, the dark lipstick making her skin deathly pale. Then her nose started to twitch, and the corners of her mouth drew up. A second later, the three teenagers were in stitches, soapsuds flying as they laughed with delight.

  The noise was such that Holly barely heard the gentle knock at the door. Only when it grew in volume did it register enough for her to turn her head.

  “Hello?” she asked the elderly man, stooped over by the door.

  He held up a bunch of discarded flowers in one hand and had a look of annoyance on his face. “Are these from the wedding that’s going on here?” he asked.

  The man took a step inside the kitchen and Holly saw that his lower legs and boots were dripping wet. He must have just come in from outside, leaving a coat somewhere en route to the kitchen.

  “I’m sorry,” Holly said. “I don’t know. Is there a problem?”

  “These here are toxic,” the man said, shaking the bunch. “I found them just thrown out of a window into the parking lot out back. The dogs could’ve gotten into ‘em.” In case Holly didn’t know where ‘out back’ was, he pointed through the window in front of the sink.

  “And you are?” Aidan enquired, his eyebrows raised.

  “I’m the gardener for Inglewood Manor,” the man replied. “Jenkins is my name, though that doesn’t matter.” He shook the wilted bunch of flowers again, and Holly recognized them from the suite upstairs. They’d come tumbling past the window when she came out to the kitchen. When was that? She frowned, trying to remember.

  “These petals are toxic,” Jenkins said. “Whoever selected these for the bridal bouquet should’ve been told that by the florist. You can’t just leave ‘em lying about. It’s dangerous.”

  “I’m sorry if they’ve caused a problem,” Aidan said. “I’ll pass the information along to the bride. She’s just recovering upstairs at the moment.”

  “Aye. That’ll be good.” The man paused, the frown on his face growing deeper. “It’s not me that cares, mind. If it were just me, I’d know enough not to eats them. But if the owner’s dogs were out there”—he pointed to the window again—“then they’d be having a sniff and a nibble. Bad news, they are.” He shook the bunch again, a petal working free of the loose stems to fall upon the floor. “To animals and to humans.”

  With a groan, the man bent down to scoop up the dropped petal. He then craned his neck to see into the sink. “Are you going to be long there, young misses? Only, it’s best these go down the InSinkErator and that’s the sink that has it.”

  Holly walked across to take the bunch from the man’s hands and plopped them down on the counter, wrapping them up in a discarded newspaper.

  “We’ll keep an eye on them and make sure n
obody touches them by accident,” she said. “Then, when we’ve finished up with the dishes, we’ll pop them down the waste disposal unit, so they won’t cause any problems.”

  Jenkins nodded slowly. “Aye. Just make sure that you run the water for a long time afterward. A few drops of that poison in your bloodstream and you’re likely to drop down dead.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emma shook her head. “I don’t believe it for a second. There’s no way that all this stuff is happening and it’s an accident.” She turned and pointed at Aidan. “Do you buy that?”

  He held his hands up and backed up half a step. “I’m not getting drawn into this. You know my opinion. We call the police and pass the information over to them.”

  “You’ve changed your tune,” Holly said. “When Matthewson was here earlier you practically accused him of trying to set people up for murder. Now, you’d rather he took the whole thing out of our hands?”

  “I’d rather someone did,” Aidan said. “Preferably someone with a lot of experience and no personal ties to anybody here. If any of you meet that criteria, please make yourselves known.”

  Holly frowned at him even though every word he spoke was utterly logical. Since Jenkins had dropped his bombshell, they’d been fighting in the kitchen over the best course of action to take.

  With a manor house full of suspects, a break in the weather could spell certain doom for solving the conundrum. Much as Holly would be for handing everything over to the police, she was also keenly aware that time was not on their side.

  “If we wait for the police to turn up, half of this crowd might have made a break for it. First off, we’d have to convince them of the seriousness of the situation—”

  “I think that one dead body and another in critical condition would do that,” Crystal said.

  That her sister had stepped into the role of the logical one, infuriated Holly even more. “I’m not suggesting that we never turn the information over to the police. I’m just saying that if we chase up a few confusing pieces of evidence before we do, they might have an easier time of it.”

  “Holly,” Crystal said, placing a hand on her forearm. “This isn’t a game. Derek was well when Wendy called the hospital a few minutes ago. That doesn’t mean it’s certain he’ll pull through and even if he does, there might be lasting damage. He’s our friend. We need to do what’s in his best interest, not what’s in ours.”

  “I think following up on the leads we know about is in his best interest.”

  “And nobody else agrees with you.” Crystal waved her hand around the group, who all duly nodded. “What does that tell you?”

  Holly shook her head and sighed. “I suppose that tells me I should get on the phone to Sergeant Matthewson.”

  “Thank goodness. The lady finally sees sense.”

  Aidan’s timing was once again at odds with the mood of the room. A fact he probably worked out from the dirty look that Holly shot his way.

  As she pushed open the kitchen door, Holly bumped straight into Wendy. She was half-bent over and gave a jump of surprise.

  “What are you doing?” Holly asked.

  “I dropped my hair pin earlier,” Wendy said, a blush working its way up from her neck to her cheek. “I just thought I’d look for it.”

  Holly glanced down at the floor, then looked back up at Wendy with a frown. The woman’s neatly cropped curls didn’t look in need of a hairpin.

  “Were you listening in?” she asked.

  Wendy started to shake her head, then reluctantly nodded. “I couldn’t help it. I’m so worried about Derek, and then I heard your raised voices and thought that something terrible might be happening.”

  “Nothing worse than what’s happened already,” Holly said in a gentle voice. “I’m just about to phone the station and tell them about something the gardener passed onto us. That’s all.”

  Wendy nodded, but a frown passed over her face. “What was all that talk about flowers?”

  Holly shook her head. “I’ll talk to the police and then if they want to explain it to you, they can.”

  All of a sudden, the day caught up with her and Holly felt exhausted. From the moment she’d woken up that morning, she’d been chasing from one crisis into another. She couldn’t imagine how much worse it was for Wendy or her daughter. The outcomes affected them far more severely than they did her.

  Holly gave a brief laugh and Wendy raised her face up, brows drawn in obvious query. “I was just thinking that when I woke up this morning, I thought the worst thing that could happen was the decorations on some cupcakes not being done in time.”

  Wendy offered a wan smile in return. “I thought the worse that could happen would be someone speaking up during that pause after ‘If anybody knows of any reason…’”

  “How’s Sheila doing?”

  Wendy shook her head. “She’s fast asleep at the moment. I don’t think she slept a lot last night and then after her trek to get here…”

  She trailed off, conveniently missing out the bit about the indulgence of wine. Then Holly shrugged. Why not? Sheila didn’t owe her or anybody else an explanation.

  “I hope she feels better when she wakes up. At least the hospital didn’t have bad news.”

  “They didn’t have good news, either,” Wendy said and shook her head. “I just wish we could be by poor Derek’s side right now. If only I’d found those car keys.”

  Holly looked at the phone, sitting on the table a few yards away. She didn’t know whether she was postponing the call to the police because she didn’t want to, or because Wendy deserved a few minutes of someone being kind.

  “I’m sure the council will clear the roads soon.” Too soon for Holly’s liking. “Once that’s done, you can travel down to Christchurch. I dare say, you’ll be sitting with Derek by tonight.”

  “I hope so.” Wendy shuffled from foot to foot, and Holly took the cue.

  “I’ll just head off and make that call,” she said. “Why don’t you go back upstairs and look after Sheila? That’s the most important role for you today.”

  Once she’d disappeared up the staircase, Holly crossed over to the phone. She picked up the receiver, expecting the dial tone. Instead, it was silent and still.

  “Oh, no,” she muttered as she replaced the handle and tried again. Still no luck. Had the phone lines really gone down once more?

  Thinking that third time might be lucky, Holly picked up the whole phone and lifted the receiver once more. As it moved, she saw that the wire connecting it to the wall swing free.

  Putting the phone back down, Holly leaned forward to grab the loose cord. At first, she thought it must have come unplugged. It was a nasty shock when it pulled up and the end shone where the wires had been severed.

  “I feel awful saying this,” Holly said as a starter. She’d just explained about the phone, watching looks of horror descend quickly into anger. “But I think that it’s possible Wendy had something to do with this.”

  “Why would she cut the telephone cord?” Emma asked. “That’s the only way she and Sheila have of checking on Derek.”

  “I don’t mean just the telephone cord.”

  Holly blushed as the group turned toward her. Three faces, all creased with concern—perhaps about Wendy or maybe that Holly had lost her mind.

  “Look, I don’t want to believe it, but it’s starting to fit the facts. Why else would Wendy be listening outside the door?”

  “Because someone tried to murder her son-in-law and she thinks we know something and won’t share it?” Aidan paused a moment. “All of which is true.”

  “No.” Emma shook her head, and Holly felt a knife twist in her gut. She was an awful person, accusing a friend when she should have kept her thoughts to herself.

  But Emma continued, “It all fits.” She turned to Aidan. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but you have to admit that Wendy is the person with the most access and the most opportunity.”

  Emma turned
back to Holly and Crystal. “Did Jenkins say what type of flower it was?”

  They shook their heads, Holly reaching for her bag to pull out her phone and google it. A second later, she remembered and pushed it away. No phone. No internet.

  “You probably don’t know this, but Wendy has a show garden. She breeds rare specimens for sale and shipping all over the world.”

  Holly shook her head, she hadn’t known.

  “People think she’s mad for doing it here. Just the cost of getting it to Christchurch is prohibitive, but from what I’ve heard, the ones buying are just as nutty. They’ll pay hundreds or even thousands sometimes for a cutting.”

  Holly pushed away from the countertop and began to pace. “Even if Wendy didn’t grow it herself, she would know about it.”

  “I really don’t like where this line of thinking is going.” Aidan crossed his arms over his chest. “This isn’t a puzzle that we should solve. Wendy is a friend who has just had a disastrous day and needs our support.”

  “And what if it was you lying dead in the morgue instead of Arnold?” Emma mimicked Aidan’s body language, crossing her arms and jutting her chin out. “Somebody in this building is responsible for him and Derek. They should be the people you spend your sympathy on. Wendy had the means and opportunity.”

  “Why would she even do it?” Aidan said. “You missed one out of that lot. Motive. What did Wendy gain from hurting either one of them?”

  Aidan’s voice had increased in volume with every word until at the end, he was shouting. The sound of the door banging open was louder still.

  Holly turned and saw Wendy standing near the cupboards, her face white and strained. Holly gave a tug on Aidan’s arm, warning him to be quiet but when he turned and saw the new arrival he just gave Wendy a nod.

  “Do you know what we’re all in here discussing?” Aidan asked her. “You’ve got two people insisting that you used some of your rare plants to poison Arnold and Derek.”

  “Don’t,” Holly cried out. The stab of guilt into her stomach twisted a blade so keenly that she doubled over. “It’s a private conversation.”