Gardners, Ditchers, and Gravemakers (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 4) by Oliver Davies (best black authors txt) 📗

back seats. It was a fairly clean car, a few dropped pens on the floor and some left-over gloves and scarves in the backseat. One of those shields that stuck to the window to keep the sun out of children’s eyes had been taken down.

“Other one must belong to Quaid,” I murmured, looking over the rickety Land Rover with its collection of bumper sticks and the dog crate in the boot.

We left the cars, heading back into the house where more people had gathered and were bent at desks or standing around in little groups, others with their elbows deep in soil as they tended plants. They all wore lab coats like Abbie did, some of them with muddy boots or wellies on underneath. As we walked in, Dr Quaid spotted us and hurried over, cradling an empty pot in his hands.

“Detectives,” he greeted us quietly, aware of the eyes that had looked over at us curiously. “How is she? Abbie? Grace?”

“Abbie is in a coma, but she’s stable,” I told him, and he sagged slightly with relief. “Grace is with her aunt. Can we talk somewhere, Dr Quaid?” I asked, giving a pointed look to the other people that were staring over at us.

“Certainly. Come into the office. It’s much quieter.” He put the pot down and gave his team a polite nod before leading us away from the busy room to the small office we had sat in before. Mills walked over to a row of hooks on the wall where bags and coats hung.

“Which one is Abbie’s?” He asked politely.

“Third from the right,” Dr Quaid informed him, sitting down behind his desk and indicating the seat opposite him. Mills pulled Abbie’s coat and bag from the hook and dropped them by his feet to take back to the station with us, and likely then to Paige.

“Sorry for disturbing you, Dr Quaid, but we didn’t get much time to talk this morning.”

He waved a hand, taking his glasses off to clean them with a handkerchief. “You had to make sure Abbie was alive, and Grace was taken care of. I’d say you had your priorities just right, Inspector.”

“I was wondering if you might talk us through this morning,” I asked him, hoping that now that the shock had worn off a little, his memory might be clearer.

“Of course, yes. Well, I was in at half eight. Got everything open and running for everybody else. And I fetched myself a brew and sat down to start ploughing through some emails when Abbie came in.”

“How did she seem?” Mills asked him.

“She seemed her usual self. Cheery, but a bit annoyed.”

“Annoyed?” I repeated.

“Grace is on holiday now,” he explained. “She’s been looking forward to spending some time with her before she goes to school in September. I think she was a bit annoyed about having to come in and finish some of her work. She didn’t need to,” he added hastily, “but she’s a bit of a perfectionist, our Abbie, and she likes to see things done properly.”

I nodded, resting my elbow on the arm of the chair. Must rub people up the wrong way that, I thought, noting Mills scribbling something down himself.

“Go on, doctor.”

“Right. Well, she came in, dropped her stuff off and said she’d be out in the greenhouse. She got herself a tea and then headed out. After a few hours, I went out to get her approval for an order she needed and to see if she fancied another cuppa, but I couldn’t see her in the greenhouse.”

“Did you go into the greenhouse?” I asked, and he shook his head.

“You can see straight in from along the path, and she wasn’t there, but the door was open, so I figured she’d stepped out. Maybe needed a stroll or something.”

“So, you went looking for her,” I supplied.

“That’s right. Around the corner where some of the old tool sheds are, and I saw her down there, in amongst the off-limit plants.”

“Poisonous plants,” Mills clarified.

“Useful when used properly, Sergeant and I can assure you both that my staff need clearance from me and express permission to access any of those plants.”

“What was Abbie doing there?” I asked.

“She was just standing,” he recalled, his voice distant. “She looked unsteady, wobbling a bit, so I called her name and then she just collapsed. I ran over, and she wasn’t moving. When I got close, I couldn’t see her chest rising or falling.”

“Why didn’t you call the ambulance?” Mills asked him. “Why call us?”

“I thought she was dead,” he said quietly. “And I panicked.”

“That’s alright, Doctor,” I assured him. “You called the right people, as it turns out. Was anyone else in at that point?”

“Not then. People started turning up not long after you had left yourself. Had a strange time explaining to them why the police had closed off that part of the garden.”

Forensics had left not long after we did, I knew, and as suspected, there wasn’t much to be found where Abbie had been.

“What exactly was Abbie’s research?” I asked him. “It must be important for her to come in and finish it up.”

“It’s a long-term study,” he answered, his voice getting clearer, more confident as he spoke, “into natural treatments for cardiovascular diseases. Not easy work, but Abbie always enjoyed it. She understands plants, you see,” he said. “Knows how they can work if they’re treated properly.”

“Who else is on the research team?” Mills inquired.

“Abbie worked with her partner, Sonia Petrilli. They’ve worked together on several studies now. They’re my best team,” he added proudly. “Abbie came in today to check the stability of a compound they’d been experimenting with.”

I frowned. “Why not wait for Sonia to come in?” I asked. “Surely she could have done that.”

“She certainly could. But that was Abbie’s side of the research, and like I said before, Inspector, she’s a perfectionist when it comes to working.”

“Is Sonia here now?” Mills asked him.

“She came in a few hours ago. She’s rather shaken up. She’ll