The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2) by Emmy Ellis (reading diary txt) 📗

in that armchair when they’d come out of the kitchen, supposedly asleep, her chest had been going up and down a bit too rapid for her to have really drifted off. Karen wasn’t a stupid woman, she knew feigning when she saw it, and Doreen had tried to pull the bloody wool over their eyes.

Why?

Or maybe it’s my imagination, considering what we were talking about.

Hmm, that could be it. A guilty conscience, although she didn’t feel guilty about wanting to kill Cassie, more along the lines of feeling bad for upsetting Sharon, who really didn’t want to get involved. Never would she have thought her friend would veto the plan, and it just went to show, didn’t it, you thought you knew someone, then they turned around and surprised you by being honest.

I’ll do it by myself. Or ask Brenda to come in on it with me.

Decision made, she hurried through her leaflet deliveries then made her way to Brenda’s. Even if her best mate didn’t agree to jump on the bandwagon, at least she’d listen, hear Karen out. Talking would be good—Karen was so irritated she could punch someone, and Brenda had a calming influence.

She knocked on Brenda’s door, and her pal ushered her inside.

“I’ve only got ten minutes, though,” Brenda said. “I’ve got a bloke to fleece. Sid Watson, eighty-one, worth three hundred thousand. No relatives.” She smiled her devious smile and led the way to the kitchen, her backside twitching in her leopard-print jeggings.

They settled at the small table, teas steaming in front of them, and Karen jumped right in, explaining her plan and why she wanted Cassie out. Then she asked Brenda to join her in the murder, also giving her the option to be top dog alongside Karen running the Barrington. Sharon didn’t deserve that privilege now.

“Nope.” That was Brenda, no messing. “If you manage to kill her and take over the patch, I’ll be loyal to you then, but at the minute, Cassie’s my boss, and she lines my pockets. You know how I am—I won’t bite the hand that currently feeds me, but I will switch sides if it’s more beneficial to me; only once the takeover is complete, mind.”

Karen sighed. “I thought you’d say that, but it doesn’t hurt to ask, does it. I’ll manage it by myself somehow and nip round here when the patch changes hands.”

Brenda tapped her long red nails on the table. “Have you figured Francis into the equation? With Cassie gone, the Barrington then goes to her mother.”

Karen’s heart sank. “Shite. I hadn’t thought beyond offing Cassie. I’ll have to do Francis an’ all, won’t I.” That was an added complication she didn’t need. Why couldn’t things go her way for once? Why did her whole life have obstacles she had to continually hurdle? Just call her Sally Gunnell.

Brenda bit her bottom lip then released it. “Good luck there. She’s been by Lenny’s side for years and knows all the tricks in staying alive. You’ll have your work cut out for you. Why the need to take over anyroad—the real need?”

That was easy to answer. “I didn’t mind Lenny so much because he was always fair—but it did piss me off when he came along and took over what amounted to my patch, mine and Sharon’s. Since she’s taken over, Little Miss Bossy, she’s lowered the amount of warnings people get, which doesn’t give them much room to make mistakes. We’re all human, and she now expects folks to do as they’re told after one warning, then they’re dead. Take Brett Davis for instance. He—”

“Pissed off without paying rent. Yeah, I know.”

Karen got narked at that. Not only had Doreen found out before her, but Brenda had, too. Was she losing her touch? Were the people who were supposed to come and inform her of these things not doing it anymore? Had Cassie told them not to?

Wouldn’t surprise me.

She stood, readying herself to go home. “I’ll think on it some more and get back to you.”

“You haven’t even finished your tea.”

“I don’t want it anymore. See you.”

Karen walked out, heading straight for the comfort of her own home, the large flakes of snow gnawing on her cheeks. She could think better there and not feel like the world was out to get her—or forces she couldn’t see were stopping her from moving forward. Years she’d waited for Lenny to die, and now look, his daughter had taken over, Karen less needed than she’d been before. All right, she wrote The Life and found shit out before anyone else, but even that wasn’t the case now, was it?

“Fuck’s sake.”

She stormed up her path and told herself to switch her mind from Cassie to the February Fayre, get that out of the way then make fresh plans that involved murdering Francis. She couldn’t cope with all of it at once.

A car door shut behind her, and she turned to nose at who it was.

What was Doreen doing back here? That was all Karen needed, some confrontation or other, or even just a casual chat. Her head was too full, and she needed solitude. Her nerves prickled, nettle rash all over.

“What did you do, leave something behind?” she asked, aware she sounded tired and naffed off, but it was only Doreen, so what did Karen care about offending her?

“I need to talk to you.” Doreen glanced about, spy-like, her expression displaying fear, as if she shouldn’t be in the street and couldn’t wait to leave. “In private.”

Intrigued, despite not liking the woman much, Karen opened her front door and gestured for Doreen to step inside. They stamped the snow off their shoes on the mat. In the kitchen, she flicked the kettle on, hoping her unwanted guest didn’t plan to stay long enough to drink a cuppa. Hopefully, she’d be gone by