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

“Impressive,” he said, looking through the windows to the gardens outside. Row upon row of flowers and plants led all the way down the long garden, interspersed with trees and shrubs. It was far tidier than the botanical gardens, far neater than Abbie’s own garden. There were poly tunnels over some of the bed, long climbers and wooden obelisks, small greenhouses tucked into corners, and compost bins pushed to one side.

“Are you gardeners?” Kask asked, looking outside with us.

“Afraid not,” I answered. “It is very impressive.”

“Would you like to look around while we talk?” Kask unlocked the conservatory door. “I find it’s better to walk while such conversations are had.”

Mills and I exchanged a look, happy enough with this familiar set up and followed him outside, strolling along the worn-down path between the beds. Mills sneezed behind me, and I paused, looking back as he fished a tissue from his pocket. He waved me on, and I walked beside Kask, happy to take the lead as Mills reigned in his allergies.

“We understand that you used to work with Sonia Petrilli and Abbie Whelan,” I began. “Over at the botanical research gardens.”

“My goodness,” Kask sighed. “That feels like a lifetime ago. Eight years it must be now,” he added.

“Can I ask why you left?”

“The study we were working on,” he told me, running his hands through a bed of herbs. “It didn’t go all that well, and when it got stopped, the girls were both so devastated. I thought it was for the best,” he told me. “Decided I’d rather put my attention back into actually gardening, you know. The whole, drug side of things, it wasn’t me. Not really.”

I nodded along. “What exactly was the study?” I asked. “We know it had something to do with finding a drug for immune diseases.”

“That’s right. You’ll forgive me, Inspector. My memory’s fickle, and I don’t remember all that much about the gritty details.”

“Do you remember having protestors standing against it? Receiving threats.”

Kask paused where he stood, looking out over his garden. “Not any to me, but I remember the girls mentioning some. I was just the plant man, Inspector.”

I nodded, and we walked along quietly for a bit longer. I glanced over my shoulder to Mills, who was frowning down at a bed of flowers.

“When was the last time you saw either of them?” I asked Kask. “Sonia or Abbie?”

“I’m afraid we really went our separate ways after that. I came out here,” he held his arms out to the hills that rolled out in the horizon. “I got in touch after Abbie had her child, paid her a little visit, naturally. But I’m afraid other than the optimistic love of plants a few out of university kids had, there was little to keep us together. I was sorry to hear of everything that’s happened, though,” he added mournfully. “Sonia didn’t deserve that. Nor Abbie. Is there any news on her?” He asked.

“She’s still in the coma,” I told him. He nodded, as if expecting that answer.

“Perhaps I should visit her,” he said, strolling along again, his hands looped behind his back. “She’s got no family after all, except for her sister. Oh, she was a wild card,” he added with a laugh.

“She’s grown up now,” I told him, feeling defensive over Paige. “She’s a terrific aunt.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he answered. “Those Whelan girls were nothing if not loyal.” I watched his face as he spoke, a slight dark tone to his words. I wondered if he was another who didn’t particularly like Abbie or her little sister. Before I could ask, his phone rang, and he apologetically dug it from his pocket. “Forgive me, Inspector. It’s my mother.”

“No problem,” I assured him, walking back over to Mills while he answered. Isaac had his notebook out and was scribbling down some things when I reached him, his eyes and nose pink, and he sniffed loudly.

“Perhaps we should have conducted this in the kitchen,” I remarked as he put his notebook away, only to sneeze violently into his tissue.

“Perhaps,” he agreed. “Anything?” He asked, nodding over to Kask, who paced back and forth on the phone.

“Nothing much. He’s untied himself from that world,” I told him. “I think we’ll be relying on whatever Abbie and Sonia have left from that study.”

“He didn’t have any threats?” Mills asked, blinking his eyes like he’d just come out from a swimming pool.

“Nope. But Lin Shui and her brother remembered his name for some reason,” I added, looking towards the man again. He had put his phone away and was striding over to us now, a concerned look on his face.

“You must forgive me, chaps. My mother called. Apparently, my dad has had some sort of fall. I’ve got to run.”

“Certainly,” I answered, and we followed him quickly back through the house. He stopped by a small table in the hall and pulled out a business card.

“I’d be happy to answer some more of your questions, Inspector. Just give me a call.”

“Thank you, Mr Kask. I hope your dad is okay,” I added as Mills, and I strode out towards the car. He left a moment after us, locking up the front door and running over the car by the garage. I started the engine and quickly got out of his way, watching as we headed down the road and he skirted off further into the hills.

“I know you said you wanted to go back to the city for lunch,” Mills said, wiping at his stinging eyes as I looked away from where Kask’s car vanished into the distance. “But we might need to make a stop.” I looked at his sorry face and nodded, unable to shake that there was something about Kask that hadn’t added up right.

Seventeen

Mills

Thatcher kindly made a stop at a little roadside café that we passed so that I could clean myself up in the bathroom. I left him at a table, ordering for