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

them both? Why stage a break-in at your own house just to make yourself seem innocent? It was a lot of effort for a result that I couldn’t make out. Once we had Kask, though, perhaps a few things would make more sense, even more so when Abbie finally woke up.

“Seems that way. Any word from Sharp?” I asked.

“Nothing yet, sir. Smith filled her in before she left, and she’s taking care of all the bureaucratic bullshit for us.”

“Are those her words?”

“Most definitely.” There was a long pause, broken by Mills breathing loudly through his nose and saying, “I hope Dunnes is alright.”

“There was no puncture mark on his neck,” I told him. “I think Kask just knocked him out with something. Rag over the nose, leaves certain marks on a victim’s face.”

“Like what chlorophyll?”

“Knowing, Kask, his very own herbal concoction. Either way, it doesn’t look like there’s anything in his bloodstream, so he should be alright. Kask didn’t need him dead, just indisposed.” I was sure that whatever it was, it was nothing Dr Olsen couldn’t handle.

“That’s rather similar to what we said about Abbie at the beginning of all of this,” Mills pointed out. I remembered that too, back when Sonia Petrilli was our lead suspect, before she got killed. And now our other lead suspect had knocked one of our PC’s on his arse and put him in hospital and had now vanished into the wind. We weren’t exactly winning any awards for this case, the slippery thing that it had been. But Kask was going to the hospital, I was sure of it. If nothing else, we knew he’d had some contact with Abbie before. But still, that little nugget of doubt.

“Where’s Dr Quaid?” I asked aloud.

“Still at the station,” Mills told me assuredly. “And we’ve sent a few more PC’s over to the gardens just in case Kask makes a stop off there before going after Abbie.”

“So, let’s just hope we get to her before he does then,” I answered. In response, Mills hit the sirens on and sped up.

Twenty-Seven

The break-in had done its work well. To be honest, I was surprised by how well it had worked. The way the inspector and his sergeant had hovered around me, the sorry victim of such a senseless attack. I was sure that it gave them no reason to suspect me any longer for what happened to Abbie and Sonia. The only downside was the officer that now followed me about, lurching around in his uniform, following me here and there. I’d have to dodge him somehow if I was going to finish my work. My beautiful work. It was nearly done, a few more hours, and then I’d send it off to someone with a bit more leeway and authority than the bumbling Sean Quaid. And I’d be back in the game, myself and my plants changing the world without snippy Abbie and Sonia getting in my way.

I didn’t want to stay in the hotel much longer, already missing my garden and my bed, the clinical cream walls and starched sheets too unpleasant to put up with for much longer. But it wouldn’t be much longer. I left everything where it was and walked out into the hotel corridor, where my new shadow leant against a wall. He straightened up as I walked out.

“Heading to the garden again today, sir?” he asked, ever polite.

“We are.”

He nodded once and followed me from a few steps behind as I headed down to reception. Trying to give me space, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t even here. Couldn’t smother his footsteps, though, or the smell of aftershave that followed him around like a cloud. It was overbearing, his presence wherever I went. I smiled at the pretty receptionist as we left, over to where my car patiently waited. I was glad to have it, that first drive home in the police car had been intolerable, even more so since I had to sit in the back like some scummy criminal with spray paint or a stolen wallet. It was embarrassing, quite frankly.

I climbed very happily into my car, gently fragranced from the plants that I carried around in the boot. It was a relief to drive away from the hotel, to leave the city behind me as I rolled out into the wilderness. Though the police car trailing me from an inconspicuous distance didn’t offer much comfort. What a waste of police resources, I thought with a shake of my head. All that time and effort following a man who was nor more likely to be attacked than he was to learn how to fly. Ah well, that there was their problem, and my own was rapidly coming to a close. I’d fed them a few breadcrumbs to lead them towards the Picard family and hoped they’d take the bait. If not, well, I’d left them nothing to pin to me no matter what they suspected, and I’d have everything I would need by then to be long gone from the mind of the formidable Inspector Thatcher.

The sight of the hills unfurling before me was almost charming enough to make me forget about Lurch following me. Outside of the city, he didn’t need to keep so much distance, and the unmarked black car was a nasty blot on the landscape that I could not wait to be rid of. I made it home at long last, parking my car in its usual spot before the garage and headed inside, Lurch close behind me. It was still something of a mess inside, and I’d regret the broken glass if it hadn’t been so necessary. I had the kindness to make us both a cup of tea, heading out into the garden, breathing in the beautiful smells in great gulping lungfuls.

I went straight to the greenhouse, letting Lurch make himself at home on the bench a few metres away, sheltered under an ornamental tree. He pulled a thin