Delphiniums and Deception

by Ruby Loren

  “Then what do we do?” Jack said, looking from me to Fergus with wide eyes.

  “We start asking questions,” Fergus said saying the first sensible thing I’d heard from him so far today. “We’ve got two more days before we can get out of here. The main thing now is to keep ourselves safe, in case it is a homicidal maniac. Diana thinks there’s a motive for this murder, so we should probably figure out what it is. At the very least, if we find one, it will let us know that the rest of us probably aren’t in any danger.”

  “Are you going to try to solve the crime? My dad always said you were a really good investigator. You should take the case! The scene of the crime won’t be fresh when the police do arrive. Plus, someone could easily tamper with the evidence before then.” Jack’s eyes were shining again.

  “I suppose I could give it a whirl…” Fergus said thoughtfully.

  I cleared my throat. “Tampering with evidence is a bad idea.” Not that I’d been excellent at following that rule in the past. But those had been an entirely different set of circumstances! The glint in Fergus’ eye hinted he was thinking the same thing. Fergus and I shared a secret that neither of us could ever tell.

  “I wouldn’t be tampering with it. I’d be looking at it. Diana, you’re a scientist, what do you see in front of you?” Fergus held out his hands, full of drama.

  “I see a mess that’s best left for the police,” I replied, a trifle primly. Fergus kept his hands outstretched and my eyes caught on something sticking out from underneath the bed. I reached down and gingerly drew out a hastily tied posy of wilted snapdragons. Their peach petals looked sad and unloved and I could tell they’d been without water for a while. However, it wasn’t enough to cover up the fact that something had been written in a slim marker pen on the back of the delicate petals. I squinted at the wilting plant and could just make out one remaining word - Harving. If there had been more writing originally, I couldn’t make it out.

  I placed the flowers on the nightstand and heard my foot crunch on something on the floor. Looking down, I discovered an ornate hair pin with a jewel flower was lying there.

  “Hey, look…” Fergus was bent down by the bed with a finger extended. I followed where he was pointing and discovered there was a medical bracelet on the floor - the kind you have if you’re allergic to something, or need special care should anything happen to you.

  “I don’t believe it,” I said, looking from the medical bracelet to the hair pin and then back to the snapdragons.

  “What’s up?” Jack asked.

  “It’s all too convenient,” I explained. “Someone has been murdered, and now we’re finding clues all over the place. This feels far too much like a set up.”

  “Maybe the murderer made some mistakes?” Jack suggested, but I wasn’t willing to believe it was that easy.

  I wrinkled my nose, finally becoming aware of a bitter scent that had been on my periphery for a while. “What is that?” I muttered and followed the scent over to the smashed cup of tea. I sniffed and thought I could smell chai tea mixed with something I couldn’t identify. The bag was full of twigs and bits, but I believed that was just the way chai looked.

  “Does anyone know if there’s any herbal tea in the kitchen cupboards?” I asked.

  “Nope, nothing like that. There’s just English Breakfast, green tea, and filter coffee,” Fergus said with confidence. I threw him a questioning look. “When you were settling into the room yesterday, I went looking in case I needed a snack later,” he explained.

  “I suppose someone could have brought their own tea bags with them,” I mused.

  “Look at the time!” Jack said, bringing his hands up to his face. “We’ve got to start the challenges for the day, or we won’t finish in time!”

  Fergus and I looked at him.

  “Jack, someone’s been murdered. Continuing with the course is…” I started to say.

  “…essential!” Jack said, paling a little. “We have to carry on. This whole thing is designed to create a high pressure, high risk, high reward learning environment in order to stimulate the formation of new neurological pathways.”

  Fergus looked blank.

  “He means bad things are going to happen if we don’t finish the course,” I translated.

  Jack nodded.

  We walked out of the room containing Christine’s corpse. I silently pocketed the hair pin, which I’d trodden on anyway. I noticed Fergus palm the medical bracelet. It would appear that despite what we’d said about obvious clues and not tampering with the evidence, neither of us were willing to let it drop so easily.

  “Is Christine really dead?” Rich asked once we were outside and in the midst of the gathered group, who’d all been waiting outside of the room.

  “It’s true,” I told them. “It would appear that she has been murdered. There are several wounds to her back and no sign of the weapon that inflicted them. If everyone could keep their eyes open for something that could be used to make a round puncture wound, that would be great.” I used my finger and thumb to indicate the approximate size of the implement used.

  “Murdered?” Duncan reached out to clutch his wife’s shoulders. “I thought no one could get in here? How has she been murdered?”

  “Diana thinks one of us did it,” Rich said, looking at me with quiet amusement. I wasn’t sure what he found funny about the situation. Surely he had to know that he was suspect number one?

  There was a stunned silence. Everyone markedly moved away from everyone else.

  “I must have been the one to see her last. I, uh, knocked on her door because I wanted to tell her how much of an inspiration she was to me. I’m a nobody when it comes to garden design. Christine is such an icon,” Tanya muttered.

  “What time was that?” I asked.

  “Oh, heavens! Probably about ten? She wasn’t that happy to see me, if truth be told, but she was alive.” Tanya bit her lip. “I should have known. She was brilliant, but she had a reputation for not sharing any of her secrets with anyone.”

  People were still backing away from one another. I decided someone had to intervene. “There is no need for anyone to panic. At the moment, the best course of action is to follow the instructions of our guides. Jack has informed us that we must continue with these challenges, or face some pretty bad consequences. It’s the way this course has been designed. Unfortunately, with no contact with the outside world, there is nothing we can do to avoid continuing.”

  “We’re already late,” Jack chimed in, looking desperately at Lorna, who was still a greenish colour.

  We all heard the alarm sound in the food hall. A voice boomed out over hidden speakers. “The early bird gets the worm! The late flower arranger gets a lesson about flower-choice…”

  “What?!” Eamon said before everyone clamped their hands over their noses. The most terrible, pungent smell had suddenly wafted through the living quarters.

  “What is that?” Bella managed before clamping her hand over her mouth, too. Apparently you could taste it as well as smell it.

  “That is the potent scent of the corpse lily, or Rafflesia arnoldii,” the hidden voice announced. “This particular flower uses its pungent scent to draw flies and insects that usually lay their eggs in rotting materials. The scent mimicry tricks the insects into pollinating the plant, thus continuing its survival. It is very unlikely that you will come across any members of this distinctive genus of flowers during your future flower arranging, but I hope this will serve as a reminder that scent matters. Always consider your flowers and the scents they will create. Not all blooms smell sweet.”

  “The first challenge! We’ve got to go,” Jack said, and then looked like he might be about to be sick.

  No one argued when he and Lorna led the way into a room leading off the food hall and slammed the door behind us. Cool, clear air suddenly filled the space and everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief. It was only then that I realised half of the group were still dressed in pyjamas. I was
wearing the same clothes I’d worn yesterday- having gone to bed in them after learning Fergus was sharing my room.

  There was no time to dwell on it as the screen flashed on and we were greeted by Emilia’s smiling face. “Good morning everyone! I trust you slept well and enjoyed the breakfast of local produce? All sourced from a farm just down the road from here,” she said, so inappropriately it was unreal. I could almost hear the sounds of stomachs grumbling as we all collectively realised we’d skipped breakfast. I hoped there’d be a coffee break.

  Today we will be focusing on your seasonal knowledge of flowers and foraging. A lot of you will be familiar with imported blooms, but did you know that many fantastic flowers and foliage can be found on our very own British Isles? All you have to keep in mind is seasonality and sustainability. In this first challenge, you will be presented with a menu of flowers. As a group, you must pick all of the flowers which are in season in the UK during the month of March. Only when you have selected all of the flowers will the door open and the challenge be complete. You may use the reading material in this room to help you, but this challenge is about shared knowledge. Work together to discuss choices and I’m sure you’ll succeed. Make a wrong choice…” Emilia smiled a little ruefully. “…and you’ll discover a flower arranger’s bane. Good luck!” Her smiling face faded and in its place was a screen full of images of flowers and their latin and common names listed below.

  "There must be a hundred of them!” Bella said, voicing everyone's thoughts aloud.

  “How about we start by discussing the ones we already know?” I suggested, deciding that someone should step up. “We are looking for flowers that bloom in March. I know that primroses, Queen Anne’s lace, and lily of the valley are all spring blooms and would definitely be around during March. Are we all in agreement?” Most of the group nodded. When no one contradicted me, I stepped forwards and tapped the three flower icons. They disappeared with a cheerful ‘bing’.

  “Well done!” a congratulatory voice said each time.

  “I know a few…” Lady Isabella added before quietly saying her suggestions. After some brief discussion, these, too, were tapped and disappeared. Next, Sylvia contributed, as did the rest of the group. Bella surprised me by being adamant about paphiopedilum orchids - something I hadn’t even heard of prior to now. Neither had anyone else, but she was certain that she’d always seen them flowering right before Easter when she’d been a child running round her grandma’s greenhouse. We’d held our breaths when she’d pressed the exotic looking icon, but there’d been the familiar bing and ‘well done’.

  “Looks like we might have some research to do,” Eamon reluctantly acknowledged as we all looked at the remaining icons on the screen. We’d made some good progress but there was still a large number of images on the screen. I had a feeling this challenge had been designed with some tricky flowers to throw even those with a lot of prior experience. We all dutifully walked over to the corner of the room and selected some likely looking books. Soon, everyone was reading whilst raising their heads to occasionally check their findings against the board.

  Everyone apart from Fergus.

  “Don’t!” I warned when I saw exactly what he was about to do.

  “How hard can it be…” he muttered and selected a picture at random.

  The cheery voice said “Well done!”

  Fergus grinned and tried again.

  This time his choice flashed red and a warning siren sounded, loudly alerting the group to what one of their number had just done.

  “Whoops!” Fergus said, shrugging his shoulders with a guilty grin on his face. With a sudden ‘whoosh’ sound an entire bucket of glitter was emptied through the grate directly above where he was standing, just in front of the screen. For a moment, everyone marvelled at the gold and sparkly figure in front of them. Fergus coughed and spat some glitter out. “Probably should have kept my mouth closed…” he muttered, looking down at himself.

  In spite of the traumatic events of the morning, I found myself grinning. “Glitter… a flower arranger’s bane. That’s clever.”

  “They used adhesive,” Fergus complained, trying and failing to brush the stuff off himself. “I’m going to stay glittery until we can get back to the showers.”

  “Let that be a lesson to you,” Lady Isabella airily commented, whilst still browsing one of the books. I raised my eyebrows at Fergus. I wasn’t the only one who thought he was behaving like an ass.

  “When are we going to discuss what happened to poor Christine?” Eamon broke the silence when we’d all ground to a halt on our flower research and the door still hadn’t opened.

  “What is there to discuss? She’s dead. We can’t do anything for her,” Rich said with a shrug so casual I immediately wondered if he’d seized the opportunity to get rid of a boss he didn’t like. He looked over at me and silently shook his head, his grin growing wider. He knew what I was thinking.

  “Yes, but someone here probably killed her. That’s the consensus, isn’t it?” Eamon continued, regarding Rich with the same suspicion I felt.

  “We don’t know that for sure, someone could have broken in,” Rich suggested, playing devil’s advocate.

  “They can’t…” Jack started to say even as Rich continued.

  “…Or someone else is in here with us. We’re not allowed free run of the bunker. Who knows who might be creeping around? Perhaps this was a set-up all along for some twisted person to pick us all off one by one whilst we’re here completely cut off from the world.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “It would be like hunting heaven for a serial killer.”

  There was a shocked silence.

  “I think it’s far more likely that there is a personal motive for this murder. One we don’t yet know,” I said, hoping to stop this runaway train before it picked up speed. Hysteria was the last thing we needed on a ‘high stakes’ course where working together was the key. The course creator had already made us risk food poisoning on the first day. I suspected things were only going to get worse.

  “What motive could someone possibly have for killing her? We’ve only known each other for a day! Apart from Rich.” Eamon looked speculatively at the young PR man again.

  Rich picked an imaginary spot of dirt from his fingernails. “Trust me, I’d have killed her long ago if I’d decided I wanted to be done with my boss. The pay packet made her worth putting up with, but I’d be the first to admit that she wasn’t easy to get along with. Christine got where she was by being ruthless and having an angle no one else had. I wouldn’t like to be in her shoes, should there be any moral reckoning in the great beyond.” Rich shrugged his shoulders. “But that just means she had enemies. Maybe one of them is here right now and hiding it from us. I still think it’s a psycho. This whole course is pretty messed up, isn’t it? Who’s to say someone didn’t plan this whole thing to take us all out? This weirdo might love violence. Stabbing one of us dead whilst we were sleeping could be how this guy gets his fun.”

  “Christine wasn’t actually stabbed to death. Or at least… she was already dead when the stabbing happened,” I said, deciding to share something I’d observed in the hopes that it might shock the truth out of someone in the group.

  Everyone stared at me.

  “She was poisoned. It’s been bugging me ever since I smelled something bitter in her room. I thought it could be the cup of herbal tea that got smashed, but there isn’t any tea of that kind in the cupboards here. And the bitter smell suggests poison - and a natural one at that.”

  “She could have brought her own tea with her. It could have already been poisoned by someone before this course,” Bella suggested, expanding on my own thoughts from earlier.

  “You could be right, but I think there is more than enough evidence that suggests that this crime was committed by someone here, or someone who has access to us. The most obvious thing is that someone stabbed her - perhaps believing that they were killing Christine, or just making sure she was really dea
d. But the writing on the petals of a wilted bunch of snapdragons I found under her bed is more indicative - especially as they were the same kind of snapdragons we were working with yesterday.”

  “You saw writing on a flower?” Duncan looked baffled, and he wasn’t alone.

  “It was a name. That, too, had taken some thinking about before I’d remembered why it sounded familiar. The name was Harving.” I looked up and saw recognition echo round the group. Everyone had heard of Elliot Harving - whether they were interested in floriculture or not.

  “Wasn’t he the designer that died at Chelsea?” Fergus said, screwing his face up at the memory.

  “It was a terrible accident,” Tanya commented, looking saddened. “I was working on a different garden at the show on that day, but everyone there knew about it.”

  Fergus looked thoughtful. “The way I heard it, it might not have been an accident at all. There were claims that the whole thing was an act of sabotage.”

  Trust Fergus to know the conspiracy theory version, I silently thought.

  “Sorry, but what happened?” Duncan asked, looking around the room at all the grave faces.

  It was Tanya who answered his question. “Elliot Harving was an up and coming designer. He was tipped to take gold during his first ever year at Chelsea Flower Show in the show garden category. The centrepiece of his design, which I believe was entitled ‘A Rust for Life’, was this big aged steel sculpture. His whole garden was full of scrap metal. It just blended so well with his plant choices…” She shook her head at the memory. “When people went to see it for the first time at an exclusive pre-judging viewing the sculpture collapsed. I think witnesses said that Elliot saved a lot of people. He saw it start to fall and ran at the crowd, telling them to get back. No one else was seriously hurt, but the sculpture crushed Elliot. The entire nation of gardeners mourned his loss.”

  “People were arrested for it, weren’t they? Wasn’t it the sculptors themselves who were found negligent?” Sylvia chirped up. There were sounds of agreement.