Death in an English Garden: Book Six in the Murder on Location series

by Sara Rosett

  Gil winced at the noise. “No, her thug of a boyfriend.”

  “Sylvester?” I found a dry towel and poured some of the ice in it, then put the tray back in the freezer.

  “Yeah, that’s what she called him. It was supposed to be just her. He must have been waiting for her signal.”

  I went and closed the front door then returned to his side. I squatted down in front of him. “Feeling a bit better now?”

  “One step up from death, I think.” He inched his head upright. “Okay, yeah, I’ll sit here for a few minutes more.”

  “That’s a good plan,” I said. “Here’s a cold compress.”

  He took it with a wary look in his hooded eyes. “Thanks.” He put it tentatively against his temple.

  I had slipped my crossbody bag over my shoulder when I got out of the car. I unzipped it and took out my phone. “I’ll call an ambulance—”

  He jerked upright, his hand with the towel dropping away from his face. “No.” He closed his eyes and breathed in and out a few times. “No. You can’t,” he said more slowly.

  “Okay, we’ll wait on that,” I said, scared by how his color fluctuated. He was back to the sickly pale shade. “Why shouldn’t I call for help?” I asked in an even tone.

  “Because they’ll ask questions, and I’m in a big enough mess right now. I need a few minutes to recover, that’s all. It’s why I came in here. Sorry about the window in the back door.”

  “Oh, it’s not my house. I was just dropping off some car keys for a friend, but I’ll tell him.” I kept my tone conversational. His breathing was calming down, and his face was taking on a more natural skin tone.

  I sat down on the floor, my back against the leg of the little table by the front door, afraid that if I made any sudden move, he’d react by trying to jump to his feet, and the sudden change would cause him to pass out. Maybe if we talked for a bit, he’d calm down and let me get him some medical attention. I wasn’t scared of Gil—he couldn’t even stand—but I bet he could answer some of my questions.

  “So I take it you went to meet Torrie and Sylvester tonight, and they weren’t too pleased with you.”

  He pressed the towel to his head again, squeezing his eyes shut as the fabric made contact with the lump on his temple. “Torrie,” he said through an unsteady breath. “Only Torrie was supposed to be there.”

  “About the bracelet.”

  His eyes flew open. “How did you know—”

  “You made a brief appearance in my back garden tonight. I can see now that you must have been out cold, but at the time I thought you were dead. I couldn’t find a pulse. I must not have done it right, or your pulse was so faint that I couldn’t find it. I’d make a very poor nurse. Anyway, I went off to find my phone. When I came back, you were gone.”

  “Yeah, it nearly killed me to climb that tree.”

  “You climbed the oak tree?”

  “I felt better then,” he said, his tone defensive. “I woke up and didn’t know where I was. The last thing I remembered was turning my head just enough to catch a glimpse of Sylvester as he swung something—a board or pipe or something—at my head. I was still pretty confused. I had no idea where I was, but I wasn’t about to run inside that cottage. For all I knew, Torrie and her heavy-handed friend were in there, but I wasn’t going to wait around to give Sylvester another go at me. I heard someone coming from the cottage—that must have been you, I guess—but I didn’t know that. I didn’t have enough time to get out of the garden, so I just went up the branches.”

  “In the state you’re in?” I asked. Some of the branches on that tree were pretty low. Still, it was hard to imagine Gil scrambling up them nimbly in the dark.

  “I told you, I felt better then than I do now. I mean, at first, I did. Once I got up there, the sick feeling hit me. I thought I was going to pass out again, but I kept still, and it got better. The constable came, so I settled in until he left. I stayed up there a while then got myself down, which was much harder, by the way. I needed somewhere to recover. This was the only house without lights on, so I gambled, hoping whoever lived here was away.”

  “I get the feeling you gamble a lot.”

  “Yeah, you could say that.” One corner of his mouth turned up briefly.

  “That’s what happened with the bracelet, wasn’t it?” I asked.

  He went to shake his head, but stopped abruptly and swallowed.

  I leaned forward. “I don’t think you killed Arabella. But it might be what the police think when they pick up the bracelet from the inn. Yes, they know about it.” I told him what had happened at the inn, then said, “I’ve been thinking about that bracelet, and I can’t believe that if you’d killed Arabella, you would keep something that was hers. Knowing that you like to play all the angles, I think you took it for a specific reason. Somehow, you thought you could work it to your advantage.”

  He looked at me around the edge of the towel for a moment then said, “I think I better tell you what happened in case I go out again. At least, that way one other person will know what happened. The more people who know, the better. Makes it less worth killing me, that way.” He rubbed the uninjured side of his forehead with his free hand then said, “I was gobsmacked to see Arabella like that—dead, I mean. She’d set up the meeting, and I knew she’d be alone. She’d gotten everyone out of the house except one of the security guys.”

  I nodded, thinking of the tea bags that Constable Albertson had found in the kitchen. Arabella wasn’t out of her special blend of tea. It was an excuse to get Torrie and Sylvester out of Tate House, and she’d told Chester she wanted to be alone in the garden.

  “When I found her…” He shook his head and sighed. “I thought something might go wrong with her plan, but I never expected anything like that.”

  “Her plan—that was to do with the threatening notes, right?”

  He shifted, sitting up a bit straighter. “Who’s telling this story?”

  “Sorry. Go on.”

  “The threats were part of it. She wanted me to help her make sure the word got out about the threats. Torrie didn’t like Arabella involving me. I think that’s why Arabella wanted to meet me alone.”

  That would explain Torrie’s angry reaction when I showed her the photo of Gil on the day he tried to get into Parkview. She hadn’t trusted Gil and didn’t like him being involved. No wonder Arabella had sent them away on a useless errand. “What were you meeting Arabella for?”

  “To talk about the next phase of her plan to get publicity about the threats. I’m not sure what she had in mind…she was going to tell me about it in the garden.”

  “How did you get onto the grounds of Tate House?”

  “Over the wall,” he said with a small grin. “Just like that first time when you spotted me.”

  “And you left the same way?”

  “Yep. Both times. Although, I did knock off the stones when I left that last time. I wanted out of there, so I didn’t stay to put them back. Yeah, climbing over the wall was the safest way in and out, with the cameras on the gate and the house. It was much easier getting in there than getting inside the grounds of Parkview.”

  “So the finial falling off the roof at Parkview, that was part of the plan?” I asked, thinking that if Arabella was coordinating the notes, why would she stop there? She’d probably arranged some of the dramatic near misses as well.

  “Of course. She had Torrie and one of the security guards scope it out the day before. The next day he climbed that scaffolding and tossed the piece of stone down. You mucked up that one, not letting me on the grounds. She hadn’t counted on you blocking me. So, yeah, the faulty brakes, the threats, the narrow miss—all great copy, she thought. That’s why she wanted you, too. She knew you’d been involved in that other case down in Bath and thought she could get some mileage out of that, too. You know, once the first wave of publicity had died away over the threats and ‘accidents,’ she could leak your name and say that you were involved, trying to h
elp her figure out who’d sent the threats.”

  I was literally speechless for a moment. “Of all the—that’s crazy and so…so…manipulative.”

  He began to nod, then caught himself. “Yep. She had—ah—tunnel vision on some things. Didn’t really see where things could go, you know? She thought it would help her get a part, and that was her only concern. I was happy to help her out. The money would have been good,” he said with a flash of a grin. For a second he looked like the cocky paparazzi guy who’d tried to talk his way onto Parkview’s grounds, but then his expression turned sober. “She certainly didn’t think through the money thing.”

  Chapter 28

  “THE MONEY?” I ASKED BECAUSE Gil had retreated into his own thoughts.

  He blinked and focused on me. “She thought Stevie was her biggest worry there, but I don’t know…I wonder if…”

  He seemed to drift a bit and then slumped down against the wall. “Hey, are you doing okay?” I asked. “I think it would be a good idea to get your head looked at. I could take you to a walk-in clinic.”

  “No,” he said firmly and focused on me. “Nothing like that. So…the money. Arabella took it from her ex. You know about the break-up?” I nodded, and he went on, “Arabella wanted revenge for the way he broke up with her. Once he realized she had the money, Stevie was furious. Arabella needed a place to hide out while she moved the cash. She thought Stevie wouldn’t come here, but he found her.”

  I was lost. “When did this happen? When did she take the money, I mean?”

  Gil said, “Let’s see, it would have been last week…ah, Thursday. I’m pretty sure she said it was a Thursday. Yes, it was. The woman across the hall remembered the date because she’d had her cleaning lady in that day.”

  “So Arabella stole some money from Stevie? That’s what you’re saying?”

  “Exactly. I’d been keeping a close eye on Arabella…her associates and such. I sometimes supplement my photography income gathering drips and drabs of information on celebrities.”

  “And sell it to the celebrity gossip press,” I said, understanding him perfectly. “You find the ‘close friends’ who are always quoted anonymously in the articles.”

  “Right. Sometimes it really is a friend,” he said, quickly.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Was it this time?”

  “Ah—a bit. She knows Arabella and Stevie…more of an acquaintance than a friend, if you want to be exact. She lives across the hall from what was Stevie and Arabella’s flat when they were together. She saw Arabella taking the money.”

  “So you were already working with Arabella, helping her make sure the news about the threatening notes got out when you found out she’d taken money from Stevie?”

  “Yes. It changed the scope of our arrangement, you might say.”

  He bargained for a bigger payment, I bet. “How much money did Arabella take?” I asked.

  He lifted his free hand and shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. She took what she could get her hands on. A couple million, at least. She didn’t know exactly how much. With all the different exchange rates it was kind of hard to calculate everything.”

  “Whoa, wait.” I sat forward. “Millions?”

  “Yeah, it was mostly in euros, but there were dollars and pounds as well.”

  “Why—oh, Stevie’s family,” I said thinking of what Tara had overheard. “Stevie’s not in investments, is he?”

  “Nope. He moves the money for his dad’s ‘enterprise.’ His job is to get the cash out of the country. Arabella said he usually didn’t keep cash in the flat, but they had a mix-up, and he had to bring some back. She knew it was there. She still had her key, so she went in when he was gone, loaded it up into carrier bags, and walked out with it. The neighbor could see the outlines of rectangular bundles pressed up against the side of the bags. The doorman knew Arabella, you see. No questions. No fuss. She made a couple of trips, too,” Gil said. “You have to admire the simplicity and audacity of it. She walked in and took it out in full view of everyone, bold as you please.”

  “You mean she literally carried out bags of cash, and no one said anything?”

  “That’s exactly what happened. No one would have ever known, except that on the last trip with the carrier bags, she had a run-in with a man walking his dog. There was a scuffle, and in the confusion, the neighbor saw some bundles of money. She kept quiet about it because she didn’t want the police getting too close to her, something to do with her au pair’s visa not being quite up to snuff, but with a little monetary incentive she was willing to tell me about it.”

  “I see,” I said. “And Stevie couldn’t exactly call the police and report the stolen cash.” The word Gil had used earlier, gobsmacked, described exactly how I felt. “Money. Cash,” I murmured, rearranging everything that had happened in view of this new bit of information, which finally answered the question about why Arabella had been killed. That sort of cash would certainly give everyone in Arabella’s orbit a motive.

  “Arabella called it the perfect crime,” he said, his tone flat. “It wasn’t perfect, though. Someone killed her for it. It wasn’t me,” he said. “I took the bracelet, but I didn’t kill her.”

  We’d come full circle, back to the bracelet. I put aside thoughts about stacks of cash and focused on Gil and the bracelet. “I still don’t understand why you took the bracelet.”

  He looked a little shamefaced. “After I saw that she was dead…well, I knew that they hadn’t moved all the money. Some of it was still around. That bracelet was the key. Arabella said that once. She didn’t trust Torrie, not completely. I knew Arabella had the money stashed somewhere that Torrie couldn’t get to. Since Arabella never let the charm bracelet out of her sight, I figured Torrie would need it to get to the money. If I had the bracelet, I could get my money. Arabella hadn’t paid me. That was the only way I’d get anything,” he said, his tone defensive.

  I wasn’t about to argue with him about the pros and cons of his plan—obviously, it hadn’t worked out too well for him. He could see that as well as I could. “You really need to talk to Inspector Quimby,” I said. “Tell him the whole story.”

  “Right. I have zero proof they stole the money. Arabella was shuttling it out of here as fast as she could, and I’m sure Torrie is doing the same. Obviously, they figured out how to get to the cash since they didn’t wait to get it from me before bashing me on the head. Once the police have that bracelet and realize I was involved in the threats…”

  He looked like he was going to be sick, so I said quickly, “But then how did you get that injury and how did you end up in my back garden? They can’t discount those things either.”

  “That is weird,” he drew himself away from the wall and sat up straight. “Why did they dump me there?”

  “To implicate me. It’s a little campaign they have going on. You’re just the latest attempt to make sure the police focus on me. They had to wait until it was dark and the path was deserted before they put you in my garden and called the police with a story about a disturbance.”

  “So I’m a pawn. What a lowering thought. You never see yourself as a bit player, only the star.”

  “Are you kidding? You’re the only person who can explain this whole situation. You have to talk to Inspector Quimby. Explain everything to him. I’ll back you up. I’ll tell him about finding you in my back garden and everything.” I still had my phone in my hand, and I held it out to him.

  “No. That’s not a good idea.” His face took on a stubborn cast as he pushed the phone away. “No chats with the police. You know everything. You can pass it on. I’m leaving for somewhere warm and sunny and Third World. This has worked out better than I thought. Now I’m not the only person who knows about Torrie and Sylvester, which lessens the effectiveness of killing me—very important to me—and it will let you give all the details to the authorities. I won’t get my money, but I’ll be alive. That’s all that matters at this point.”

  “You’ll be sa
fer if you tell them everything.”

  “No. Not happening,” he said shortly. “But I do think I might be able to stand up. He gripped the doorframe and slowly stood. “Okay, not so bad. I think I will sit down for a moment, though.”

  I’d hopped up and had been holding my arms out in case he suddenly went down, but he didn’t sway. He walked carefully to the kitchen table and pulled out a chair. “Is there any more ice?”

  “A few cubes.” I stuck my phone in my pocket and took the towel from him. I went to the sink and shook out what was left of the tiny cubes then opened the freezer.

  The chair scraped on the floor. I thought Gil had gotten dizzy and fallen out of the chair, but that wasn’t what happened at all. By the time I’d turned around, he was pulling open the front door.

  As I raced to the door, a car engine revved. I was in time to see Gil circle the wheel of the MG and gun it.

  Chapter 29

  I RAN DOWN THE STEPS and stopped at the gate. The only sign of Alex’s car was two red taillights getting smaller and smaller by the second. I gripped the rough wood of the gate as I waited for the little car to reappear at the base of the hill. Cottage Lane was built on a rise that gave me a view of the village. The MG barely paused before turning onto the high street, but he didn’t take the route to the inn. Instead, he crossed the bridge and headed for the main road, the road that would take him away from Nether Woodsmoor to Upper Benning.

  I pulled my phone out of my pocket and scrolled through the contact list until I found the inn’s phone number. The phone rang several times, then I got an automated message with their regular business hours and instructions to leave a message. “Tara, this is Kate. I just saw Gil. I don’t think he’s on his way back to your place, but I suppose he could loop around…sorry, I’m not making any sense. Just be careful, if he does show up. I think you better call the police if you see him.”