Gardners, Ditchers, and Gravemakers (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 4)

by Oliver Davies

  “Fine,” she relented. “But if my sister gets hurt again, Inspector, it’s you I’m killing.”

  “Fair enough,” I answered. She grumbled and passed the phone back to the constable. “We won’t be long,” I told him, hanging up a second later. I trusted Paige to get Grace somewhere safe, and with all the officers that would be floating around the hospital, I only hoped that Kask wasn’t stupid or desperate enough to try anything. At least, not until we got there.

  Mills ran back over to me, and we jumped in the car.

  “Smith’s ETA is fifteen minutes,” he said after glancing quickly at his phone, tossing it to one side and snapping his seatbelt into place, firing the engine up and peeling away from the house.

  “Good. I spoke to Paige,” I told him. “She said that Grace recognised him as the man who spoke to Abbie.”

  “So, he’s got even more of a reason to see her off,” Mills muttered. I nodded, wondering what Kask would have gone to her about. Did he want to get back into the research? Did he want to do something about the events of eight ago and Jordan Picard? Abbie must have refused it, whatever it was, sent him packing. Maybe Sonia had too. This couldn’t only be about the research. If it was, why kill 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 book from his pocket and settled down with his face towards me, seemingly quite content to while away a few hours there. Good for him. I had more pressing matters to attend to.

  The research was nearly complete, the success of it already filling me up with excitement. It worked, very beautifully, the second time round anyway. Measurements weren’t always easy, and there was always some learning curve to this. At least now I had perfected it, made something that the two of them never could. I wondered if it would impress her. Maybe she’d be awake when I got back to her. Maybe we could have a nice chat about her mistakes and my brilliance, let her see just how ignorant she was about it all before I finished what she had never even dreamed of starting.

  I settled myself down at my workstation, pulling up the documents and getting them all into shape. Dotting all the I’s and crossing all the T’s. I double-checked some formulas, made sure all of my equations and measurements were correct, and after a few hours, my tea long gone, I sat back with a triumphant smile. Success. Now all that was left was getting it to the right person. There was an old boy down at Royal Kew who knew a thing or two about this sort of work. I wasn’t sure if he’d know my name, but I’d enjoy finding out what he made of it. I tracked down his email, still amongst the long list of contacts I had gathered in throughout my career, and fired it over, sitting back and spinning my chair in slow, idle circles.

  Things were working out very well, indeed. Only one last thing to do, and then I would have clear seas ahead for the rest
of my, soon to be illustrious, career.

  I stood up from the desk, cracking my knuckles, and headed over to the back of the greenhouse, pushing back the lid to the array of equipment I’d kept where Lurch wouldn’t get a peek of it. The plant was surviving well enough, though as much as it pained me to admit, I’d never been able to keep them thriving as well as Whelan could. It was a thorn in my side that she was better than me, but it wouldn’t be there much longer.

  My little concoction was effective, but it didn’t keep very well and the fresher it was, the better. And for Miss Abigail Whelan, only the best would do. I’d made that mistake the first time around but would not be doing so again. Before I got to work, I looked over my shoulder to Lurch, who was still sitting on the bench, basking in the fresh air, looking completely none the wiser.

  Perfect.

  I got to work, grinding, measuring, stirring. The smell of the plants and the chemicals filled the greenhouse, and I cracked open a window at the back to let some of it out. As with all good, brilliant things, it took time. It was a process, a hard-won endeavour that not just any old hack could stumble across. After another hour or so, I left it stewing on the Bunsen burner and stepped out through the backdoor for some fresh air. Lurch’s voice mumbled across the garden quietly, and I crept around towards the front to listen. He was on the phone and had stood up, practically standing to attention in fact, not that whoever he was on the phone with would know that. He was at the tail end of the conversation, and I crept along through the ivy at the back of the greenhouse, trying to make out what he was saying.

  “Is there trouble, sir?” he asked in his gruff voice.

  Sir? Must be DCI Thatcher. Trouble with what, though? Did they think I was in danger, or that I was the danger? I wasn’t particularly keen on finding out. PC Dunnes lowered the phone from his face, looking down at it with a slight frown. Then he lifted his gaze over the greenhouse and cleared his throat, tugging at his collar, and I watched as he straightened himself up and watched where I was working with far more attention than he had before. His hand hovered by his belt, where a set of handcuffs were clipped, and I didn’t like the sight of that. Nor of his intense stare and the way he squared his shoulders back, for all intents and purposes looking ready for a fight. I sighed quietly; I’d never really been much of one for a fight.

  I made my way back into the greenhouse, where my genius was ready. I carefully loaded my needle up and stuck it in its case, which I then dropped into my coat pocket that was still slung over the back of my chair. I couldn’t take Lurch with me, and from the way he was watching the greenhouse, I couldn’t very well slip past him either. I reached into one of my cupboards, fiddling through the various tins and bottles until I found the small blue one that I was looking for. I fished through a drawer for a spare bit of cloth and, holding it away from my face, doused the cloth and put the bottle back. I then “fell” back against a desk and let out a yelp that brought the thundering footsteps of Lurch to the greenhouse.

  “Alright in there, Kask?” He called from the doorway, not looking all that keen to walk in.

  “I’m hurt!” I called back in the same scared little voice I’d given them at the station. “My ankle.”

  He wandered over, hesitantly looking down at me, a funny look on his face like he wasn’t sure what to do.

  “I think I might have dislocated it,” I panted, holding a trembling hand up towards him. Dunnes sighed and walked closer, bending down to grab my hand in his. I gripped his sleeve tightly, ignoring the look of surprise on his face as I yanked him closer and pressed the rag to his face, climbing up and around to stand behind him, pressing it tightly to his face. He was strong, and he struggled against me, fumbling with his hands, but eventually, he breathed in nice and deep, and his hulking body started to sag. I let him go where he was, slumped against the wall and looked down at him, slightly sorry.

  “You’re just the way, lad,” I told him. “Be grateful you’ll only wake up with a headache.”

  I tucked the rag into my pocket, I didn’t know when it might come in handy again, and pulled my coat on. One last hurrah, and then my work was all done.

  I left Dunnes there, leaving the door ajar so that he wouldn’t die of fumes, I wasn’t that cruel, and walked through the house, making sure all of my doors and windows were firmly locked before striding out to the car. It was nice to be driving without him following me, and I relished my little freedom as I headed regrettably away from home, back down the lanes and roads to the ugly city.

  I hated it at this time of year. Tourists swarmed around, getting in the way and slowing everything down. School children were left to run amuck and cause mischief. But perhaps, I shouldn’t grumble too much. Today, the busy streets and buildings would be in my favour, after all. I didn’t park at the hospital, the prices they charged were inhuman, and I wasn’t quite that stupid. I parked a few streets away, on a quiet little street and made the pleasant walk over, strolling along in the sun and the singing birds. A lovely day, a very lovely day. I wouldn’t let it go to waste now.

  As I rounded the corner to the hospital, I saw a few police officers outside, pacing around before the doors. Oh, dear. That might be a problem. A distraction then, I was smart enough to think up one of those. I looked around me, looking for something of use, my eyes falling on the crumbling stone wall behind me. That’ll do.

  I dislodged one of the loose stones, ducked behind a tree, and sent the stone hurtling towards a car, where it neatly smashed into the windscreen and set the alarm wailing. It got their attention, and one of them came jogging over to it, the others milling further out into the carpark, hands on their radios, scanning around. A small family made their way towards the doors and followed after them, my head bent, feet dragging, using their little cluster to get past the policemen and into the hospital.

  Now then, where, oh, where would she be?

  They’d never tell me, I knew that much. I doubted anyone could get into her room, really, but it shouldn’t be too difficult to work out. I popped into the gift shop and bought some flowers, an unhealthy, gaudy bouquet to keep my face hidden as I perused the wards.

  Nobody stopped me. That was the thing about a hospital as busy as this. If you act like you’re meant to be there, nobody stops you. I checked a few floors with no luck and was starting to grow annoyed. And then, from out a corridor, came two vaguely familiar faces. I ducked back as Abbie’s little sister, not so little anymore, walked along with a little girl holding her hand. The one and only Grace. She was cute, it was almost a shame, but she seemed to be in safe hands. Paige’s face was drawn, and her eyes shot from place to place nervously as she shepherded Grace along.

  Once they’d gone, I moved towards the hallway they’d come from, following it along for a while until there, a nice new Lurch stood watch outside a door. He checked his watch occasionally, waiting for somebody, it seemed. I debated what to do next. I couldn’t get in past him, and I didn’t particularly want to try. I wondered if he knew my face, probably did. They always seem to know everything. I wasn’t sure how legal it all was, really. He turned around to the room suddenly, looking in through the window, and pulled his radio to his mouth hurriedly. And as he talked, he turned around, looking down the other side of the hallway. Now was my chance. I pulled the rag from my pocket, checking the deserted hallway quickly and ran over to him, looping my arm around his neck and clasping it to his face, praying and muttering that it would work. After a struggle, not unlike his fellow Lurch, his knees gave in. I lowered him to the chair, hoping that to a passer-by, he’d look like he was just taking five and turned myself to the door. Through the little window, I saw what had caught his interest. I pushed the door open and locked it behind me, walking over to the bed as Abbie Whelan’s open eyes focused on me, addled and confused.

  “Toomas?” she asked in a croaky voice.

  I smiled at her, pulling the needle from the pocket. “Hello, Abbie.”

  Twenty-Eight

  T
hatcher

  My heart beat wildly in my chest, partly thanks to Mills” driving, but mostly from anticipation. I gripped my phone tightly in my hand, my legs bouncing beneath me. I was keen to get to the hospital as soon as we could. With the sirens whirring, the busy streets parted for us, and thanks to that and Mills” mad driving, we were back in the city quickly. I clipped a radio to my jacket and grabbed a set of handcuffs, making sure we had all bases covered before getting to the hospital. I hoped that Paige had heeded my word and taken Grace somewhere safe.

  As we made our way through the city, I bent my mouth down to the radio.

  “This is Thatcher. Any sign of him?”

  “No sign, sir,” came a muffled, crackling response. I couldn’t quite make out who it was. “We had a disturbance out in the car park, though. Someone smashed a car window.”

  “Did anyone see who?” I asked with a frown.

  “No, sir. But we’ve sent Waters over to cover it while we stay put.”

  “Good. And inside?”

  “No word from inside, sir. The hospital has restricted access to the hallway, so there won’t be any civilians milling about.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief. “Good work. We’ll be there in five,” I told him, figuring out where in the city we were as Mills whirled us through the streets.

  “Roger that, sir.”

  The radio went quiet, and I clung to my seat as Mills deftly dodged some groups of tourists that wandered along the wide roads and clipped the kerb in the process.

  “I would quite like to get to the hospital in one piece, Isaac,” I told him through clenched teeth. He gave a short, dry laugh, and eased up slightly as he took us down the road to the hospital, swooping into a space to park.