Deadhead and Buried

by H. Y. Hanna

  “Um, well, first I wanted to say thank you again for dinner—”

  “Oh, not at all. It was my pleasure, it was my pleasure.” He cleared his throat and added, “Ahem… I… er… I’m sorry about your cousin intruding like that. I hope you didn’t find the evening too much of an ordeal.”

  “No, no, it was fine… and I picked up a lot of gardening tips!” said Poppy, chuckling. Then she sobered and said, “Actually… speaking of Hubert, I was wondering—do you know if he and Pete Sykes were friendly?”

  “Well, they certainly knew each other, if that’s what you’re asking—whether they were close friends, I’m afraid I have no idea. Why do you ask?”

  She hesitated, then plunged in: “I think Hubert might be involved in Pete’s murder.”

  “Goodness me, Hubert? But why—”

  “I… I have this theory. I know it might sound a bit crazy but… well, I was thinking… what if… what if Hubert had been doing a deal with Pete Sykes and something went wrong?”

  “Doing a deal? I’m sorry, I don’t follow,” said Mannering, sounding completely befuddled.

  Poppy took a deep breath. “Sorry, I should have started from the other end. You know I’m staying at Nick Forrest’s house? He’s the crime author who lives next door to Hollyhock Cottage.”

  “Yes, I believe I’ve met him once and I have certainly read his books. They are remarkably good.”

  “Well, I was talking to Nick yesterday, before he left on his book tour, and he told me about some research he’s doing for his latest book. Apparently, there’s a black market trade in rare and exotic plants—you know, people smuggling plants into the country or stealing them from other gardens, and then selling them to collectors, who will pay ridiculous prices just to get their hands on a variety they want.”

  She heard Mannering make a sound of surprise and continued hurriedly, “And Pete is known for getting things from dodgy sources and selling them privately. You know, like mobile phones and things. His wife admitted it to the police.”

  “Did she indeed? But how could you know that, my dear?”

  Poppy hesitated. She didn’t feel ready to admit that she had been eavesdropping on a police interview. Mannering was a lawyer, after all, and no matter how friendly and supportive he was, she didn’t think he would approve.

  “I… uh… happened to overhear something. Anyway, the point is, smuggling rare and illegal plants is exactly the sort of thing that Pete would get involved in, right? Especially if he was working at my grandmother’s nursery. It would have provided him with the perfect cover! He would have access to plant shipments and he could hide things amongst the legitimate plants.”

  “What… what an extraordinary idea!” said Mannering.

  “Yes, and so I was thinking: Hubert probably got Pete to source illegal plants for him—like a rare snowdrop variety or something… You said he was a ‘galanthophile’, didn’t you? And they’re known for being a bit obsessive, aren’t they?” Warming to her subject, she continued earnestly, “Suppose Hubert and Pete arranged to meet at the cottage for the exchange, but suppose something went wrong—like maybe Pete asked for more money and Hubert wouldn’t give it to him, or something like that… And suppose they had an argument, and somehow Hubert ended up whacking Pete on the head with a nearby spade. Then he panicked, buried the body in the flowerbed and ran home.”

  There was silence for a long moment on the other end of the line. Now that she had voiced her theory aloud, Poppy realised how outlandish it sounded. Somehow, everything seemed a lot more plausible in her head.

  “Um… I… I realise it sounds a bit far-fetched,” she said defensively. “But it could all fit, honestly! We just need to find out a bit more about Pete’s illicit activities—whether he really was using the nursery as a cover for smuggling illegal plants and who some of his clients were—”

  “Have you told the police about this?”

  “No… not yet. I wasn’t sure they would believe me—I mean, I thought it might look better if I went to them with some kind of proof. That’s why I think we need to do some more digging and—”

  “My dear, I fear you may be right about your cousin.”

  Poppy stopped. The lawyer’s ominous tone chilled her. “What do you mean?”

  He hesitated, then said, “I hadn’t wanted to mention it as I didn’t want to distress you unnecessarily… and it may all still come to nothing… but… well, I heard a disturbing rumour from some colleagues yesterday. It seems that your cousin may be planning to contest your grandmother’s will.”

  “But… but how can he do that? I mean, the will has been executed, hasn’t it? I’ve already inherited the estate.”

  “Ah… well, claims can still be made within six months of the date the Grant of Probate was obtained. And in your case, the situation is even more complicated,” said Mannering awkwardly. “You see, because of the unusual clause in the will—the one stating that you have to keep the nursery going, if you wish to remain at Hollyhock Cottage—and because you have opted not to continue the family business, things are in a sort of limbo state until the property is sold. In a sense, the current situation makes you especially vulnerable.”

  “But… but I still don’t see how Hubert can challenge things when the will clearly states that I’m the beneficiary!”

  “Ah, well, you see, that was not the only will that Mary Lancaster made. It was her final will and testament, but she had made a prior will in which she had left the estate to her closest living relative: Hubert Leach. Now, under British law, it is possible to challenge a will if one feels that one has been unfairly disinherited; there are various grounds for this, such as showing that the will was forged or that it was not executed in the proper manner—for example, not being signed in the presence of two witnesses.”

  “But it was, wasn’t it?” asked Poppy quickly.

  “Yes, yes, there are no issues in that quarter.”

  “So then—”

  “Well, a will can also be invalidated if you can prove that the person making the will was not of sound mind, and therefore unaware of their actions—such as someone suffering from mental illness or under the influence of medication.” Mannering paused, then said sombrely, “I fear that your cousin may try to claim that your grandmother lacked testamentary capacity—that is, she wasn’t mentally capable of making a new will. If he can prove that, then he may be able to claim that the estate should be discharged as per her prior will—the one that named him as the sole beneficiary.”

  Poppy felt a cold flash of fear. “Are you saying that he could succeed? That I could be disinherited, and the estate revert to him?”

  The lawyer hesitated. “As I said, I don’t want to alarm you, my dear, but… yes, essentially, it could happen. You could lose everything.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  A wave of despair, stronger than anything she had felt before, engulfed Poppy. Lose the estate? Lose Hollyhock Cottage? The thought made her sick. She didn’t want to admit it, but a part of her had begun to think of the place as “home”. Which she knew was silly, of course. She wasn’t staying here. She was selling the cottage…

  She gasped as a second thought struck her: the money! The money from the sale of the cottage was going to be her freedom, her chance to leave her old life of constant poverty, worry, and drudgery behind. Even more than that, it was going to give her the chance to follow a dream, to find her father and completely transform her dull, meaningless life into one filled with glamour and excitement.

  And now it was being snatched away… If Hubert succeeded in contesting the will, she would have nothing. She would be back to boring, dreary Poppy with her mundane, dreary life, her dead-end job and her bullying boss—

  Wait.

  Her heart lurched as reality hit her. No, she didn’t even have that dead-end job now. Without the inheritance from her grandmother, she really had nothing: no job, no prospects, no place to live…

  “He can’t!” she said fie
rcely. “He can’t win! We have to do something. We… we have to fight him in court and—”

  “My dear, until Hubert makes an official complaint, it is best if we don’t do anything. The first rule of engagement is always to let your opponent show his cards first, then we can respond accordingly.”

  “Oh… yes… of course,” said Poppy, calming down and reminding herself that a lawyer would know best how to handle such legal challenges. She felt incredibly grateful again to have Mannering on her side. She took a deep breath, feeling her mind clear as the rush of panic left her. Hubert hadn’t won yet, she reminded herself. And she wasn’t going to let him. She was going to find a way.

  A thought occurred to her and she asked: “You said there were two witnesses to the will—wouldn’t they be able to testify that my grandmother was fine?”

  “Yes… well… that’s just the point. One of the witnesses was your grandmother’s GP and the other was Pete Sykes.” The lawyer sounded uncomfortable. “That’s why I brought this up—I mean, it had never occurred to me that Hubert might be involved in the murder. But when you mentioned your… er… ‘interesting’ theory just now, it struck me that with Sykes gone, there is only one witness left to dispute Hubert’s claims, and if that witness can be persuaded to testify that your grandmother lacked full mental capacity…”

  He trailed off but Poppy understood his meaning immediately.

  She drew her breath in sharply. “You’re saying that Hubert could have murdered Pete Sykes to get rid of one witness, so as to smooth his way to contest the will.”

  “This is all pure speculation, of course,” said the lawyer, sounding even more uncomfortable. “I must remind you that we have no proof—”

  “No, no, it all fits!” cried Poppy excitedly. “In fact, it fits even better than my silly snowdrops theory. Murdering someone for an illegal plant probably belongs more to the pages of Nick’s novels,” she admitted. “But killing them to silence them is a real reason. People will do anything when there are large sums of money involved—”

  The lawyer interrupted anxiously. “But my dear, I must remind you again—there has been no official challenge to the will yet. It was merely a rumour and I urge you to proceed with caution. You could lay yourself open to a lot of unpleasantness, not to mention a defamation suit, if you accuse Hubert of a serious crime, of which you have no evidence…”

  But Poppy was barely listening. She was thinking furiously back to the dinner at Mannering’s house and trying to remember what Hubert had said. He had definitely questioned the validity of the will—she wondered now if he had been “testing the waters” and seeing what the reaction would be. Because he must have already had his plan in place by then. He must have arranged to meet Sykes at the cottage the night before she’d arrived—although perhaps not with the initial plan to kill him. Perhaps Hubert had tried at first to persuade Sykes to support his claim regarding Mary Lancaster’s mental state, and when the gardener had refused, for whatever reason, Hubert had decided to silence him permanently instead.

  Yes, it all fits! I’ve got to find a way to prove Hubert’s the murderer, thought Poppy.

  Not only would it be bringing a criminal to justice—and releasing Bertie from suspicion—but also, if her cousin was arrested, then there would be no danger of him contesting the will. Her inheritance would be safe. The estate, the cottage, everything would be hers to do with as she wished…

  She came back to the present and became aware again of what Charles Mannering was saying:

  “…am afraid I have a meeting with a client in a few minutes. I’m sorry to have to cut this short—”

  “No, no, that’s no problem,” said Poppy quickly. “It was kind of you to listen.”

  “Not at all… and I urge you to bear in mind what I said regarding the dangers of defamation. Until your cousin makes an official claim, the best course of action is simply to wait and see, and in the meantime, I’m sure the police are continuing with the investigation—”

  “Oh! I nearly forgot!” Poppy exclaimed. “The police have someone in custody at the moment. His name is Dr Bertram Noble; he lives on the other side of Hollyhock Cottage. Sergeant Lee jumped on him and took him in for questioning, but Bertie has nothing to do with the murder! I’m not sure if he has any legal support of his own, so I was wondering—would you be able to help him?”

  “But, my dear, are you sure he has nothing to do with the murder?” Mannering asked doubtfully. “I mean, if the sergeant feels that he is worthy of investigation—”

  “No, no, Bertie is innocent. Trust me! The sergeant is just a total ars—I mean, he’s just got the wrong end of the stick.”

  “But why would the police have taken him into custody? There must be some reason,” insisted Mannering.

  “Well, okay, the murder weapon was found on his property,” said Poppy reluctantly.

  “Ah…”

  “And… and Bertie doesn’t have an alibi for the night of the murder,” Poppy continued. She knew that if Mannering was to help Bertie at all, she had to tell the lawyer everything. “Plus, there’s a gap in the wall between his garden and that of Hollyhock Cottage—a gap big enough for a man to get through.”

  She didn’t add that she herself had seen Bertie climbing furtively through the hole in the wall. As long as she kept quiet, no one had to know about that.

  “I see.”

  Poppy winced at the lawyer’s tone of voice and hurriedly added: “But that could all just be ‘circumstantial evidence’ or whatever you call it. For example, anyone could have tossed that spade over the wall into Bertie’s garden.”

  “True… but you have to see it from the police’s point of view as well, my dear,” said Mannering gently. “These are all strong coincidences which cannot be ignored.”

  He paused, then asked, his voice changing, becoming much more detached and lawyer-like, “And how well do you actually know Dr Noble? Do you know anything about his background? What he does? Where he came from?”

  “No, not really,” admitted Poppy. “I only met him the day before yesterday, actually. I think he’s some kind of inventor or something. The inside of his house looks like a school lab. He’s a bit eccentric. Okay, a lot eccentric,” she amended with a laugh. “He’s something of a mad scientist, but he’s harmless, really, and rather sweet. And I’m sure he would never murder anyone.”

  “But if you’ve only met him recently, how can you know? I’m sorry, my dear, I don’t mean to criticise your judgement, but as a lawyer, I feel compelled to point out that it is dangerous to draw conclusions when you do not have all the facts. Your friendship with Dr Noble could be making you biased. When we like someone, we automatically want to believe them to be good.”

  The lawyer’s words made Poppy uneasy and defensive, especially as she knew, deep down, that he was right. She felt a bit like a schoolgirl who had been chastised by a kindly headmaster. Mannering must have sensed her feelings because he added, in a more conciliatory tone:

  “I can certainly recommend one of my colleagues, who would have more experience in the area of criminal defence, to represent Dr Noble. That is no problem, and I would be happy to help. But I would urge you to not get involved and let the police complete their investigations as they see fit.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Poppy had barely returned Einstein to the sitting room and was just thinking about making breakfast for herself when the sound of a car outside in the lane made her hurry to the front door. Her eyes widened as she opened it and saw a police car through the iron bars of the front gate. It had come to a stop and an old man with unkempt grey hair got out of the passenger seat. Bertie!

  She rushed out and into the lane, arriving just as the elderly inventor was giving the driver a jaunty wave. He turned and began toddling towards his house, swinging a battered leather suitcase in one hand and an ancient umbrella in the other.

  “Bertie, I’m so glad the police released you,” Poppy cried, hurrying after him. “Are
you all right?”

  “Oh yes, never better, never better!” The old man beamed at her. “It was a most enlightening visit. Wonderful to have human test subjects like that. I shall have to adjust the formulation of my Laughing Gas Air Freshener slightly—it’s a bit too potent at the moment. Not much use in offices if the staff keep falling about in giggles, you know…”

  “Bertie, what about the murder? How come the police released you? Was the spade not the murder weapon after all?”

  “Oh, indeed it was—the blood matched that of the poor fellow who had been killed.”

  “So how come—”

  “Well, they tried to find my prints on the handle but there was nothing there. No prints of any sort.”

  “How can there be no prin—oh, it must have been wiped,” Poppy realised. “Or the murderer used gloves…”

  “Yes, I imagine there would be several pairs of gardening gloves lying about in that greenhouse at the back of Hollyhock Cottage. That’s where the spade came from, you see,” said Bertie.

  She looked at him, surprised. “The police told you that?”

  “Well, the detective sergeant kept asking me how I had got into the cottage. He said that since the spade was from the greenhouse, I must have had a means of entry in order to access it. Well, he didn’t quite use those words,” Bertie added, giving her a slightly disapproving look. “But I couldn’t repeat his words in front of a young lady. I’m afraid he wasn’t a very well-spoken young man.”

  “And there were no signs of a break-in when I arrived… which means that the murderer must have had keys to the cottage in order to have been able to get the spade from the greenhouse!” said Poppy, working it through out loud.

  “Yes, apparently, there is an empty space, where a tool has gone missing. And the brand and style of the spade matches several other tools in the greenhouse. Not proof, of course, but very suggestive.”