Read Online The Garden Plot by Marty Wingate - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marty Wingate
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into the room, his attention on the Wilsons. Pru tried to blend into the scenery, staying near the door, hoping to hear more that would help her understand what had happened.
“Mr. Wilson, what time did Mr. Pendergast leave yesterday evening?” Pearse asked.
“It was just before seven, I believe. We were getting ready for dinner.”
“More of a tea than dinner,” Mrs. Wilson cut in. “Really, after getting ready for my luncheon yesterday, I didn’t have a moment to cook. And Mary had left some cold chicken for us.”
“Who is Mary?” Pearse asked.
“Mary comes in a few mornings a week to help out, but I’m always here. She doesn’t have a key,” Mrs. Wilson explained.
Pearse turned back to Mr. Wilson. “Did you know Mr. Pendergast was comingback to the house? Did you have any contact with him later yesterday evening or early this morning?”
“I didn’t see him again.” Mr. Wilson looked out at the shed, not at Pearse. “He saw the mosaic yesterday, and then we covered it back up. He left in the early evening.”
“There’s no sign of a forced entry, and the basement door to the street was locked.”
“Jeremy had his own keys to the house and basement, of course,” Mrs. Wilson said. “But he always rang before he came. He was very considerate that way.”
Pearse looked into the hall, handed the plastic bag to a policeman, and noticed Pru. “Did you need something else, Ms. Parke?”
Pru had no answer, but escaped eviction when one of the police workers came to the door. “Sir? There’s a neighbor here. He wants to talk with you.”
“Yes, ask him to come in here, if that’s all right.” Pearse turned to the Wilsons and ignored Pru. Malcolm walked in.
“Harry, Vernona, how terrible this is about Jeremy. Oh, is there tea, Vernona?” Without a word or greeting, Mrs. Wilson turned to put the kettle back on for a fresh pot.
“Are you the inspector? I’m Malcolm Crisp—I live just to the back. I’m sure you’ve got every bit of information already. Do you have any idea who did this?”
Pearse turned to the new arrival. “Mr. Crisp, we’ve just started the investigation. Did you see or hear anything unusual during the night or early this morning?” he asked.
“I don’t really keep a constant eye out the window,” Malcolm said—Pru noticed the Wilsons glance at each other. “Of course, I’m sure Harry already told you about the argument he had with Jeremy last evening out in the shed.”
“Did you and Mr. Pendergast argue, Mr. Wilson?” Pearse asked.
“Oh, I’m sure it was nothing.” Malcolm’s voice contained just a trace of delight. “Just some loud voices, that’s all. I couldn’t really hear what was said, just snatches of phrases:—‘Not yet,’ and ‘I won’t let you jeopardize,’ and something about ‘What it’s worth.’ ”
“Jeremy and I discussed how to go about examining what might be there.” Mr. Wilson’s face colored up, and Pru noticed he avoided using the words “Roman” and “mosaic.” “There’s no question that it needs to be looked at, and we discussed … how best to go about that. We talked—perhaps we were loud. That’s … that’s all.”
The policeman with the plastic bag stepped in the doorway and spoke quietly with Pearse, who turned to the Wilsons. “Mr. Pendergast’s door key was still with him, and the basement door was locked. You say no one else could’ve come through?”
Silence filled the room, until Pearse noticed Pru still standing near the door. “Ms.Parke?” he said sharply.
“Yes, Inspector, goodbye. Mrs. Wilson …”
“Pru, dear, I’ll see you tomorrow morning for coffee, shall I?”
Pru accepted graciously and then left before Pearse had her removed forcibly.
Chapter 3
Just as well,
she thought. The Nethercotts’ topiary awaited her—seven geometric shapes, from balls to pyramids—dotted around their back garden. The Nethercotts had great hopes of turning the shapes into
“Mr. Wilson, what time did Mr. Pendergast leave yesterday evening?” Pearse asked.
“It was just before seven, I believe. We were getting ready for dinner.”
“More of a tea than dinner,” Mrs. Wilson cut in. “Really, after getting ready for my luncheon yesterday, I didn’t have a moment to cook. And Mary had left some cold chicken for us.”
“Who is Mary?” Pearse asked.
“Mary comes in a few mornings a week to help out, but I’m always here. She doesn’t have a key,” Mrs. Wilson explained.
Pearse turned back to Mr. Wilson. “Did you know Mr. Pendergast was comingback to the house? Did you have any contact with him later yesterday evening or early this morning?”
“I didn’t see him again.” Mr. Wilson looked out at the shed, not at Pearse. “He saw the mosaic yesterday, and then we covered it back up. He left in the early evening.”
“There’s no sign of a forced entry, and the basement door to the street was locked.”
“Jeremy had his own keys to the house and basement, of course,” Mrs. Wilson said. “But he always rang before he came. He was very considerate that way.”
Pearse looked into the hall, handed the plastic bag to a policeman, and noticed Pru. “Did you need something else, Ms. Parke?”
Pru had no answer, but escaped eviction when one of the police workers came to the door. “Sir? There’s a neighbor here. He wants to talk with you.”
“Yes, ask him to come in here, if that’s all right.” Pearse turned to the Wilsons and ignored Pru. Malcolm walked in.
“Harry, Vernona, how terrible this is about Jeremy. Oh, is there tea, Vernona?” Without a word or greeting, Mrs. Wilson turned to put the kettle back on for a fresh pot.
“Are you the inspector? I’m Malcolm Crisp—I live just to the back. I’m sure you’ve got every bit of information already. Do you have any idea who did this?”
Pearse turned to the new arrival. “Mr. Crisp, we’ve just started the investigation. Did you see or hear anything unusual during the night or early this morning?” he asked.
“I don’t really keep a constant eye out the window,” Malcolm said—Pru noticed the Wilsons glance at each other. “Of course, I’m sure Harry already told you about the argument he had with Jeremy last evening out in the shed.”
“Did you and Mr. Pendergast argue, Mr. Wilson?” Pearse asked.
“Oh, I’m sure it was nothing.” Malcolm’s voice contained just a trace of delight. “Just some loud voices, that’s all. I couldn’t really hear what was said, just snatches of phrases:—‘Not yet,’ and ‘I won’t let you jeopardize,’ and something about ‘What it’s worth.’ ”
“Jeremy and I discussed how to go about examining what might be there.” Mr. Wilson’s face colored up, and Pru noticed he avoided using the words “Roman” and “mosaic.” “There’s no question that it needs to be looked at, and we discussed … how best to go about that. We talked—perhaps we were loud. That’s … that’s all.”
The policeman with the plastic bag stepped in the doorway and spoke quietly with Pearse, who turned to the Wilsons. “Mr. Pendergast’s door key was still with him, and the basement door was locked. You say no one else could’ve come through?”
Silence filled the room, until Pearse noticed Pru still standing near the door. “Ms.Parke?” he said sharply.
“Yes, Inspector, goodbye. Mrs. Wilson …”
“Pru, dear, I’ll see you tomorrow morning for coffee, shall I?”
Pru accepted graciously and then left before Pearse had her removed forcibly.
Chapter 3
Just as well,
she thought. The Nethercotts’ topiary awaited her—seven geometric shapes, from balls to pyramids—dotted around their back garden. The Nethercotts had great hopes of turning the shapes into
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