The garden was long and rectangular, with a fence on one side and a line of shrubs at the end. It hadn’t rained for a while and the lawn was covered with brown patches. Many of the flowers were wilting in their beds. At the same time, the fruit trees had been left to look after themselves and the branches were spreading out, fighting each other for space. Looking over the shrubs, Hawthorne could see that the garden belonging to the Brownes’ elderly neighbours was in much the same state.
‘Did you get the caller’s number?’ Hawthorne asked.
Dudley nodded. ‘The name came up on the screen. Sarah Baines.’
‘Sarah the gardener?’
‘Must be. He didn’t want me to see.’
Hawthorne examined the garden. ‘Funny, isn’t it. He described her as hard-working and helpful . . .’
‘Yeah. I thought that. It doesn’t look as if she’s done anything hard or helpful here!’
Meanwhile, on the other side of the folding garage door, Roderick Browne had taken his phone out again. He listened carefully to make sure that Hawthorne was nowhere close.
Then he opened his phone to see what he had missed.
4
The Tea Cosy bookshop was open for business, but neither May Winslow nor Phyllis Moore was in any mood to sell books.
They were sitting at one of the empty tables close to the main door. In fact, all the tables were empty. Nobody had come in yet and although they often passed the time reading, knitting or playing gin rummy together when they had no business, today they were just sitting in silence. They had already given full statements to Detective Superintendent Khan and, after they had been forced to take the whole of Tuesday off, he had allowed them to leave for work – so long as they promised not to discuss the murder with any of their customers. Well, there was no chance of that today.
Phyllis had been agitated all morning. ‘I need a burner!’ she announced, suddenly.
May stared at her. ‘A cigarette?’
‘I can’t just sit here thinking about it all. I’m going outside.’ She reached down for her handbag, then rummaged in it for a pouch of Golden Virginia tobacco.
But before she could get up, May reached out and laid a hand on her companion’s arm. ‘I think we should talk,’ she said.
‘Why?’
‘You know very well.’
‘You’ve been sitting here all morning. You haven’t said a word.’
It wasn’t very often that there was any friction between the two women, but just for a moment they glared at each other like old enemies. May released her grip. ‘We have to be very careful,’ she said. ‘We’ve got the police all over Riverview Close and my guess is they’ll be there for quite a while.’
‘We’ve got nothing to be afraid of.’
‘We have everything to be afraid of. You know the way it works. They’ll be investigating us even now. Do you want to stay in Richmond?’
‘I like it here.’
‘So do I. But we won’t be able to. Not if they start digging.’
There was another silence. Phyllis opened the packet and began to roll herself a cigarette. ‘We should tell them about what happened,’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘The night before the murder! When Roderick told us what he was going to do. He said it in front of us all.’
‘He’d been drinking.’
‘It doesn’t mean it wasn’t true . . .’
May thought for a moment. ‘We could tell the police. But what good do you think it would do?’
‘If they arrest him, they’ll leave the rest of us alone.’
‘I only wish that was the case.’ May was breathing heavily. ‘We were all there, Phyllis. We were all part of it. And we’ve all agreed to keep our mouths shut. You know what that is? That’s conspiracy.’ She paused, forcing herself to calm down. ‘I wish the whole thing had never happened. It was stupid. Madness!’ She drew a breath. ‘You go to the police, you could find yourself under arrest. And me with you.’
Phyllis had finished making her roll-up. It contained so little tobacco that when she lit it, she would mainly be inhaling burnt paper. ‘We could send the police a note,’ she said. ‘Anonymously.’
May shook her head. ‘It won’t do any good. There’s no proof Roderick killed Mr Kenworthy. Do you really think he had it in him? I’ve met women older than us who’ve been more violent than him. And anyway, what was his motive?’
‘The swimming pool.’
‘We were all against the swimming pool. And you must remember, dear, that the police are dreadfully unimaginative. They’re unlikely to conclude that Mr Browne committed murder because the Kenworthys were going to spoil his view, even if that’s exactly what we want them to think!’
The shop door opened and a customer came in, a middle-aged man with a bag of groceries hanging from his arm. ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Do you by any chance have any Jo Nesbø?’
‘Try Waterstones!’ May snapped, not even looking at him.
‘Oh . . . All right.’
He left. The door closed.
‘And since we’re talking about motives . . .’ May continued as if the interruption had never happened. ‘Detective Superintendent Khan could well come to the conclusion that you and I are much more likely suspects than Mr Browne.’
Phyllis knew exactly what she meant. She glanced at the corner of the room where Ellery’s basket had always been, at the far end of the non-fiction section. It was no longer there. Her eyes filled with tears and for a moment she couldn’t speak.
They had loved that dog since he was a puppy and now he was gone. In the past two weeks, the two women’s lives had changed irrevocably for the worse. As far as they were concerned, the death of Giles Kenworthy had been by far the lesser of two evils.
They both knew who was responsible. Lynda Kenworthy had threatened them. She couldn’t have been clearer. ‘If your animal strays into our garden one more time, I’m going to ask my husband to deal with it.’ May and Phyllis hadn’t really listened to her at the time. Now they dearly wished they had.
For it seemed that Ellery had done exactly that, slipping out of the house and once again burrowing under the Brownes’ fence. Worse than that, he had left behind evidence of his visit. They’d had no idea what had happened until they were leaving to catch the bus into Richmond and had discovered another plastic bag of dog waste clipped into the letter box of their front door. There was no message. No further warning. Of course, both women knew perfectly well what Lynda had said, but they weren’t entirely sure what she’d meant by ‘dealing’ with it and so once again they’d put the whole thing out of their minds. Neither of them believed for a moment that she or her husband would do anything vindictive.
That evening, they’d got home from the shop in time for supper, fed Ellery and let him out to make himself comfortable before bed. Meanwhile, they’d settled down to watch an episode of Bergerac on television (they had all nine seasons on DVD). It was only when they realised it had grown dark and Ellery hadn’t returned that they went out looking for him.
He wasn’t in the garden. They went past the Brownes’ house and called out for him, but he didn’t seem to have wandered into the grounds of Riverview Lodge either. By now, both of them were getting nervous. Ellery had never been out so late and for so long on his own. May walked round the entire close, calling out his name. Then she knocked on the door of Woodlands. If Ellery had strayed back into the grounds of Riverview Lodge, he would have had to pass through the next-door garden and there was always a chance that Roderick Browne might have seen him. A light came on in the hall, visible on the other side of the window, and the dentist appeared a few moments later, wearing a red striped apron. He had just done the washing-up and was taking a cup of camomile tea up to Felicity.