‘Hate to tell you, honey, but May is long gone.’
‘Rats! There go my hopes for winning the village “Best Garden” competition.’
Will looked at her, amazed. In a matter of minutes, she had gone from angry and belligerent to his old enthusiastic Kate, waxing lyrical over her latest creation. ‘How do you find out all this weird stuff?’ he asked.
‘Research. I read the copy of Angela’s story and obviously illustrate that, but the extra detail comes from researching the subject. Like this. Her new fairy is called Runa, that’s Norse for a charm, or Sanskrit for magician. I’m not sure which she meant, they both fit the bill. The rowan is greatly revered for its protective qualities, it’s meant to ward off harm.’
‘That’s a bit of luck. We have a splendid one in the back garden. It’s a lovely tree.’
‘The Welsh planted them in their churchyards, where we used to plant the yew. They are supposed to watch over the spirits of the dead.’
‘And this young chap?’ He pointed to Runa, standing under his rowan tree.
‘He’s her new hero for this next book, The Protector of the Magical Garden of Gort.’
‘I’ve a feeling we’ll be seeing his face staring at us from quite a few grubby T-shirts next year.’
‘Who knows? But he is a handsome little devil, isn’t he?’
They stared at the painting. It was definitely too good for children. It had a magic about it, but it was more than just a pretty picture for kids. The colours were deep and rich, and the attention to detail reminded him of the Millais painting of Ophelia. Runa himself possessed a charisma that shone like a beacon.
‘Who on earth did you model this boy on?’
‘He’s not a boy, Will. He’s a fairy.’
‘Okay, but you had to model that face on someone.’
‘No, I didn’t. It’s just how I see Runa. Now it is Runa. I just hope he’s everything Angela is hoping for.’ Kate sounded unsure of herself all at once.
‘I’m certain he is, and a whole lot more besides. Angela will be thrilled when she sees this. It’s your best yet.’
‘I’m glad you think so, but still, I really am tiring of Angela’s fairies. It’s this place. Having been here for a while, I now know that I can do much, much better.’
Will saw a strange, intense light in her eyes that he had never seen before. ‘Well, you are only contracted for one more book, so why not get that out of the way, then take a break and concentrate on your own work?’
‘I can’t wait that long!’ She almost spat the words back at him. ‘Don’t you understand, Will? I need to be rid of all this!’ She stared accusingly at her rowan fairy, and for one awful moment Will thought she was going to sweep it from the easel and hurl it to the floor.
Then the doorbell rang.
Kate closed her eyes and took a deep breath. ‘Oh shit. Well, we’d better get this over with.’
CHAPTER THREE
Liz stood in the garden of Cannon Farm and gazed around her. It wasn’t picture-postcard pretty, like Emilia’s colourful cottage garden, but it was rather beautiful in an overgrown sort of way. The numerous trees and shrubs fought for supremacy, forming a glorious border of thick mature plants with little or no space between them. Liz rather liked this jungle of variously shaped leaves and colours. Neat and manicured was pretty, but she definitely preferred this natural look.
‘Not exactly the Eden Project, is it?’ Matt appeared beside her and handed her a mug of tea.
‘I like it. And seeing Emilia’s passion for her garden has inspired me to think about how we can make more of this lovely space.’ She pointed to a corner of the lawn. ‘I can see a summerhouse over there, can’t you? With those lovely trees behind it? And maybe a trellis arch with climbing roses at the bottom of that path?’
‘Uh-oh! She’s turning into Charlie Dimmock.’
Liz laughed. ‘Hardly! It’s just that there’s never been any time for these kinds of thoughts before, has there? It’s almost intoxicating.’
‘Like you.’ Matt was gazing down at her.
‘I guess it’s time we turned our thoughts back to our new unpaid job before we become, er, side-tracked.’
Matt grinned at her lasciviously. ‘Damn! Oh well, I suppose you’re right.’
They went back into the house and sat down at the kitchen table.
‘I’m really worried about that woman,’ said Liz flatly. ‘If it had been just one occurrence, like the garden shed, I’d have put it down to some idiot bored kids who’d probably pinched a few cans of Dad’s lager and then got stupid. But two incidents, both in the same place, in that remote spot, and only a few days apart? No way. Someone’s got a grudge against Emilia Swain, don’t you think?’
Matt nodded slowly. ‘Whoever attacked that lock did so with real venom. And her stuff wasn’t just thrown around, it was trashed, systematically.’
‘So, how are we going to play this, boss?’
Matt chuckled. ‘That sounds like the old days. We’re partners now, remember? I’m not the boss any more.’
‘I’d still like to know what plan of action we are considering.’
‘First, I suggest we get on the computer and see exactly what we can find out about Gerald Grove. I think we can afford to take a couple of runs a day out to Whisper Fen, just to keep an eye open. That part of the marsh is a great spot for bird-watching, so we can take some binoculars and not look out of place.’
‘Sounds like a plan,’ Liz said. ‘Shall I hit the internet?’
‘Perfect. I’ll drive down to the big B&Q on the Saltern-le-Fen road and get our Emilia a new lock and some timber to strengthen that shed door. Are you okay with that?’
‘Sure, and it’s good to know you’re so handy.’
He stood up, kissing her lightly on the neck. ‘Oh, you have no idea.’
After Matt had gone, Liz went to her laptop and googled Gerald Grove. Apart from a lawyer in the United States, and a quantity surveyor in Co. Durham, the only possible Grove was mentioned in an old newspaper article from around two years ago. It was from the West Country and referred to someone of that name appearing in court over a breach of the peace. It gave no further details. Liz frowned. Could be him, but she would need to know more about him before she dug deeper. Emilia had said that according to her friend the postmistress he was educated, possibly an academic. Liz wondered what his subject was. Why would an academic want to live in a tumbledown cottage on the marsh? Maybe he needed seclusion to write some paper or professional article. But why was Will so certain that he’d come across him before, and in his professional capacity?
Liz groaned. She was used to accessing the police databases, legally tapping into a wealth of information. Now she was on her own. What had once been a simple request for information was going to be a whole lot more difficult now she was a civilian. What she could not do was ask her old colleagues for help. For a start, the Data Protection Act prevented the sharing of information with the general public. Years ago, a quiet word in a friend’s ear could produce a wealth of information but these days it was more than their job was worth. As registered PIs, she and Matt could legally access all public records, including criminal records and court documents. What they couldn’t do was get hold of details of a person’s phone, their financial, medical or sealed court records. No, she’d have to do it the hard way, get out and talk to people. And of course, she needed to see Grove for herself, to see his face.