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Chapters (60)
  1. CRITICAL ACCLAIM FOR LEIGH RUSSELL
  2. Glossary of acronyms
  3. Prologue
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. Acknowledgements

‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ Geraldine preempted her fussing. ‘Work’s been busy, and I haven’t had much time to sleep in the last few weeks.’

‘You could always call me in the night, as I’ll probably be up with the baby,’ Celia smiled. ‘But the case isn’t over?’

Geraldine sighed and shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’m afraid this one’s going to take a while.’

Celia gave her a shrewd look, her blue eyes troubled. ‘Are you sure it’s just work that’s bothering you?’

Geraldine avoided meeting her sister’s gaze. ‘What else would it be?’

‘True, I suppose,’ Celia conceded. ‘You know, it’s high time you found yourself a decent man. There’s more to life than work.’

Geraldine stifled a sigh. ‘Not for me,’ she muttered. ‘Not any more,’ she thought.

31

31

His dahlias had done well that year, but their colourful display at the back of the garden would soon be over. Lemon yellow, fuchsia and crimson, they flourished in front of the fence. In each of the far corners of the garden he had planted a tree, a fig and a small conifer, between which the dahlias were a riot of colour. They were, as his daughter said, his pride and joy.

‘You can laugh at me all you like,’ he had replied, ‘but you have to admit they make a glorious show in the summer, and that doesn’t happen by chance. It takes a lot of care and attention to produce a display like that.’

‘I’m sure it doesn’t happen by chance, and you’re right, dad, they are lovely.’

More than a hobby to him after his wife died, maintaining his small patch of lawn and surrounding flower beds had become Roger’s passion in life. So when he stepped outside on Monday morning to carry out his daily inspection of the garden and saw someone lying down among the dahlias, he was horrified. Where he would have been cautious as a rule, he now became reckless with fury. Had the intruder been sprawling anywhere other than right on top of the dahlias, Roger might have been more circumspect, but he had been nurturing those flowers for months. And now, after all those months of careful tending, the dahlias had been vandalised. Having called the police to report an intruder on the premises, Roger could control his temper no longer. Seizing his garden fork he waved it at the back of the intruder’s head.

‘Get up!’ he roared. ‘Get up, you filthy swine! Off my flower bed! Get up!’

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do if the other man woke up before the police arrived, but he was momentarily too angry to worry about that. He shouted again, but the man on the ground did not stir.

‘I said, get up!’ Roger yelled.