Murder in the Secret Garden (4 page)

“Did you mention something about sex?” Mrs. Pratt whispered excitedly.

Jane and Eloise exchanged a quick grin, before Jane said, “I was talking about Kira Grace.”

Mrs. Pratt nodded knowingly. “I have a copy of her book,
PolliNation
. That woman has the ability to turn a simple flower stamen into a—”

“Yes,” Jane cut in smoothly. “I saw an example of her work yesterday. As did Butterworth.”

“Oh, my.” Mrs. Pratt giggled. “I can just picture his facial expression.” She mimicked Butterworth's look of stern disapproval.

Jane was about to scold her friend for making fun of Butterworth when she realized that it was her turn to buy a ticket.

“Pippi Longducking, please,” she told Captain Phil.

He instructed her to put her name and phone number on two tickets with matching numbers. “You keep one and I drop the second in Pippi's fish bowl. If she wins the race, we'll pick a random name from the fishbowl and that person wins the grand prize. If she comes in second, a winner gets the second-place prize, and so on.”

“I'm not sure what I'd do with a kayak, so I hope someone with more free time and better balance wins the grand prize.” Jane took her ticket and stepped aside to allow Eloise to purchase her ticket.

Once all the Cover Girls had their tickets, they rejoined Fitz and Hem outside. By this time, a large crowd had congregated on both sides of Storyton River.

“Look at all these people!” Jane exclaimed softly.

“I'd better run,” Betty said. “Bob should be pushing the drink cart to the bridge right about now and he'll be wondering where I've gone. See you at book club!”

After she hurried off, the twins asked Jane if they could watch the race with their friends.

“Yes. You can meet me at the finish line, where Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Octavia will be sitting. Watch out for toddlers or little old ladies in your rush to follow the ducks.” Jane raised a warning finger. “There are tons of Storyton guests at this event, so mind your manners.”

“What your mom is trying to say is don't push anyone into the water,” Eloise added with a playful wink. “Even if they act like jerks because their duck is in the lead.”

Jane elbowed her best friend. “Don't give them any ideas.”

The boys told their mother they'd behave and were off like a shot, nearly barreling into an elderly man using a walker.

Jane rolled her eyes in exasperation. “At least Sinclair,
Lachlan, and the Hogg brothers are officiating. With those five gentlemen spread out along the route, the twins can't get into too much trouble.”

Eloise shook her head. “You're bound to regret those words. Come on, Mrs. Pratt is saving us a spot by the riverbank. See how she's sticking her elbows out? She looks like a flustered hen!”

Arm in arm, Jane and Eloise squeezed in next to Mrs. Pratt and peered up at the bridge. They saw Bob Carmichael's drink cart with its bright blue umbrella, and next to the cart, a woman wearing a yellow Storyton Outfitter's T-shirt. Jane recognized the green font and the logo, a canoe paddle crossed over a fishing pole, because Captain Phil was wearing an identical shirt.

The woman raised a bullhorn to her lips. “Welcome, everyone!” Her voice floated down from the bridge. “Welcome to Storyton's inaugural rubber duck race!”

The crowd cheered.

“I'm Sandi Hughes. Most of you have probably already met my husband, Captain Phil. Today is a very special day for us. We're celebrating the grand opening of our business, Storyton Outfitters, which is a dream come true for Captain Phil, but we're also the newest members of this beautiful and charming community, which is a dream come true for both of us.”

This elicited even more cheers and applause.

“And now, according to the Casio Pro Tek watch on my wrist—a prize I'll soon be presenting to the third-place winner—it's two minutes to four.” Sandi leaned over the bridge railing and pointed down at the river. “As you can see, the ducks are lined up and ready to swim. As soon as Captain Phil releases the netting, the ducks are free! The first duck to cross the finish line just shy of Broken Arm Bend is our winner. Please do not interfere with the racers or throw anything in the water. The three prize drawings
will take place at Storyton Outfitters after the race. Good luck, have fun, and thank you for coming today!”

Captain Phil waded into the river and gave a short blast of his air horn. “Count down with me!” he shouted.

Jane looked at the twenty ducks bobbing up in the current and felt a thrill of excitement. She glanced at the opposite bank and saw Tammy Kota standing with a short man who bore an uncanny resemblance to Benjamin Franklin. Jane recognized the man as Claude Mason, the president of The Medieval Herbalists. Spotting Jane, Vivian waved and then turned to speak to her companion. After a brief pause, Claude smiled and waved too. Jane waved back, feeling a kinship with all those around her.

“One!” Phil began.

The crowd instantly joined in. “Two!”

“I feel like a child at a magic show. Or the circus,” murmured Mrs. Pratt. She clasped her hands as though in prayer. “At my age, it's ridiculous to be this invested in a rubber duck.”

And yet, she bellowed “Three!” along with everyone else and gave a triumphant whoop when the netting fell and the ducks were freed.

People surged downriver en masse, and Jane was relieved that the gentle current kept the ducks at a leisurely pace and allowed the spectators to get a head start. Of course, some of the attendees were waiting in chairs by the finish line. Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Octavia were among this group, as were several of their octogenarian friends.

As Jane walked close on Eloise's heels, she saw Victoria and Hannah Billingsley on the path ahead. Hannah's pace was even slower than that of the floating ducks, and people were politely skirting around her. Jane felt a stab of sympathy for the younger woman. With every step, Hannah's body swayed back and forth, and though her sister offered her arm more than once, Hannah refused to accept Victoria's assistance.

At least people aren't staring at Hannah
, Jane thought.

She'd almost caught up to the Billingsley sisters when the current grew stronger and the ducks started to move downstream with more alacrity.

“Come on, James Pond!” Eloise shouted. “Go, go, go!”

Similar cries echoed over the water.

“Look!” a child nearby called out. “The Quack in the Hat is upside down! Can he win with his butt?”

The innocent question drew a roar of laughter from the crowd. Jane squinted at the yellow specks in the river until she saw that the duck with the red and white stovepipe hat and red bow tie was now floating with his head underwater. Though his progress hadn't been halted, the sudden reversal of his body had put him in last place, and the people who'd picked him to win were crestfallen.

“Flip over, Quack!” they pleaded. “Get your head above water!”

Bill Shakespeare was having problems too. A stick had become lodged between his wing and his quill pen and now, instead of floating straight, he was spinning around in circles.

“The Bard of Avon is creating his own whirlpool. A tempest, if you will,” Mabel said with a chortle.

Jane was too distracted by the sight of Hannah veering off the path toward a large tree to respond to Mabel's comment. When Hannah reached the tree, she leaned heavily against its trunk and made waving motions at Victoria, indicating that her sister should go on without her. Victoria put her hands on her hips and refused to budge.

By the time Jane caught up with the siblings, the current had increased and the ducks were now floating so swiftly that the excitement among the spectators had reached a fever pitch.

“Pippi's in the lead!” Mrs. Pratt shrieked. And then, “Jane? Aren't you coming?”

“Go on. I'll catch up.” Unaware that she was doing so, Jane mimicked Hannah's gesture.

When her friends had moved off, Jane approached the two sisters. “Is there room at this tree for a third?” Jane smiled briefly at Victoria, but focused her attention on Hannah.

“I just need to catch my breath,” Hannah said without conviction. Her face was drawn and her eyes were glassy. Having had to bring the twins to Doc Lydgate for stitches half a dozen times, Jane recognized the expression. Hannah was in pain.

“Would you like a ride back to Storyton Hall?” Jane asked softly. “Sterling, our head chauffeur, has a car parked in the village. Forgive me for being blunt, Ms. Billingsley, but you don't look well.”

Victoria opened her mouth to protest, but Hannah put her hand on her sister's arm. “If it's not too much trouble, I'd be glad for a ride. My back's really hurting. I forgot to bring my body pillow from home, so I didn't sleep well last night.”

“I'm sorry to hear that,” Jane said. “I'll speak with our head housekeeper after the race. She'll come up with a substitute for your body pillow, even if that means sewing four of our regular pillows together. If that makes you comfortable, we'll do it.”

Jane retreated a few steps, called Sterling, and told him where to meet the Billingsley sisters. “Have Mrs. Hubbard and Mrs. Templeton put their heads together to see what they can do to help Ms. Billingsley.”

The last group of spectators was passing by Jane and the Billingsley sisters when Sterling appeared and offered Hannah his arm. “Your chariot awaits, milady.”

When Hannah hesitated, Sterling whispered, “Please, miss. My boss is watching.”

Though she knew she was being manipulated, Hannah complied. Keeping her eyes on the ground, she leaned heavily on Sterling as the trio made their way to the car. While Sterling got Hannah settled, Victoria turned and mouthed a silent “thank you” to Jane. She smiled in reply and hurried to catch up to her friends.

Jogging along the riverbank, she heard the crowd noise escalate.

The ducks must be close to the finish line
, she thought and broke into a full run.

By the time she could see the chute Captain Phil had constructed to force the ducks into single file as they approached the finish line, a victor had already been declared. Jane couldn't hear which duck had nabbed the top spot because the spectators were still rooting for their ducks to claim second and third place.

Jane wound her way through a knot of riveted onlookers until she reached Uncle Aloysius and Aunt Octavia. Aunt Octavia sat in her chair like a queen on her throne. Her feet rested on a tufted footstool, she held a pair of mother-of-pearl opera glasses in front of her eyes, and a bag of popcorn was balanced on her expansive lap. Uncle Aloysius, in contrast, was standing at the river's edge, shouting for Quackenezer Scrooge to “swim like the Dickens.”

Suddenly, he whooped in triumph and turned to exchange a high-five with a companion. Unfortunately, the friend missed Aloysius's outstretched hand and knocked his beloved fishing hat right off his head. It landed in the water and was immediately whisked away by the current.

“Sinclair!” Aloysius cried out in alarm, but his cries were swallowed by the surrounding cacophony and Sinclair continued to gesture at a group of children who were in danger of going for an impromptu swim if they continued to jostle one another.

Jane hurried over to her uncle. “Don't worry. I'll get it where the river bottlenecks.”

“My sweet Octavia gave me that hat,” he said with the forlorn expression of a child who's lost his favorite toy. “Every hook and fly has a story.”

“I won't come back without it,” Jane promised. “Keep an eye on the twins for me.”

And she was off again, running along the river trail.

As the river curved away from the village, the trail grew steeper. It wasn't long before Jane was breathing heavily. She glanced at the water, hoping that her uncle's hat would be directed toward the bank by a stray current, but it floated steadily downstream.

By the time the river narrowed and a cluster of rocks created a logjam of leaves, branches, and other natural debris along the eastern bank, Jane had a stitch in her side. Luckily, the tip of a pointy stick had snagged her uncle's hat, so Jane kicked off her shoes, rolled up her trouser legs, and waded in after it.

Mud squelched between her toes and she wobbled awkwardly over the slick stones and the riverbed. The cool water rushed around her calves, and then her knees, when she finally grabbed hold of her uncle's hat.

That's when she saw the body drifting in the flotsam.

“God,” Jane whispered in horror and splashed toward the body. Instinct told her she could do nothing to help. The person was floating facedown, but she rushed forward as fast as she could despite this knowledge.

Shoving her uncle's hat on her head, she reached for the woman's shoulders. A cloud of copper hair fanned out from the center of her head like sunrays and tiny fish darted away as Jane strained to flip the woman over. She was inordinately heavy.

When her face was finally turned to the sun, it was a grotesque mask of bloated white skin. A dark leaf was plastered over one eye and specks of dirt clung to her lips and cheeks.

Jane stood in the river, numb with shock, and cradled the dead body of a Storyton Hall guest.

Jane couldn't believe she was holding the lifeless corpse of Kira Grace.

Kira, who'd been bubbling over with energy the previous day. A woman with dancing eyes and laughter in her voice. A woman who seemed on the verge of skipping instead of walking.

But death had robbed her of her effervescence. She was now heavy—weighed down by sodden, mud-covered clothes and wet, clotted hair.

Jane couldn't stop staring into Kira's eyes.

They were opaque and looked to be covered with a bluish film, like the eyes of a newborn kitten. Kira's eyes reflected nothing. They were horrifying and pitiful at the same time.

“I have to get you out.” Jane's voice was little more than a hoarse whisper, but it sounded far too loud in this bend in the river—this place where Kira's body had gotten stuck with the rest of the debris.

Jane took a moment to gather her resolve. She touched the hat perched on her head, and her fingertips brushed the
silky threads of one of her uncle's flies. The hat reminded her that people were waiting for her upriver. If she didn't return soon, the twins might come looking for her.

She shook her head. She didn't want her boys to see the dead woman. Or for anyone else to see her, for that matter. Only the Fins (the group of men who worked at Storyton Hall and used their vast and secret talents to protect the Seward Family), Doc Lydgate, or someone from the sheriff's department should be privy to the sight.

Fearing that she'd already wasted too much time, Jane slid her forearms around Kira's waist and tugged. She expected the dead woman to obediently drift sideways toward the bank as directed. Instead, the body rolled to the right and dipped below the surface, as though unseen hands were holding her and refused to let go.

Jane bent down until her chest was nearly touching Kira's chest. Repositioning her arms so that they were now behind the dead woman's back, she yanked upward. A putrid odor rose from the corpse and Jane nearly gagged, but she hung on. Locked in her gruesome embrace, Jane closed her eyes, clenched her jaw, and pulled with all her might.

She heard a muted tear and the dead woman's weight shifted so abruptly that Jane was thrown off-balance. She reeled, felt her foot slide on a sharply angled rock, and fell backward.

As the water closed over her head, she made a grab for her uncle's hat. Her fingers had just closed around the brim when something touched her cheek. Opening her eyes underwater, Jane saw a swollen, milk white hand lunging toward her. It seemed to close over her face, blocking out the light.

Startled, Jane sucked in a mouthful of water. Her confused lungs contracted and she spluttered violently. She kicked her legs and pushed upward, fighting to get her head above the surface.

And then someone was lifting her up from behind. Someone with incredible strength pulled her halfway out of the water with one yank, but Jane was unable to focus on her rescuer until she'd expelled the water from her lungs.

“I thought you were an accomplished swimmer,” said a male voice in a tone of either mockery or amusement.

Jane swung around to find Edwin Alcott standing chest-deep in Storyton River, and her initial shock over the sight of Kira's body and over the touch of the dead woman's hand instantly turned to anger. Reaching out, she thumped Edwin on the chest. Three times. As hard as she could. “I don't need your help!” She pointed at Kira. “
She
does!”

Edwin didn't so much as flinch. “That woman is beyond anyone's help. Take my arm, and once you're on dry land, I'll go back for her.”

He held out his elbow, but Jane ignored it. After making sure her uncle's hat was still in place, she half swam, half waded to the bank. She was being churlish, she knew, but she didn't care. As far as she was concerned, she didn't owe Edwin Alcott a thing. Not even common courtesy.

Edwin waited until Jane was completely out of the water before approaching Kira's body. He then studied the scene for several minutes. His eyes scanned the corpse and the debris surrounding it. Apparently satisfied that there was no information to be gleaned from the clogged jumble of twigs and leaves, he glanced back over his shoulder as though retracing the possible path the currents could have carried the dead woman.

Finally, when Jane was on the verge of shouting at him to hurry, Edwin scooped Kira up in his arms and lifted her from the water without the slightest trace of revulsion.

He laid her body gingerly on the grass and looked at Jane. “Do you know her?”

“She's one of our guests,” Jane replied tersely.

With a nod, Edwin stripped off his black T-shirt, wrung
out as much water as he could, and then gently placed it over Kira's face. “Do you want to stay with her while I get help or would you prefer to go?”

What Jane wanted to do most was slap Edwin. After that, she wanted to grip him by the shoulders and shake him. She wanted him to explain where he'd been for the past four months and why he hadn't called or written. But she refused to show him how much he'd hurt her with his silence, so she pushed a lock of wet hair off her forehead and said, “I'd be grateful if you'd call Doc Lydgate. Do you have a cell phone on you?”

“No. I only use mine when I'm abroad,” Edwin said. “As a rule, I dislike such gadgets. I realize that I'm in the minority, but I don't believe they've done much to advance society. I'll run to the doc's office.”

“Please be as quick as you can.” Jane pointed up river. “I don't want my sons to come searching for me and encounter a dead body.”

With a dip of his chin, Edwin turned and sprinted toward Storyton Village. Jane was tempted to watch him run. She could easily imagine how the muscles in his long, lean back would move, or how the sweep of dark hair falling across his forehead would lift and lower like a raven's wing, but she refused to look. Instead, she took off her uncle's hat and put it on a flat rock in the sun to dry. She then knelt in the grass and sat vigil over Kira Grace.

As the minutes ticked by, question after question surfaced in her mind. The steady gurgle of the river provided no answers. Neither did Kira's inert form.

“How did you end up in there?” Jane asked nonetheless. “And how long were you in the water?”

Hours
, Jane silently replied on Kira's behalf. It was obvious that the deterioration of Kira's skin and the excessive bloating of her extremities hadn't occurred within the last hour or so. The famed photographer had been floating in Storyton River for a long time.

But why?
Jane thought, fearing the answer to this question above all the others.

It wasn't Edwin who returned with Doc Lydgate, but Sterling.

“Knowing you might be tied up here for a spell, the doc had the foresight to call over to Storyton Hall requesting a car for Masters Fitz and Hem. I took the liberty of running the boys home,” he told Jane. “Mrs. Hubbard promised to keep an eye on them.”

At the mention of the twins, Doc Lydgate grinned. “How are my favorite patients? Not getting into too much mischief yet, eh? But the summer has just begun.” Chuckling, he squeezed Jane's hand and then turned to the body on the grass. “What have we here?”

“I found her in the river,” Jane said by way of explanation.

Kneeling, the doc removed Edwin's shirt. Without the slightest change of expression, he reached into his leather satchel and withdrew a pair of latex gloves, a tongue depressor, and a pen-sized exam light. After shining the light in Kira's eyes, Doc Lydgate used the tongue depressor to carefully pry open her mouth. He focused the light on her tongue, grunted once, and then sat back on his heels.

“Mr. Sterling, would you call Sheriff Evans? He'll want to see this lady before she's moved.”

Jane felt a ripple of dread move up her spine. “Didn't she drown? Or did you find something else?”

Doc Lydgate nodded solemnly. “I'm afraid so. Do you know her, my dear?”

“She's a guest of Storyton Hall. Her name is Kira Grace.” Jane stared at Kira's pale hand in disbelief. “She's only just arrived. I can't imagine how she ended up . . .” She trailed off, distracted by the sound of Sterling speaking into his cell phone.

“I'm sorry that you had to find her this way. It must have been quite a shock.” Doc Lydgate rose to his feet and gave
Jane a long look of appraisal. “Mr. Alcott told me how he came upon you in the river. Are you feeling faint or unwell in any way?”

“Other than wet clothes and wounded pride, I'm fine.” Jane smiled to show her gratitude, but her smile quickly vanished. “What did you see, Doc? When you opened her mouth—what did you see?”

“Discoloration of the tongue. Not a typical symptom of drowning. It's also not a result of the young woman having been in the water for an inordinate period of time. I don't have a great deal of experience in these matters, but I'm certain this is not a result of putrefaction or any other cause but the one I suspect.”

Jane grew very still. “Which is?”

Removing his gloves, Doc Lydgate stroked the white whiskers of his beard and stared forlornly at Kira. “Poison.”

A groan escaped through Jane's lips, and her entire body sagged. However, she only allowed fear and worry to rule her emotions for a brief moment before she regained control. By the time Doc Lydgate turned his attention back to her, she was completely composed.

“That's terrible,” she said. Multiple scenarios were unfolding in her mind, each more disturbing than the last. “Yesterday, Ms. Grace seemed taken with the idea of setting out early to explore the hills surrounding the village. Could she have ingested something unknowingly?”

The doc shrugged. “She could have eaten raw wild mushrooms, though I'm not sure that's what happened in this case.” He gave Jane a paternal pat on the shoulder. “Don't worry. Once she's over the mountain, they'll test her stomach contents and check her blood work—they'll find the answer quickly enough.”

It wouldn't be quickly enough for Jane. Kira Grace was a Medieval Herbalist. She knew her plants. It was highly
unlikely that she'd accidentally eat anything poisonous while out hiking.

Exactly where did you go?
Jane wondered.
And did anyone else see you?

“When will the sheriff arrive?” she asked Sterling.

“By now, it should be less than ten minutes. Miss Jane, would you like me to go back to Storyton and fetch you a change of clothes?”

Jane glanced down at her wet shirt and pants. “No. I'll stay like this until Ms. Grace has been seen to.”

“Why should you be uncomfortable?” Doc Lydgate's voice held a trace of reprimand. “You're not responsible for the well-being of every guest. They're not children, and this is not your fault.”

“Ms. Grace is my responsibility,” Jane replied. “Like the rest of my guests, she came to Storyton Hall to escape the noise and stress of today's high-speed, hi-tech world. My guests trust me to provide them with a reader's sanctuary. A sanctuary implies a place that is both peaceful and safe. I failed to provide that for Ms. Grace, but I won't fail her again. I'll wait, just as I am, to ensure that she is removed in a dignified manner.”

“This lady didn't die at the resort, so you're not culpable,” Doc Lydgate pointed out, but Jane was no longer listening. She had returned to the moment when she'd last seen Kira Grace. She remembered how Kira had carried her portfolio case over one shoulder and her camera case over the other.

Where is her camera now?
Jane's gaze traveled upriver before moving to the hills behind the village. If the camera wasn't in Kira's guest room, it could be anywhere.

When Jane looked back at Doc Lydgate again, he was busy replacing Edwin's T-shirt over Kira's face.

“Mr. Alcott wanted to accompany me, but I wouldn't let him,” the doc said, snapping his case shut. “There was a large
line forming outside his café and I saw no sense in his losing business when I could find my own way. He seemed very disappointed when I refused him. I assume he was eager to see you, Jane—” Mercifully, the slamming of car doors distracted Doc Lydgate, and less than a minute later, the sheriff and two deputies joined them on the riverbank.

“Ms. Steward.” Sheriff Evans touched the brim of his hat before shaking hands with Sterling and Doc Lydgate. Evans, a fair-haired, stocky man in his mid-fifties, had been the sheriff for over twenty years and was well respected throughout the region.

With his deputies standing several feet behind him, Sheriff Evans hooked his thumbs under his utility belt and stared down at Kira's body. “All right, Doc. Would you explain what you found in layman's terms?” Before Doc Lydgate could speak, however, the sheriff put a hand on his arm to stay him. “One moment, Doc.” After surveying the scene, he looked at his deputies. “Deputy Phelps, while the doc and I are talking, I'd like you to walk along the bank—see if anything catches your eye. Deputy Emory, please take a brief statement from Ms. Steward. We'll get her complete account later.”

Jane shot a quick glance at Sterling, wordlessly signaling that he should listen in on the conversation between Evans and Doc Lydgate, and he sidled closer to Kira's body with the light, noiseless tread of a cat.

Deputy Emory opened a small notebook and uncapped her pen. She stuck the cap behind her ear, where it nestled in her auburn hair, and gave Jane an encouraging smile. Jane had gotten to know the female deputy a little bit last winter, but she was surprised anew by how young and fresh-faced she was. With her creamy skin and bluebird eyes, she looked like she should be playing one of Austen's or Brontë's heroines on television instead of standing in the heat in her drab
brown uniform. “What made you come to this part of the river?” Deputy Emory began.

Jane reviewed her movements, doing her best to recall as many details as possible. Deputy Emory listened attentively and took copious notes, despite the fact that Jane would have to repeat the same information during her formal interview at the station at a later time.