Closer to Death in a Garden (Pitkirtly Mysteries Book 10) by Cecilia Peartree Page B

least the desk sergeant seemed to be on her side, even if he was demonstrating it by making silly jokes.
    ‘But that’s ridiculous,’ said Christopher. There seemed to be nothing more to say, but almost as soon as this thought had crossed his mind, he realised there was something else. ‘He wasn’t some agent of a foreign power you were after, was he? The man at the garden centre, I mean.’
    ‘You know I’ve given up all that kind of thing,’ she said patiently. ‘No, I was only an innocent bystander. But they seem to think my just being there was suspicious.’
    ‘What about Jock McLean? He was there too.’
    ‘But he was quite open about being there. I was the one who hid in the greenhouse.’
    ‘But you couldn’t have...’
    ‘We’re going to ring off now, Mr Wilson,’ said Sergeant Macdonald’s voice suddenly. ‘The Chief’s getting her back in for another interview.’
    ‘This is serious, isn’t it?’ said Christopher.
    ‘It certainly is... Maybe you’d better tell Charlie,’ the Sergeant added in an undertone. ‘Has she asked you to get a lawyer?’
    ‘No, but I’ll look into that anyway.’
    ‘Aye. She’s right about the bail. We don’t want to keep her here unless we have to... Cheerio then, Mr Wilson,’ he added at a more normal volume. ‘Thanks for your help.’
    Christopher stared at the phone. He hadn’t expected this, although it seemed that Jemima and Jock both had. Maybe he’d better convene a meeting.
    Yes, that might help.
    He slammed his hand down on the desk so hard that the mouse-mat, which was in the way, flew off across the room and knocked over a small model of Table Mountain which Jemima and Dave had once brought him back from their trip to Cape Town. It fell off the shelf and into a box of Victorian lantern slides somebody had left there the week before and which he had put off doing anything with. Shards of glass flew up out of the box and littered the floor and to judge from that and the smashing sounds, there were now somewhat fewer of the slides for him to do something with.
    Better not to look. Things were going badly enough already.
     

Chapter 12 Forming a sub-committee
     
    Jemima hadn’t been at all sure about going out to the Queen of Scots so soon after they had both been in hospital, but Christopher had even sent a taxi for them, so she felt they had to make the effort. She wasn’t letting Dave drive yet, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to stop him for very much longer. He was as tense as an old-fashioned elastic garter all the way down in the taxi, muttering under his breath about gear changes and Fiat Pandas and cyclists.
    The taxi driver was the usual surly old man they had encountered before on the rare occasions when they needed somebody else to drive. But it was either that or ask Christopher to call a taxi from the new company at Torryburn, and surely it would have cost more to get somebody to drive along from there. When she tried to pay the driver, he brushed her aside and said something about it all being taken care of. She dithered as usual over giving a tip, and then Dave helped her down and hurried her towards the pub, so she didn’t get the chance.
    ‘It’s quiet enough tonight,’ said Charlie Smith, meeting them near the door. ‘I thought we might have to go upstairs, but we can just sit over here if you like... Is it the usual, Dave?’
    Dave glared at him. ‘A half of orange juice, Charlie.’
    ‘Oh dear,’ said Charlie, looking at Jemima. ‘Under orders, are we?’
    ‘He’s under orders,’ said Jemima. ‘But I’ll have an orange juice too, please, Charlie.’
    ‘I’ll get Jan to bring them over,’ said Charlie.
    Christopher was already sitting at the table. It wasn’t quite as it had been in PLIF days. Charlie had swapped all the tables round when he took over, and done a bit of re-decoration. And of course, plenty more water had gone under the bridge since those days, Jemima reflected. Watching Charlie and Jan