Murder in the Secret Garden by Ellery Adams Page A

both of these individuals, but her plan—” Sterling began.
    â€œBackfired,” Jane finished for him. “Maybe she left this morning for a meeting in a secluded place, taking one of the damning photographs with her, when suddenly the tables were turned. The blackmailer became the victim. And she ended up paying the ultimate price.”

FIVE
    Sterling looked at his phone screen. “The guests are starting to return from the duck race.”
    Jane nodded. She didn’t have much time to decide what to do with the information they’d discovered. “Butterworth, you’d better go back to your post. Please escort the sheriff and his team through the rear door and the staff corridors. There’s no need for the rest of the guests to learn of Ms. Grace’s demise until absolutely necessary.”
    As Butterworth slipped from the room, Sterling gestured at the portfolio. “Should I replace this or leave it for the sheriff to find?”
    â€œForward images of the incriminating photographs to Sinclair first,” Jane said. “His first priority should be identifying Constance Meredith’s lover.”
    â€œAnd what about Constance?” Sterling asked while snapping photos with his phone. “Did you see her at the duck race?”
    Jane searched her memory, but the only Medieval Herbalists she’d noticed were Sandi Hughes, Vivian Ash, Claude Mason, and Hannah Billingsley.
    â€œI didn’t see her,” she answered. “However, if Constance went into town, her name will appear on a passenger list. She doesn’t strike me as the type to have arranged bicycle rental through Spokes. Not when a vintage Rolls-Royce and a driver in livery is at her disposal.”
    â€œI’ll scan the clipboards in the garage before meeting you back in the surveillance room. If we’re lucky, we can deliver Ms. Grace’s killer into the hands of the sheriff before tea service is over.”
    Jane opened the door, waited for Sterling to step out into the hallway, and then cast a quick glance back into the room. Despite Kira’s untidiness, it was still a lovely, welcoming space. The summer sun streamed through the tall windows and warmed the cozy reading chair and footstool. Jane was saddened to think that Kira wouldn’t have a chance to peruse her books or magazines in that chair. It was easy to picture her sipping tea and nibbling Mrs. Hubbard’s homemade shortbread cookies while she flipped pages. Jane could envision Kira’s feet encased in the polka-dot slipper socks she’d seen in the dresser drawer and could imagine her wriggling her toes in delight as she dunked a cookie into her tea.
    But your own actions ruined any chances of that
, Jane thought, silently berating Kira.
Were you desperate for money? Or were you just plain greedy?
    She remembered Kira’s expression at the mention of Constance Meredith’s name. Kira had clearly disliked her fellow group member. Perhaps the dislike was mutual. And if Kira did something to threaten the success the Poison Princess currently enjoyed, Jane didn’t think Constance would stand passively by.
    All conjecture
, Jane thought as she closed the door and locked it. To Sterling, she said, “I hope things turn out as you say, but somehow, I don’t feel that lucky.”
    Sterling looked contrite.
    Jane touched his arm. “Don’t mind me. It’s just that Icaught a glimpse of myself in the mirror a moment ago and I really need to get cleaned up. I can’t let our guests see me like this.” She handed Sterling her great-uncle’s fishing hat. “Give this to a bellhop, would you? At least I was able to rescue something today.”
    As they descended the staff stairwell, Sterling shot her a brief glance. “I would have warned you about Mr. Alcott had I known he was back. He must have returned to the village—”
    â€œLike a thief in the night?” Jane allowed a