Murder in the Secret Garden by Ellery Adams Page B

hint of anger to creep into her voice. “I hear that’s one of his many skills. Sneaking into places.” She shook her head to stop herself from focusing on Edwin’s secret identity—the one that identified him as a famous book thief called The Templar. “I might be furious with him, but I’m glad he showed up when he did. He was able to get Kira out of the water and fetch Doc Lydgate. His timing was fortunate.”
    â€œI doubt Mr. Alcott was at that bend in the river by chance,” Sterling grumbled. “When you separated from the crowd to chase after your uncle’s hat, Mr. Alcott probably saw an opportunity to speak with you in private.” A gleam appeared in Sterling’s eyes. “He must have been surprised to see that the object you were trying to retrieve from the water was a far cry from a fishing hat.”
    â€œIf he was surprised, he hid it well,” Jane said. “I did a terrible job concealing how I felt, even though I’d mentally rehearsed how I’d react when I saw Edwin Alcott again. I was going to be the picture of courtesy. But cool and distant. Untouchable.”
    Sterling raised his brows. “And?”
    â€œI didn’t exactly pull it off.”
    By this point they’d reached the rear exit. Sterling was just about to head to the garage when he turned back to Jane and said, “We Fins swore an oath to protect you, and we’re more than willing to teach this man a lesson about what it means to trifle with your feelings, Miss Jane.”
    Jane smiled. “I shouldn’t have mentioned Mr. Alcott. Sometimes I forget that I have highly trained personal bodyguards, all of whom happen to dote on me and defend my honor as they would their own kid sister. And while I’m not former CIA or a retired Army Ranger and have never worked as an analyst in Her Majesty’s Secret Service, I am learning to hold my own.”
    Sterling nodded. “You are developing skills, Miss Jane, but you are no match for the likes of Mr. Alcott.”
    Jane stared at him. “What makes you say that? He’s a book thief, not a trained assassin.” She glared at Sterling. “Please tell me I was
not
falling in love with a hit man.”
    â€œFalling in love?” Sterling looked taken aback.
    Cheeks burning, Jane mumbled something about needing a shower and dashed outside. As she hurried behind the loading dock, she heard the sound of the twins’ laughter.
    â€œI’m home, boys!” she called. “Did you have fun at the duck race?”
    â€œWe can’t talk now, Mom!” Hem shouted back. “We’re working!”
    â€œYeah, we’re on the clock!” Fitz added, doing his best to sound macho.
    Stifling a laugh, Jane continued toward home, all thoughts of Edwin Alcott temporarily banished. Hearing the twins laboring in Mrs. Hubbard’s kitchen garden had reminded Jane of why she needed to get cleaned up in the first place. She’d gotten wet while trying to pull Kira’s body out of the water. Right about now, her friends would be lining up outside the Agatha Christie Tea Room. Would any of The Medieval Herbalists notice Kira’s absence?
    Jane took a quick shower and changed into her cornflower blue dress. After forcing her damp strawberry blond curls into a tight braid, she dabbed on tinted lip gloss and added blush to her cheeks before hurrying back to the manor house again.
    She found Sinclair in the surveillance room, pacing in front of the bank of monitors like a restless cat.
    â€œThere you are,” he said upon seeing Jane.
    â€œI couldn’t risk being seen looking like a drowned rat.” Jane gestured at the papers in Sinclair’s hand. “Did you identify Constance’s lover?”
    Sinclair nodded. “Nico Scannavini. He’s in the perfume business. His family has turned plants into scents for the past two hundred years. Nico is the younger son. The older