Chapter 37
Lara, Sarah and Kate talked long into the night, struggling to work out what Rod meant, or decide what they should do about the china, or Mrs M (they all agreed they couldn’t call her Maggie Linton).
In the end it was decided that they would wait: wait for Lara to hear if the tea service was really valuable; and wait for inspiration regarding just about everything else.
As the next day was Saturday and a busy day for all of them, they decided they should meet up on Sunday.
Despite only having a few hours sleep, Lara was up early the next day.
After knocking gently, she popped her head around the door of her spare room, but her guest had already left.
The bed was made and there was no indication that Pinky Porter had ever been there.
She wondered how Pinky was feeling and what she could remember of the ball.
She kicked herself for not having asked Pinky all the many things that now came to her.
Specifically, she was intrigued by the bottle of pills she had found in Pinky’s bathroom and the idea that Pinky had been stealing from Lady Porter when she did her shopping.
The previous evening, Lara thought she might have said that Pinky had appalling taste in men and that she had got herself caught up in fraud, but she didn’t think of her as someone who would steal from the woman she called Lizzie.
Was Pinky a murderer? She just couldn’t see it somehow.
Was Julian a murderer? She thought she could see that more easily – if he didn’t have to get his hands dirty.
As she wandered around the kitchen making coffee, her mind drifted to Joe.
Joe the gardener, who felt he was patronised by his farming brothers.
Joe, who had been done for drugs and accused at some point (however unjustly), of stealing from one of his clients.
Even though she had never met Abby’s Aunt Augusta (and didn’t wish to), she felt sure she would be a woman who would say, ‘No smoke without fire.’
It was on this thought that Abby appeared. The association of ideas brought another gardener to mind: Thomas. Lara had not seen Abby since she had escorted Thomas home the previous night and she was keen to know how she had persuaded him to leave the potting shed.
‘That was easy,’ Abby said, as she seated herself at the kitchen table.
Today she was dressed in what Lara thought of as her ‘red pepper’ dress, with a matching hat.
Lara groaned inwardly to see that she was also wearing a shop apron.
This meant Abby would be ‘helping’ by offering an unending stream of floral suggestions that were in reality closer to commands.
Abby continued, ‘Thomas was furious to discover that someone had been stealing from Lady Porter from under his very nose. He was especially annoyed when he realised Primula Vulgaris was responsible. He has taken a strong dislike to the gentleman in the primrose waistcoat. It only took a small amount of persuasion and Thomas was soon packing his pipe with a revolting mix of his favourite blend. He was more than happy to puff away, spreading as much smoke as he could for such a good cause,’ Abby smiled and unpinned her hat, laying it on the table.
‘I knew that people could smell Thomas’s pipe smoke and I believed it might attract attention if there was enough of it.
’ She really did think this was one of her better ideas and that was saying something.
‘Thomas really enjoyed his outing, and my only hope is that it has not given him a taste for more expeditions. I suspect Thomas has a rather mischievous sense of humour,’ Abby said with a lurking smile.
‘Can he go anywhere he wants?’ Lara asked.
‘He would not be able to travel far, but probably far enough to get up to no good. Still, I believe his heart lies in the garden and I do not think he would find town life to his taste,’ Abby said hopefully, if a little doubtfully.
‘So, what next?’ Lara asked, opening the back door and leading the way to the flower shop.
She had a basket over her arm containing the china she had ‘acquired’ the previous evening.
She thought she would tell Abby about this later, although as Abby cast an appreciative look at the basket and smiled, she wondered if she would need to.
As they walked across the garden, Lara filled Abby in on Rod’s comment about ‘making an arrest’.
‘How very interesting,’ Abby commented placidly.
‘You don’t seem excited or even surprised… and don’t tell me knowing things is a knack… you can’t have known this.’
Abby didn’t rise to the bait, but simply said, ‘Let us see how it all unfolds. One thing I do feel…’ and she smiled a little sadly at Lara ‘…is that we are close to the end of our investigation.’
‘Oh,’ was all Lara could think of to say.
Becky was in early, dressed all in black as usual, but also wearing her glorious scarlet lipstick. Before Lara could comment, Becky called her over to the window, ‘Look! Something’s up over at Honeybourne’s.’
Lara hurried to her side, Abby close on her heels.
In front of the antique shop a van was parked with ‘Dawson’s Glaziers’ written on the side.
Jason Honeybourne was beside the van talking on his phone.
Lara picked up a bunch of holly and stepped outside to get a better look.
She hung the holly over the handlebars of the old bicycle that today had bunches of creamy hellebores in the basket.
When Jason saw Lara he stopped talking and marched towards her.
‘Good evening last night?’ she asked him, smiling.
‘What?!… What?… Oh, that.’ He was thrown off his stride for a moment. He looked back at the van and then refocused his beady eyes on her. ‘My shop was broken into last night. Do you know anything about that?’ It was close to an accusation.
Lara glanced at the van significantly and registered what she hoped was suitable outrage. ‘No?!’ She tried to sound shocked. ‘I was back late, I didn’t hear a thing,’ she cheerfully lied. ‘What was taken?’ she could not resist asking.
Jason looked at her narrowly. ‘Oh, I think you know what has gone, Miss McGregor,’ he said softly.
‘Really?’ Lara sounded uncertain, then as if something had dawned on her, added, ‘You don’t mean… the Dresden jug? That’s such a shame. I was thinking of treating myself to it.’
Jason started to look less sure of himself so Lara thought she should keep going, ‘Did they get away with a lot? Have you called the police?’ She hoped she was doing a good impression of a concerned fellow trader.
Jason looked uneasy. ‘The police say it was just a broken window and they suspect it was kids fooling around. But someone was in my shop. That’s for sure,’ he stated emphatically.
‘I’d listen to the police if I were you. I’ve always found them to be very reliable,’ she said truthfully. She then handed him some sprigs of holly ‘for his shop’. It was the holly she had cut while waiting to break into his premises the previous evening.
‘Nice touch,’ Abby commented, as they retreated into the flower shop.
The rest of the day passed quickly. The shop was busy from first thing and Lara was pleased when her mum called offering her services for the week before Christmas.
After Lara had gratefully accepted, her mum had asked to speak to Becky.
It seemed she wanted to know if Becky would prefer her to bring a chocolate or a coffee cake when she came to help.
‘Chocolate,’ Abby called from the side-lines, ‘always chocolate.’
There was no opportunity to chat with Abby until the closed sign was up, and all the flowers were in off the street.
Becky had left with a promise to arrive especially early on Monday and Lara collapsed on a stool, her hands sore and aching from all the posies and wreaths she had made – many of which had included holly.
Glancing at her phone, she realised she had an email from her friend Fiona.
She ignored Abby who was just suggesting that she refresh herself with a glass of ratafia and a sprinkling of vinegar on her brow, and opened it.
Fiona came quickly to the point: she could now confirm that Harold was sure the tea caddy was authentic Meissen painted by Johann Gregorius Hvroldt.
Her email was in her normal friendly style, but reading between the lines Lara could sense the suppressed excitement.
Fiona was anxious to contact the owners, and concluded that the V&A museum would be keen to make an offer before it came on the open market.
She then named a fantastic figure that the museum were willing to pay, but stressed that Lara must not tell anyone this.
Lara read the email out to Abby and then lifted up the basket that was still under the counter where she had left it that morning.
‘You are troubled,’ Abby stated, her head on one side.
‘I am,’ Lara half smiled at her, putting the basket on the workbench. ‘I feel I should be delighted, but really this belongs to Richard Porter. And he…’
‘Did not do right by his mother,’ Abby finished. ‘At the very least,’ she murmured, frowning.
‘Oh, Abby, what should I do?’ Lara sighed.
It was a while before Abby spoke. ‘I believe you should consult Mrs M.’
‘Really?!’ Lara was surprised. Yet even as she said it, she realised this is what she had been wanting to do ever since she heard about Mrs M’s story from Richard Porter.
It took some time for Mrs M to open the door to Lara and Abby and when she did Lara thought she looked tired. She also looked wary. ‘Lara?... Is something wrong?’
‘I don’t know, Mrs M, I think so, I’m not sure.’ It only then dawned on Lara that she hadn’t really thought through what she was going to say.
Mrs M studied her for a moment, glanced vaguely in Abby’s direction and said, ‘Well, you’d better come in then.’