Gardners, Ditchers, and Gravemakers (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 4) by Oliver Davies (free e books to read online TXT) 📕

His house was not unlike Abbie’s. A fairly standard place with a beautiful garden marking it out amongst the others. His car sat in the driveway, so I happily made my way from the car and over to the front door, pressing the bell, grateful once again to not be at a house that was old, dark and terrifying.

I saw his face in the little window in the centre of the door, his eyes wide with surprise, and then the sound of a chain moving, and the door was opened.

“Sergeant Mills do come in,” he said, ushering me into the house. “To what do I owe this?” He closed the door and directed me into a warm kitchen. “I hope all is well. Is Abbie alright?”

“No changes there,” I told him, taking a seat around the rickety table. He moved some things aside and sat down as well, looking at me with his glasses halfway up his nose. “I was wondering if you could help me out with some plants I’ve noticed. I’ve only got the Latin names, and I was hoping to figure out what they were and what they might do.”

He seemed surprised by my request, “and you thought to ask me?”

“You are the expert, Dr Quaid.”

He puffed a little with pride and nodded heartily. “At your service, lad.”

“Terrific.” I pulled my notebook out and turned to the page that I had copied the names down. It was useful that Kask kept those little pegs in the soil to identify them with. The ones that didn’t, I had first attempted to draw, and when that failed, I simply took one of the flowers and pressed it between the pages.

“Right,” Dr Quaid pushed his glasses firmly up his nose, and I ripped out a spare sheet, ready to go. “Tanacetum parthenium,” he read. “Commonly known as Feverfew, which as its name suggests used to be used for treating fevers. Also, quite good for headaches,” he added.

“Is it dangerous?” I asked.

“It can be meddlesome if it’s taken with other medication, but otherwise, it’s fairly safe. This one,” he tapped the next name, “is St John’s Wort.”

“Used for depression,” I knew that one.

“It is. Again, taken with the wrong things and it can be a bother, but otherwise, very useful. This next one is Valerian, useful for sleeping and underneath that, Digitalis purpurea, otherwise known as foxgloves. You didn’t know them?” He asked me with a little judgement in his voice.

“They weren’t flowering,” I defended myself. “They’re poisonous, aren’t they? My mum used to tell me that so I wouldn’t pick them.”

“Some species, yes. But it can be very bad, anything from vomiting to seizures and irregular pulses. Were these all growing together?” He asked.

“Around each other. Why?”

“Well, it’s a fairly standard botanist tool kit, this is. Taxus baccata, English Yew. Can cause paralysis and convulsions, these buggers can.” It was one of the names that jumped out to me most of all, so I underlined that little note.

“What’s this?” He tapped the tissue I had folded up with the page, and I opened it up, revealing the little flowers I had subtly picked from their stems.

“These ones weren’t labelled.”

“Nor would they be,” Dr Quaid murmured, looking over them. “Aconitum,” he pointed to one, “usually called Wolfsbane or Monkshood.” He looked up at me with a frown. “I hope you’ve washed your hands.”

“I used the tissue to pick them,” I admitted, never one to go traipsing around plants that I didn’t know. Dr Quaid nodded approvingly, and I made a note of the plant’s name. “Why would someone grow all of these?” I asked.

“Well, like I said, my boy, for a botanist, a lot of these are staples. So long as you’re careful and know what you’re doing with them, all should be fine. Where did you find them?” He asked.

“In a garden,” I answered simply, wrapping the tissue back up and flipping my notebook closed. Dr Quaid hummed and took his glasses off to clean them.

“Thank you for this, Dr Quaid. You’ve been a real help. Throughout the investigation,” I added. It wasn’t often we were met with such a lack of hostility. The change was jarring, but not unwelcome.

“I only I had been able to do more for Abbie and Sonia,” he told me regretfully. “I mean, I was only in the house when Sonia—” he broke off, clearing his throat and blinking his now wet eyes. “I shall be paying closer attention to my staff from now on. I can tell you that much, sergeant.”

“I’m sure that there was nothing more you could have done,” I answered, rising from the table. “Out of interest, Dr Quaid. Do you grow Nerium at the botanical gardens?”

“We do. But those sorts of plants are very closely monitored. If there was even a leaf out of place, we would know.” He said it with such conviction that I couldn’t doubt him. But it did seem strange, that he would have careful attention applied to the plants, more so than the people. He seemed more comfortable around them. That much was clear. He stood up from the table, and I shook his hand, letting him walk me back to the door.

“Do you remember a Toomas Kask working for you?” I asked. “It would have been some years ago now.”

“Toomas? Vaguely, yes,” he scratched his chin. “I’d have just taken over then, right when he left, in fact. He was a good botanist, but I’m afraid that’s all I could tell you about him.”

“No worries. Thank you for your time and wisdom, Dr Quaid, and my apologies for the sudden intrusion.”

“Anything I can do to help,” he assured me, holding the door open. He stayed there, waving as I got in the car and drove away.

A botanist staple, I thought as I drove. On their own, I doubted that there was much about these plants that would make a jury stop and listen, but together, used in the