‘I shall value, as always, your company.’
‘Where do we start? Do we sniff out all the gardens where the monkshood might have been dug up, but wasn’t?’
‘We also survey the shadows and windy places which have lisp of leaves and rustle of rain.’
‘You’re thinking of the wild variety. Does it grow in these parts?’
‘We shall enjoy some pleasant rambles to find that out, but the cultivated variety must come first. We shall begin by paying a visit to that Mrs Antrobus with whom Margaret Denham was staying when, apparently, the murder was conceived and carried out.’
Mrs Antrobus was doubtful and suspicious of the visitors. ‘You’re not the police,’ she said.
‘Perhaps we are ancillary to them,’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Nevertheless, we have our part to play. I represent the Home Office.’ She produced her official card.
Mrs Antrobus wiped her fingers on her apron and accepted it gingerly. ‘Well, I’d sooner my husband was at home,’ she said, as she handed it back, ‘but I suppose you’d better come in, ma’am.’
‘I would prefer to look at your bed of monkshood plants.’
‘The police have done that. Nothing to see there, except their great boots trampling all over the place. Photographed it and everything, they have, though what it proves except nasty vandals, I can’t see.’
‘So you think the digging up of your flowers was just an act of hooliganism, do you?’
‘What else could it be? My young sister never did it, and that I’ll swear, and did so to that detective fellow, not that he believed me, else why is Mags in prison and her good name blackened for all time?’
‘When did you discover that your garden had been desecrated? asked Dame Beatrice, surveying the trampled flowerbeds.
‘On the Saturday morning as the old lady died at the Sunday dinner table. I reckon the damage was done any time after Wednesday. That was the last time, till the Saturday, as I had occasion to throw out any rubbish. We grows the tall things, sunflowers, hollyhocks, monkshood and a little pergola of rambling roses to screen the bumby-hole, you see, and as it’s right at the bottom of the garden, I don’t traipse down there more often than I need. Trouble is, it’s easy enough to get at it from outside. You’d only have to step over the wall, and that’s no more than four foot high. Any boy or man could do it. Only thing is, nobody in the village wouldn’t.’
‘But somebody did. Have you any suspicions of who that somebody could be?’
‘It’s not for me to name names, not having names to name, but the poor old lady wasn’t one of
‘If we’re going to inspect every local garden and ask questions,’ said Laura, as they left the cottage, ‘we’ve got a long, long trail ahead of us.’
‘Are you weakening so soon?’
‘No, but nothing we’ve just heard convinces me that M. Denham did not dig up those roots.’
‘True. On the other hand, I cannot see that there is anything to show that she did.’
‘You know,’ said Laura, struck by a sudden thought, ‘that looked a very small cottage.’
‘Very small. What of it?’
‘I wondered whether it might not be germane to the issue to ask what the sleeping arrangements were while Margaret D. was there.’
Dame Beatrice, who had been about to enter the car which they had left a short distance away where it was possible to park it, straightened up and said in a tone of teasing wonderment, ‘Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings—’!
‘I call that an extremely offensive remark to make to the mother of two grown-up children,’ said Laura. ‘Do you want me to expound?’
‘I always hang upon your every word, but this time I can guess what you are going to say.’
‘All the same, I bet you’d never have thought of it for yourself.’
‘I confess and admit as much.’
‘You see,’ said Laura, ‘it seems to me that those plants could hardly have been dug up by daylight. Not even Margaret Denham could have been sure of when Mrs Antrobus would or would not decide to chuck away the rubbish.’
‘Margaret herself might have opted to carry out that particular chore, in which case your objection can be overruled.’
‘What! Are you acting as Devil’s Advocate?’
‘It is as well, as you yourself have often said, to explore all avenues and leave no stone unturned.’
‘Well, I’ll stand by that. Still, now that you know what’s in my mind—’
‘I suggest that you go back alone to the cottage and put the question which I had overlooked.’
Laura returned to the car after a considerable interval. Her beaming smile indicated that, as usual, she was feeling pleased with herself.
‘First pop out of the box,’ she announced with pride. ‘I apologised for the fact that you, with your exalted rank, were not up to the problems of the proletariat, and asked her point-blank the moot question. It appears that while Margaret was there, she and Mrs Antrobus shared the one double bed, and husband was relegated to a shakedown in the kitchen. Mrs A., who is expecting her first child in December, stated that she was not sorry to get shut of him for a week or two, but that it had not been for as long as she would have liked. Margaret had had a job to go to
