Free The Winter Garden Mystery by Carola Dunn Page B

contribute to his investigation.
I see no need for any of us to attend the inquest, though unfortunately Mr. Goodman and two of the gardeners are required to give evidence.”
    â€œI was told I may be called,” Daisy said, interpreting the sergeant’s “Prob’ly not” the way she chose.
    â€œA distressing prospect for any lady.” Cheered by this dig, Lady Valeria changed the subject. The steak-and-kidney pie and the apple charlotte which followed were enlivened by a blow-by-blow account of her triumph over her incompetent fellow—committee members.
    The rest spoke scarcely a word.
    After lunch, Ben Goodman offered to show Daisy over the interior of the house. She thought he still looked tired, and as the sun still shone she wanted to photograph the courtyard and the back of the house, so she declined.
    â€œTomorrow morning?” she proposed.
    His lips quirked. “No hurry, since you’ve persuaded Lady Valeria to let you stay indefinitely.”
    Daisy managed to take her pictures without climbing on any more urns. Last of all, as the sun sank in the west, she returned to the Winter Garden and shot a few more snaps of Boreas. Not ideal conditions but not too bad, she hoped. Even the most respectable magazine in the world might be glad to print a photo of a most respectable statue which happened to stand in a garden where a brutal murder had occurred.
    She kept her back to the trench.
    When she went in for afternoon tea, only Bobbie was there. They talked about photography. Daisy had the impression that Bobbie was on tenterhooks. Once or twice she seemed on the brink of confiding whatever it was that disturbed her, but she drew back at the last moment.
    Daisy suspected she was giving the same impression. She was dying to talk about Grace, but her chief interest was in Sebastian’s dealings with the dead girl. It wasn’t the sort of subject one could put to a protective sister.
    After tea, Bobbie said she had some letters to write. Daisy decided
she ought to write to her mother, her sister, and Lucy in case they were worried by the reports that were bound to be in the newspapers tomorrow. She finished just in time to change for dinner.
    When she went down to the drawing room, Ben Goodman was alone there. “I’ve been notified that the inquest will be tomorrow afternoon,” he told her, “in the Village Hall.”
    â€œThey didn’t inform me, so I suppose Inspector Dunnett doesn’t want my evidence, but I shall go anyway.”
    â€œI’ll be glad to escort you, Miss Dalrymple.”
    â€œDaisy, please. Thanks, I’d like to go with you. I’ve never been to an inquest. It’ll be interesting, though I must say I’d have liked to give evidence.”
    â€œWhat an unusual young lady you are, Daisy!”
    â€œYoung woman. I have it on the best authority that any lady must find such a prospect distressing.”
    Ben smiled. “It’s good to see someone who isn’t cowed by Lady Valeria.”
    â€œI don’t have to live with her,” Daisy said diplomatically.
    Now she was on Christian-name terms with him, she considered asking him about Sebastian and Grace. After all, he was an employee, not a member of the family. But Lady Valeria came in just then and the moment passed.
    As far as Lady Valeria was concerned, the subject of Grace Moss was closed. Her name was not mentioned once.
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    By the morning Daisy had changed her mind about consulting Ben. It would be unfair to ask him to be disloyal to his employer’s family. Also, his anxiety about Sebastian’s reaction to Grace’s death suggested he was as concerned as Bobbie was to shield her brother—which, in turn, suggested there was a reason to shield him.
    Somehow she’d find out, Daisy vowed, since Inspector Dunnett had cravenly relinquished his duty to investigate. Not that she suspected Sebastian of murder, but so brutal a crime must not