Hot on the Scent

Aphrodite Biffer’s Austin 7 shot through the gatehouse of Lady Marlyn’s estate, past the gardener’s cottage with the wisteria growing up the walls and sped along the driveway. Somehow the manor house seemed much further away than it ever had before.

In the passenger seat, Daisy clutched the dashboard with one hand and held her cloche hat on with the other.

“Don’t you think you could slow down just a teeny bit, Miss Biffer?” Daisy asked, her eyes clamped firmly shut.

“Sorry, Daisy,” Aphrodite said, raising her voice over the sound of the engine and the rushing wind. “The ransom note said they were going to kill the vicar at precisely noon.”

A brief glance at the clock on the dash revealed little over a minute.

The car continued to race along the driveway kicking up a cloud of dust behind it. But the only thing on the estate racing faster than the Austin 7 was Aphrodite’s mind.

She gave a sudden gasp as the realisation struck her like a thunderbolt and she hauled on the Austin’s steering wheel. The car spun, tyres cutting a swathe through the pristine grass, sent a line of croquet hoops flying, and came to a halt facing the way it had just come from.

“Aphrodite, what are you doing?” Daisy wailed. Somewhere in the confusion she’d forgotten to keep hold of her hat and it went tumbling end over end across the lawn, finally coming to rest on the final croquet hoop still standing.

“Daisy, what if it wasn’t Lady Marlyn’s rose-scented perfume we could smell on the ransom note?” As she spoke, Aphrodite pushed her foot down on the accelerator and the car lurched into motion.

“What?”

“What if it was actual roses we could smell? Because the kidnapper had been handling flowers all day?”

Daisy gasped. “You mean Mr Perkins? The gardener?”

“Precisely.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

“We weren’t going to make it to the manor house before noon anyway,” Aphrodite said, through gritted teeth. “At least this way we have a chance!”

They’d reached the ramshackle little cottage now and Aphrodite brought the Austin to a halt in a shower of gravel that bounced off the wisteria-coated wall. The two women tumbled from the car but the low wooden door was locked.

“I say! Open up in there!” Aphrodite called, hammering on the wood.

No response. The shutters were closed, and there was no telling who, if anyone, was in there.

Aphrodite took a step back from the door. It was the original Tudor fitting and it was going to pain her heart to do this far more than her shoulder, but she charged forward all the same. Her slim frame went crashing through in a spray of splinters, her momentum carrying her inside.

She blinked as her eyes adjusted to the darkness. Reverend James sat, tied to a chair with a coarse rope. His chest was rising and falling but he was unconscious, his head lolled forward. Drugged, most likely. Just like the butler had been.

And lying in a heap next to him, unmoving, was Perkins.

“Get up, please, Mr Perkins,” Aphrodite said smoothly. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

Perkins gave a low groan and his eyes slowly opened.

“Miss Biffer?” he said, blinking up at her. “Thank goodness you’re here. I came back from pruning the maze and found the vicar like this. Someone must have given me a wallop on the head.”

Aphrodite drew her light, stubnosed revolver from its custom-made pocket. She’d prefer something which packed a little more punch, but this was the largest weapon she could carry without spoiling the lines of her dress.

“A likely story,” Aphrodite said, her gun trained on Perkins as he wobbled to his feet.

“Really, Miss Biffer…” Perkins protested.

Keeping her eyes glued to Perkins in case he tried any funny business, Aphrodite called to Daisy, still hovering by the remains of the door.

“Attend to the reverend, please, Daisy.”

Her assistant hurried in and began working on the knots binding the vicar. “I don’t understand, Miss Biffer,” she said. “Why would Perkins do it?”

“I tell you, I haven’t done anything,” said Perkins.

Aphrodite ignored him. “Greed,” she said. “With a dash of jealousy to go with it He’d spent years toiling away on this estate. And when he started to suspect Lady Marlyn was actually his half-sister, living in the lap of luxury the whole time? I think that was the final straw.”

“Lady Marlyn? My half-sister?” Perkins said. Aphrodite had to begrudge his acting was creditable.

“First there were the thefts,” Aphrodite continued. “Yes, those rubies were expensive. But taking them was personal, too. Lady Marlyn treasured them above all else. And then the ransoms began. People dear to Lady Marlyn. People you knew she’d pony up for. But why Reverend James? And why the impossible deadline? This was one ransom you never intended to collect. The reverend is the only one able to confirm who your father really was."

As Perkins spluttered a protest, Aphrodite risked a look over her shoulder. Daisy had freed the vicar from his bonds and was laying him gently onto the floor.

“Daisy, be a lamb and tie up our friend Mr Perkins, please.”

For a moment Perkins looked like he was going to resist, and he stood stubbornly where he was, returning Aphrodite’s glare with interest.

But when Aphrodite twitched the revolver to indicate the chair, Perkins’ resolve seemed to crumble. He crossed the room with two lolloping strides and slumped heavily into the seat.

“I will tell Inspector Gainswick about this,” he grumbled. “No one will believe you, you know.”

Aphrodite kept the little revolver trained on him as Daisy bound Perkins up, nimble fingers working quickly.

When Perkins was safely secure, Aphrodite made a quick scan of the cottage. At a first glance nothing seemed out of place. Lots of gleaming implements hung on the walls which might appear menacing to the untrained eye, but Aphrodite recognised them as tools of the gardener’s trade.

Then her gaze settled on a glass jar sat on a rough wooden shelf. A glass jar filled with rose heads.

“That would explain the rose scent on the ransom note,” said Daisy.

“It proves nothing,” said Perkins. “Of course I have flowers about. I’m a gardener, for pity’s sake.”

Aphrodite wasn’t listening. She spoke with a faraway voice.

“I know what you did with Lady Marlyn’s missing rubies.”

“Pfft,” Perkins rolled his eyes. “The lady is an airy-headed creature. I expect she just misplaced them.”

“I rather think not,” Aphrodite said. “Daisy, why don’t you go ahead and open that jar of roses?”

A mystified look crept over Daisy’s delicate features, but she did as she was asked. She pulled the first flower head out of the jar.

Aphrodite said, “We saw those roses floating along the stream at the garden party, didn’t we? We thought they were just for show. But that’s how Perkins got the gems out – he placed them in the flower heads and let them drift downstream to the pond. That’s why Inspector Gainswick couldn’t find it on anyone, no matter how thoroughly he searched.”

As Aphrodite was speaking, Daisy gently unfurled the petals of the flower. Her eyes widened as a brilliant ruby caught the sunlight, sparkling red in her hands.

Perkins finally dropped the facade. “You were never supposed to find out about them,” he said in a low voice.

Then a sly expression crept over him. “Why don’t you keep them?” said Perkins. “They’re worth more money than you’d make in a lifetime. You could keep them and I could disappear. I’d never tell a soul.”

“A generous offer, but I’ll decline,” Aphrodite said. She plucked the priceless gem from Daisy, who was still gazing at it, entranced.

“Daisy, be so good as to go and telephone for Inspector Gainswick. Let him know I’ve solved another of his cases.”