Classic Bestsellers from Josephine Cox: Bumper Collection. Josephine Cox

inspector pre-empted Tom’s question. ‘Did you ever see anyone hanging around?’

      ‘No. My assistant always kept a look out, but never saw anyone. Until last time.’

      ‘Where is your assistant now?’

      ‘She’s out the back loading up the van. I’ll get her for you.’ With that she hurried away, returning a moment or two later with Gloria.

      ‘Tell the inspector what you saw.’ The manageress pushed her forward.

      Seeing how nervous she was, Tom addressed her gently. ‘There’s no need to worry,’ he assured her. ‘We just need to ask you about the person you saw at the churchyard the last time you went there.’

      ‘What do you want to know?’ She looked from Tom to the inspector.

      ‘Well,’ the inspector said, ‘for a start, what did he look like?’

      Gloria’s eyes opened wide with astonishment. ‘Oh, no! It wasn’t a man! It was a woman I saw.’ She glanced at her boss, as if she suddenly imagined she was being accused of lying. ‘It was a woman … she spoke to me … asked me questions, she did!’

      Both men were taken aback, but it was the inspector who voiced what was in both their minds. ‘What did she look like … this woman?’

      ‘Auburn hair, long and curly; she was taller than me. About twenty-nine … maybe thirty, I suppose. Oh, and she was dressed smartly, for the office, I reckon.’ A look of envy crossed her homely features. ‘She was attractive and all.’

      The inspector didn’t notice Tom’s look of astonishment as he heard the familiar description. Instead he concentrated on the matter in hand. ‘You said she asked you questions?’

      ‘She did, yes.’

      ‘What kind of questions?’

      The assistant cast her mind back. ‘She asked me if the flowers were from Mr Arnold.’ Glancing at Tom, she saw his reaction, and wondered. ‘She said she was a friend.’ Her implication was clear.

      The inspector continued to question her. ‘What else did she say?’

      ‘Nothing much. She was kinda weird.’ Shrugging her shoulders in a shiver, she added without being prompted, ‘I reckon it was her who’s been vandalising the flowers!’

      Having listened to her account of the woman, Tom was loath to believe the suspicions that were beginning to seep into his mind. ‘What makes you think it was this woman who destroyed the flowers?’ He needed to know.

      ‘Well, because she was spooky … watching every move I made, as if she resented me even being there. She said she was going, but she hung about for a while. She’d already put some roses in the vase, so it was a good job I’d taken a vase of our own.’

      ‘I told her to do that,’ Margaret Taylor informed them with a proud smile, ‘in case the other vase had been broken, or maybe filled with somebody else’s flowers, like before.’

      Nodding appreciatively, the inspector prompted Gloria, ‘Go on … You arranged the flowers, and she hung about. Then what?’

      ‘Well, she went off eventually, and I finished arranging the flowers. Then I went back to my van and collected a couple of other bunches that had been ordered for other graves.’

      ‘And you never saw her again?’

      ‘No, but something awful happened. I had finished in the churchyard, and was just getting into the van when the old caretaker came running. He was in a real bad mood … “Come and see!” he said, and made me go back with him.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘You should have seen the mess!’

      ‘What? You mean the flowers were thrown about like before?’ Tom asked.

      ‘Not only thrown about,’ she replied, her voice growing louder with excitement. ‘All the heads had been broken off, and they were flung all over the place … ever such a long way, like somebody got mad, if you know what I mean.’

      While Tom was trying to take it all in, and slowly coming to realise that he had an idea who the culprit was, the inspector asked, ‘And what about the flowers that the woman had left?’

      The assistant leaned forward, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. ‘Her flowers were still there! I reckon that proves it, don’t you?’

      Before they left, the inspector informed her that she would need to make a statement, and that he himself would be back.

      She didn’t mind. ‘That’s all right,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see whoever could do a thing like that locked up.’

      Outside, the inspector looked preoccupied. ‘It seems to me, we’d best find this woman and bring her in for questioning,’ he told Tom. ‘If she is the one who’s been destroying your flowers, who knows what else she’s been up to?’

      Tom had no choice but to agree.

      He was convinced from the description that the woman in the churchyard was Lilian, but he wasn’t ready to confide in the inspector. He intended speaking with her first. It could well be that the florist’s assistant had got it all wrong.

      Lilian had been a good friend to the family. She and Sheila had known each other well … spending time together, shopping and suchlike. In which case, she might just have been taking flowers as a gesture of friendship.

      He needed to see her to clarify the situation. Even if she had been there, it didn’t mean … he turned his thoughts away from the terrible idea.

      With that in mind, he politely refused the offer of a lift with the inspector. ‘I have things to do,’ he told him. ‘But I’m staying at the White House, if you need to get hold of me. And let me know as soon as you can about the other lead, will you?’

      ‘Of course,’ the inspector assured him. ‘The minute I have any firm news.’

       Chapter 17

      ALICE WAS SHOCKED at Lilian’s appearance when she turned up for work that morning. ‘Whatever’s wrong with you?’ she asked. ‘You look awful!’

      ‘I’ve been ill, haven’t I?’ she lied. ‘Now leave me alone and get on with your work.’ Slamming the door to her office, she threw herself into the chair, leaning over the desk with her head bent forward and her hands over her face.

      She was desolate. It had been the worst few days of her entire life. She had even considered ending it all, but always at the back of her mind was the notion that Tom would want her in the end. She mustn’t upset herself, because he was sure to come looking for her. He loved her. He’d always loved her. He was bound to realise that now.

      In the corridor, Alice was in conversation with one of her colleagues. ‘I’m worried about her.’ She discreetly gestured to the main office where Lilian was still seated at her desk, her hands nervously tapping the surface, her face wreathed in a strange smile. ‘She’s been like that ever since she came in … locked in her office, talking to herself. She’s ill, and I don’t know what to do.’

      Her colleague had no qualms on that score. ‘Fetch Mr Martin. Let him deal with it.’ She peeped at Lilian, who had left her desk and was now pacing the floor, drawing the concerned attention of the other women in the typing pool. ‘She’s obviously not properly recovered from her illness. I dare say he’ll send her home again.’

      Leaving her colleague to man her phone, Alice made her way upstairs to the boss’s office. She tapped on the door, always nervous of this important, influential man. John Martin could make or break a person.

      ‘Come in!’ his authoritative voice boomed out.

      When she gingerly opened the