The Killings at Badger's Drift (Chief Inspector Barnaby #1)

by Caroline Graham

spurred coral root orchid.

She moved forward on tiptoe as if knowing in advance that what she was about to discover should have remained forever secret.

It was his belief, forged by thirty years of looking and listening, that no one ever acted out of character.

The layers

Tom Barnaby loved his wife.

She was, at forty-six, ripely pretty and still enjoyed what she called, with a nudge in her voice, ‘a bit of a cuddle’.

The house was clean and comfortable, and she carried out lots of boring chores in the garden willingly, leaving all the creative and interesting bits to him. She could act very well and sing like the lark ascending, and did both, con brio, in the local amateur operatic and dramatic society. Her only flaw was that she could not cook.

With vigor

two-up two-down,

a small house on two levels that has just two main rooms on the first floor and two bedrooms on the top floor:

Then he saw a rainbow of light bobbing near his feet and looked up. In the loft window of an opulent bungalow close to the Black Boy, a prism of light flashed and a face turned quickly away.

Extremely luxurious

Ikebana is the Japanese art of flower arrangement.

‘That means, for it to look like a natural death, she must’ve drunk it?’

adjective Chiefly British Informal. lacking in vitality or intelligence; stupid, dull, or clumsy.

viburnum bodnantense,

Viburnum × bodnantense, the Bodnant viburnum, is a Group of hybrid flowering plant cultivars of garden origin. They originate in a cross between V. farreri and V. grandiflorum[1] made by Charles Puddle, head gardener to Lord Aberconway at Bodnant Garden, Wales around 1935

‘Here’s the explanation. Who on earth could have brought it in?’ She indicated the jar on the fridge. Barnaby approached and smelt it. The mousey odour made him want to sneeze. He said: ‘Isn’t it parsley?’ ‘My dear man—it’s hemlock.’ ‘What?’ ‘There’s a fieldful of it down by the old railway lines.’

‘No, but he was very good like that…for a Jack Russell. As long as he knew the people, of course. With strangers it was different.’

‘You have to tell the bees when someone dies. Especially if it’s their owner. Otherwise they just clear off.’

‘Emily’s fork’s missing. She always kept it on that shelf with her trowel and apron.’

‘Oh no. She was a creature of habit. Tools cleaned with newspaper and placed on her mat after use.’

This day I breathed first. Time is come round, And where I did begin there shall I end; My life is run his compass.

INFORMAL an old man. Similar: old man elderly man senior citizen pensioner

Barbara was not especially intelligent but she was shrewd and worked hard and quietly, keeping her mouth shut and her eyes alert.

Indifference

Barnaby, who had never been unfaithful in his life,

She could have stepped straight out of one of his centrefolds, Troy

Barnaby thought she was not as young as

all that hard work and hard cash would have you believe.

As if a new you could be found by starving the old you half to death and then tearing the eyebrows out of what was left.

Since her engagement, his sister Katherine was hardly ever at home and Judy walked over to the cottage sometimes, cleaned up a bit, made some coffee. Not too often. She tried to space her visits widely with the secret hope that he might start to miss her.

recognized now that he no longer loved her, indeed wondered if he ever had, but she still had the power.

Looking across at her sad sulky face, it seemed to him that he had thrown away something of unique worth and replaced it with shoddy.

Barbara Lessiter felt

She wondered, for the millionth time in the last five minutes, where the hell she was going t...

Troy

His mother had always had to remove her apron before answering the door. And her headscarf. He could see her now, nervously patting her hair in the hall mirror, smoothing her collar. ‘Mrs Willows to see you, my lady.’

Katherine Lacey.

was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. And her beauty was more than simple perfection of face and form (and how often in any case did you come across that?); it had the remote perfection of a distant star. It smote the heart.

Hers was simply fond but his was not only adoring but triumphant. The triumph of a collector who has spotted a rare and beautiful specimen and, against all the odds, captured it for himself.

she remained unmollified and continued to glare at the two policemen during the questioning of David Whiteley. Troy thought this made her look more beautiful than ever.

Perhaps it was this final rather theatrical touch that gave Barnaby the feeling that the charming scene was in some way unnatural. It seemed so contrivedly perfect; brimming with false pathos like a sentimental Victorian greeting card or an illustration from Dickens.

A collector will naturally expect a covetous attitude on the part of other collectors. Especially with regard to his prize specimen.

He liked what he called ‘a bit of edge’.

He looked at Miss Lacey’s slightly sunburned hand as she knocked at the door. It looked stronger than her rather flower-like appearance would lead you to expect.

She crouched, concealing her face, but not before Barnaby had seen fear leaping to life behind her eyes.

I think these things that are happening…Miss Simpson dying…and now Benjy…and Michael refusing to come on Saturday…I think they’re omens …’ Henry Trace laughed. ‘Beware the Ides of March.’ ‘Don’t laugh.’

Mrs Rainbird

Spends all her time up in the loft with a pair of binoculars.

She then confided that Mrs Rainbird had a son in the box and casket trade. ‘And a slimy little wart he is an’ all. They reckon he keeps his knickers in the fridge.’

gave Troy a radiant smile which bounced off the sergeant’s stony countenance like a ping-pong ball off a concrete slab.

(She addressed him as Mr Barnaby throughout their conversation, perhaps believing that policemen in the higher echelons were, like their medical counterparts, titularly civil.)