The Devil's Garden by Debi Marshall Read Free Book Online Page A

Using the insects' life span as a barometer, they count back from the age of the bug or larvae to determine how long they have lived on the corpse.
    Jane is naked, her clothing, handbag and some jewellery items missing. Police delay broadcasting details of the missing jewellery to prevent the killer panicking and disposing of them. The only piece of jewellery found, much later, is Jane's watch, a small distance from her body. The rain, relentlessly pounding her for 54 days, has turned the crime scene into a quagmire, such a washout that Dave Caporn, with pursed lips and extreme understatement, will describe it to the press as being 'not fertile'. It does not provide any clues. But the lilies surround her, tall as a picket fence.
    Trevor Rimmer knows straightaway. Jane has been missing for almost two months and now the police are standing on his doorstep, looking intently at him. They always say 'no news', so as not to get his hopes up, but they don't say this tonight. A handsome man with a gentle face, Trevor says nothing as the police follow him inside. He turns away from them to continue cooking his rack of lamb. The police are used to odd reactions to bad news: shock and overwhelming grief kick the brain into a dull numbness and will keep Trevor buffeted from the pain for a short time, at least. 'Do you want to come with us while we go and tell your wife, or should we just bring her home?'
    Trevor stares at them, unseeing. 'Bring her home,' he says.
    Jenny Rimmer is at the Shenton Hotel where she works, sharing a drink with friends before they return to the house for dinner. The past two months have been so harrowing that she and Trevor have tried to pretend some semblance of normality. Anything, the small rituals, to pretend Jane will return home to them safely.
    Jenny, sitting in the alcove off the main bar, watches as the police walk toward her. An obscene inner voice starts taunting her: This isn't going to be good, this isn't going to be good . She feels the police are moving toward her in slow motion. She knows these police officers who have liaised with the family over the months but wants to cringe from them as they approach. She stumbles to her feet. 'Can we speak to you outside please, Jenny?' The bar has fallen silent, drinks and conversation poised mid-air. She feels insensate and cold and her chin starts quivering; from somewhere a hand reaches out to catch her lest she falls. 'Can we have a quick word please, Jenny?'
    'You've found Jane, haven't you?'
    They didn't want to tell her here, in a bar with people watching, but they now have no choice. They keep their voices calm and low. 'We're sorry. We have found a body. We believe it could be Jane.' A fog has fallen, shrouding her in darkness and she can't hear anything now but a muted scream in her head. She follows the police outside, not noticing as people stand up as a mark of respect for her as she walks past.
    Jenny recalls pieces of the conversation, small trivialities the police tell her but mostly she sees their mouths move, and she feels numb and ill.
    They want to know cause of death, nod mutely when police tell them what happened to Jane. Her throat, it appears, had been slashed. Nature has betrayed the indignities visited on her, swarms of ants rushing to the site of her jugular vein to feast. It is, as a forensic officer will note with grim irony, a 'dead giveaway'.
    Jane's belly button ring is still on her body, and the amethyst ring she wore. But her clothing is gone. Jenny and Trevor brace themselves for the inevitable that they are sure is to follow. Do they want to know? Yes, they do. They can take some consolation, they are told, that it does not appear Jane has been sexually assaulted. It is heartening, a small relief, but one that will haunt them. Are police telling them the truth or simply trying to shield them from further grief? They don't want to dwell in a world of ifs and maybes. They want to know what happened, gritty and sordid as