Pierced Peony (Motts Cold Case Mystery Book) Cozy Mystery by Dahlia Donovan ➱ Book Tour with Giveaway
A cat, a turtle, and a stranger face off in the
garden. The stranger blinks first. Right. The joke still needs some work.
“Do
you always let your turtle and cat out in the garden together?”
“They’re
friends. They like to gossip.” Motts set her trowel to one side and got to her
feet. She dusted the grass and dirt off her knees. “They both need fresh air
and sun in moderation. Are you lost?”
The
man didn’t seem lost despite having popped up beside the back fence around her
garden. He looked like a police officer. Though not quite as broad-shouldered,
he stood as tall as Teo Herceg, the detective inspector she’d met in April and
had been dating for over a month.
“I’m
hoping to speak with Pineapple Mottley.” He sounded like a policeman. His suit,
while nice, appeared rumpled from driving; his short grey hair, however, was
gelled and styled perfectly. “I’m Detective Inspector Dempsey Byrne with the
Metropolitan Police’s cold case unit.”
“Cold
case?” Motts’s heart stuttered in her chest. She rubbed her fingers together
nervously. “Jenny. You’re here about Jenny.”
Jenny
Cleverly had been her lone best friend through her early childhood. Motts had
stumbled across Jenny’s lifeless body on her way home from primary school while
walking through a park, hidden behind a hedge. She still had nightmares about
finding her.
The
unsolved crime had haunted Motts. She’d developed an obsessive curiosity about
cold cases as a result. And at least once a year, she searched online to see if
anyone had been arrested for Jenny’s murder.
“Ms
Mottley?”
“Motts.”
She had a sudden sense of déjà vu; she’d had a similar conversation with Teo in
April. He’d been investigating the murder of a Rhona Walters, who’d been buried
in the garden behind her cottage. It had been an auspicious start to her life
in Polperro. “Cactus.”
Her
beloved Sphynx cat had leapt onto the fence and then over to the detective’s
shoulder. Detective Inspector Byrne didn’t bat an eyelid. He simply reached up
to pat Cactus on his head.
Well, he certainly approves of the random strange man
intruding on our afternoon.
Intruding inspector intrudes introspectively.
Introspectively?
Not my best alliteration.
“I
don’t often see a flowerless garden.” He glanced slowly around at her rows of
fruits and herbs. “None at all?”
“My
allergies try to drown me if I’m around them for too long.” Motts kept flowers
far away from her cottage. Real ones, in any case. She made and sold origami
and quilled floral arrangements as part of her small business, Hollyhock Folded
Blooms. “Why don’t you come in for tea? Cold case curiosities can converse
comfortably.”
Don’t frighten the fancy London detective with your
peculiarities.
The
judgmental voice in her head sounded suspiciously like her mum, who meant well
but couldn’t always relate to Motts’s more unique traits. She didn’t understand
her wayward autistic and asexual daughter. Motts had given up trying to fit
into neurotypical moulds.
I am who I am.
Alliterations and all.
Oh, fun accidental alliterations are the best.
“I
wouldn’t want to impose.”
“Wouldn’t
you?” Motts stared blankly at the man, unable to decide if he was being polite
or not. “You drove from London. At least a five-hour drive on a good day. Tea
isn’t imposing. Sleeping in my garden and trampling the herbs would be.”
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