Description
A British country house gardening job turns deadly in this cat cosy mystery
I thought my first country house commission would make me look professional. Instead, it made me look like a murder suspect.
Flora Reed here, still learning which end of a trowel to hold and still failing to convince Marmalade the ginger tom that I'm in charge of Catmint Cottage Nursery. But I've survived my first few months in Heatherford, kept most of my plants alive, and even landed a prestigious job redesigning the borders at Hatherleigh House -- a grand estate that needs to impress visiting investors.
What could possibly go wrong? (Spoiler: everything.)
On my first full day on site, the estate's meddling neighbour Audrey Bloom -- who appointed herself supervisor of my work, my staff, and possibly my breathing -- collapses at the edge of my newly planted border after eating a home-baked biscuit. She's dead before the ambulance arrives, and the post-mortem reveals poison.
Suddenly I'm dealing with police interviews, aristocratic clients more concerned about scandal than safety, and mysterious overnight sabotage that's killing sections of my border for no botanical reason. Even worse, the estate's solicitor is threatening to sue me for negligence, which would destroy what's left of my business before it properly begins.
With my invoice unpaid and my reputation in tatters, I can't afford to wait for the police to sort it out. Rowan Vale, my crime novelist neighbour, provides reluctant research assistance. Dr Percy tests soil samples with equipment that probably violates several safety regulations. Nell Harper, my lodger and voice of reason, observes the class warfare playing out between upstairs and downstairs. And Marmalade keeps breaking into the locked potting shed, where he's discovered a stash of mislabelled chemicals and forged plant passports.
Someone at Hatherleigh House is running a profitable side business in rare heritage plants. Audrey stumbled onto the operation while being her usual nosy self, and that got her killed. Now they're trying to frame me, ruin me, or possibly just wait for me to give up and go back to London.
They clearly don't know me. Or Marmalade. And they definitely don't know what we found in that potting shed.
Perfect for readers who love:
• British country house mysteries
• Cat cosy mysteries with clues
• Gardening and plant-based mysteries
• Amateur sleuths vs. upper classes
• Clean whodunnits with fair play
• Slow-burn romance and found family
• First-person British humour
Some borders are meant to be crossed. Some are deadly.
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