The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2), Emmy Ellis [best ebook reader under 100 TXT] 📗

mistaken, it was Cassie’s cleaning crew. She thought back to the early hours, just after one, a load of clonking going on in the street. She hadn’t had the energy to get up and nose outside, and anyroad, Harry’s arm had pinned her down across her stomach. She supposed she should have investigated, considering she had to report any strange matters to Cassie.

But if this was to do with Cassie, Doreen was in the clear.

“You should mind your own business.” Gina walked around her, flouncing off in her pretending-to-be-posh way.

Doreen ignored the silly cow, finished with winding her up now, and rushed forward, catching a curvy woman by her elbow. “Has Brett moved out or something?”

The cleaner nodded. “Did a bunk. Owes Francis some rent.” She shook her head in consternation.

“Oh, what a divvy git.” Stealing from a Grafton. He’s right in the shit.

Pleased she’d know something before Karen, if Cassie hadn’t got hold of her to put the snippet in an emergency pamphlet, she’d pass it on and watch Karen squirm at being one of the last to know.

Doreen tromped the chilly streets, wishing she’d driven her car the wind was so fierce, making it to Karen’s inside five minutes. She knocked, expecting her usual wait, which she swore Karen did on purpose, but the door flew open pretty sharpish.

“Hurry up, we’re in the middle of compiling a new edition.” Karen turned and trotted off down her hallway and into the living room.

Someone had got up on the wrong side of the bed, hadn’t they.

Doreen went inside, glad of the warmth, and joined them. Karen and Sharon sat side by side on the two-seater sofa, so Doreen had to take an armchair. She didn’t mind, she could observe them better by being opposite.

“Brett’s legged it, owing Francis rent,” she said, an eager beaver for their reaction.

Karen snapped her head up from looking at her notepad. “Brett Davis?”

Doreen nodded. “Someone was down the street moving all his gear in the middle of the night, and Cassie’s cleaners are there this morning, which is understandable. Francis won’t want to rent it out all dirty, will she, and you can guarantee it’d be that with Brett living there, filthy swine that he is. I only hope we get someone decent in. I can’t be doing with young people who have parties.”

“Are you sure it was regular cleaners?” Sharon asked—unusual, as she normally let Karen be the foghorn.

Doreen hadn’t thought of that. Cassie had two types of cleaners, one for vacant houses and one for…well, washing away bad things. They sprayed special products that masked blood better than bleach, the kind those firms used when going to crime scenes.

She kicked herself for being so dim and covered it with, “Um, I didn’t take much notice, just that they were coming out with cloths and mops.”

Karen and Sharon stared at each other, then got up at the same time, as though they’d telepathically agreed they would, and skittered into the kitchen, shutting Doreen in the lounge.

What was that in aid of?

Sick of them chatting without her, she got up and pressed her ear to the door, her breathing heavy from her rapid jaunt across the carpet.

“She’s got to fucking go,” Karen said, hissy and angry. “Sounds like she’s had Brett offed for not paying rent. That’s a minor violation, just needs a warning. Lenny would turn in his grave.”

“She’s trying her best to do the right thing.”

Doreen imagined Karen glaring daggers at her friend for that.

Sharon coughed up a lung, a usual occurrence every time Doreen came here.

“’Ere, have a drink,” Karen said.

Water from the tap sloshed.

“Thanks.”

“We’re going to have to do what I said,” Karen went on. “I know you don’t agree with it, but Cassie can’t go round bumping people off willy-nilly.”

“Neither can we. We’re not as young as we were, remember, and even back then I couldn’t kill anyone.”

Doreen’s whole body went funny, limp noodles with a chunk of raspberry jelly thrown in. Kill anyone? They wanted to kill Cassie? That wasn’t on, the lass was only following her dear departed father’s orders, running the estate like he would have wanted. If Brett had messed him about, she was sure he’d have made him disappear, too, especially if he’d pissed him off previous to that.

“What’s your plan?” Sharon sounded wary, not interested in helping Karen out.

“We’ll get her down Sculptor’s Field one night,” Karen said, “make out we want a chat with no eyes and ears, then impale the nutty bitch on The Beast’s tail—after I cut her guts out, because that’s what’s got her into this mess. Too much guts and bluster. She’s not right for the Barrington, we are.”

Through her horror, Doreen smiled. Karen and Sharon wanted the Barrington back? That was a joke. They were much too old for that now, didn’t have the backers they used to, the once-burly men who’d step up and dish out a few punches for them. Those types were past it, had run to fat, no muscle on them anymore, and any others who were fit enough still worked for Cassie and weren’t turncoats. Everyone had given their allegiance to Lenny and now his daughter. How did these two silly mares think they were going to take over? So many people would grass them up if they approached them to help out in this mad plan.

And it was mad, riddled with potholes.

“Look,” Sharon said, her voice raspy from her coughing fit, “I won’t have owt to do with offing her, I told you that last time you said about it. Knocking her off her perch, yes, but outright murder? No. And as for stringing her up on The Beast… Now who’s the mental one?”

“I’m not mental, I just want what’s ours.”

Sharon cleared her throat. “Listen, let’s