Poison Flowers by Natasha Cooper

victims. If the killer spent that much time and effort it suggests that the victims must have been chosen for some quite powerful reason: after all, it’s not as though they were simply strangled or shot.’
    Tom got up from the table and strode up and down the long kitchen as though the act of sitting still would make it even more difficult for him to contain his frustration. He reached the window, looked out for a moment over the dustbins ranged in a small yard behind the tall house, and then wheeled round to face Willow again.
    â€˜And yet it is difficult to see what possible connection there could be between a young architect, an almost middle-aged actress, and an elderly retired nurse,’ he said.
    â€˜I know,’ said Willow, leaning forward to pour more coffee into both their cups. ‘Presumably you – or your opposite numbers in Newcastle – have already eliminated the obvious motives in each case?’
    â€˜Oh yes. There are no jealous lovers, blackmailers or anything like that in any of the cases,’ said Tom.
    â€˜Or individual grudges? I’ve heard of lots of people feeling nearly murderous towards their architects.’ Tom shook his head, but he smiled too.
    â€˜We’ve got to start somewhere,’ said Willow, ‘and the things I want to know are: whether they had ever lived in the same place at the same time; shared the same doctor, shared the same bank, worked together in any circumstances whatever, been in the same hospital at the same time…’
    â€˜We’ve been through all the obvious questions and the rest would be almost impossible to establish,’ said Tom gloomily. ‘It’s just those sort of enquiries that take an enormous amount of time and produce nothing very useful in the end. No, I wanted your help for something different.’
    â€˜Come and have some more coffee,’ said Willow, ‘and try to explain what you think I can do if I’m not to ask those sorts of questions.’
    He came back to the table, pulled out his chair and sat down. He picked up the cup she had filled with coffee and sat, holding it to his lips, with both elbows propped on the table.
    â€˜I suppose that I thought you’d be able to see some link that never occurred to the rest of us,’ he said rather hopelessly. ‘I can’t imagine what.’
    Willow saw that his face had taken on the tight unhappy look she had first noticed in the Pimlico restaurant. She was surprised by how personally he was taking the case and she wondered whether there was something he had not told her.
    â€˜Well, I’ll just have to find something a bit more subtle then. We agree that there’s too much coincidence in so many deaths from plant poisons. That being so, there must be a link.’
    â€˜May I make some more coffee?’ Worth asked, pushing himself up off his chair. ‘This is cold.’
    â€˜Yes do,’ said Willow, pleased with his informality and his refusal to assume that as a woman she would make the food and drink available for him. ‘I’ve already put some ferrets down various holes, but I doubt if I’ll get any rabbits for a few days.’
    â€˜Ferrets?’ repeated Tom, turning to watch her face. His voice sounded amused again, which pleased her. ‘Such as?’
    â€˜I’ve arranged to meet the architect’s sister; so that I can find out more from her about him and the girlfriend. I’ve sent a trace in to find out about Miss Fernside’s previous employers – information which I suppose you might well have already, now I come to think of it – and…’
    â€˜Yes, I suppose we have. But I haven’t got it here,’ said Tom.
    â€˜But at your flat?’ asked Willow.
    â€˜No. I’d have to get it from the office. The earliest I could get it to you would be Monday evening.’
    â€˜In which case I might as well wait for the trace. Tom, you are a bit