The Blue Last by Martha Grimes

Gemma?”
    â€œI’m Mr. Tynedale’s ward. A ward is different from being adopted. I’m not related to anybody; I’m kind of left over. Mr. Tynedale’s sick, and he likes me to read to him. I do that every day, nearly. I read The Old Curiosity Shop and I’m a lot like Little Nell, he says. But I don’t think so. She’s kind of sappy.”
    â€œYou’re young to be reading complicated books like that. Even adults sometimes find it hard to read Charles Dickens.”
    â€œI’m nine.” She seemed pleased with herself, being able to read what adults couldn’t. “I skip the hard parts, but it doesn’t hurt because he wrote so many pages about everything.”
    â€œHe did, that’s true.” After a few moments’ contemplation of Gemma and Dickens, Jury said, “I’m here because of Simon Croft. Did you hear what happened to him?”
    â€œYes. He’s dead. He got shot.” She pulled the bonnet down over the doll’s head, hiding the eyes. “What did he do? It must’ve been bad to make somebody shoot him.”
    â€œWe don’t know yet. I’m a detective, incidentally, and I intend to find out.”
    Her look was one of utter astonishment. “ You are? Did Benny send you?”
    â€œBenny? No, he didn’t. Is he a friend?”
    â€œMy best one. He argues a lot, though. If you’re a detective, you should work out who’s trying to kill me. ”
    â€œ Kill you? Why do you think that?”
    â€œBecause they already tried a bunch of times. Once was in the greenhouse.” She pointed to it. “They tried to shoot me when I was thinking about planting something in a pot. Mr. Murphy takes care of the garden.
    Next time when I was asleep in my room somebody tried to choke me and smother me. Next time it was trying to poison me and Mrs. MacLeish nearly quit because she was afraid they blamed her cooking.”
    Jury did not shock easily. But this compendium of crime, delivered by such a small person, in such a matter-of-fact tone, shocked him, although he doubted it had all happened. He could appreciate the melodrama in all of this. Take a child with apparently no family and put her down in the midst of one who wasn’t hers and perhaps indifferent (except for the elderly Oliver), and it would not be surprising that she might concoct this story of these attempts on her life. Still . . . “Tell me more about these incidents, Gemma. I mean, give me more details.”
    â€œI was in the greenhouse, like I said. I was looking at the cuttings Mr. Murphy had in there. I was wondering when he’d plant the snowdrop bulbs. Those over there.” She pointed at the drift of snowdrops he’d noticed before, white petals with a green spot positioned with such regularity in each petal they looked painted. “They’re called Tryms. Like my name, only it’s spelled different. They’re very unusual. I planted one in a pot and looked around for the Day-Gro. I was holding my doll in my other hand, that’s when I heard the glass shatter and felt something whiz by me. I thought maybe somebody threw a rock. That’s that time.
    â€œThe second time I was in bed asleep so I can’t tell you more than I did. Something woke me up; I guess it was because I couldn’t breathe. I yanked open a window and stuck my head out. They got a doctor and they called the police again. I saw a film with a murderer in it who used to put pillows over his victims’ faces.” Gemma stopped to move her doll to a sitting position and then went on for a fascinated Jury.
    â€œThe third time I was eating spotted Dick that Mrs. MacLeish made with custard sauce. I got really sick and the doctor had to come again and said I was lucky I threw up and got rid of it. I said it was poisoned, but he didn’t think it was. That’s all.” She sat back and picked up the doll again.
    Jury was