Timetable of Death by Edward Marston Page A

to an estate in Nottinghamshire on which he once worked.
    When he met the gardener himself, he was able to be more forthright. After introducing himself, he explained exactly why he had come to Melbourne. Gerard Burns stared at him with what seemed like genuine surprise.
    ‘Mr Quayle is dead ?’ he asked in disbelief.
    ‘Have you not heard the news?’
    ‘How could I? We are very cut off here.’
    ‘Reports of the murder have been in all the newspapers, Mr Burns.’
    ‘I’ve no time to read newspapers, Inspector. Looking after these gardens takes up all of my time.’ With a sweep of his arm, he indicated the grounds. ‘It’s hard work to keep them in this condition all the time.’
    ‘You’re obviously very proficient at your trade, sir.’
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘Though I suspect it’s rather like the one in which I’m engaged. It’s never possible to master it because one always has to learn new things.’
    ‘That’s very true of horticulture,’ said Burns, ‘because new plants and shrubs arrive from abroad all the time. You have to learn how to nurture them. Then there are the new ways they keep inventing to kill weeds.’
    Burns spoke openly but there was an underlying surliness in his voice and manner. He clearly wanted to be left aloneto get on with his job. What he least wanted to do was to talk about his time with the Quayle family but Colbeck needed answers and pressed on.
    ‘Where were you three nights ago, sir?’ he asked.
    ‘Why do you want to know?’
    ‘Were you here in Melbourne?’
    ‘No, I wasn’t,’ admitted the other. ‘I went over to Ilkeston to play cricket.’
    ‘Yes, I’ve heard about your prowess as a bowler. I believe that you played for the county when you lived in Nottinghamshire.’
    Burns smiled. ‘We beat the All-England team once. I took seven wickets.’
    ‘And you also played for a team organised by Mr Quayle, I’m told.’ The glowing pride vanished instantly from the gardener’s face. ‘Thanks to you, victory was assured every time. What sort of a captain was Stanley Quayle?’
    ‘That world is long behind me, Inspector.’
    ‘I should imagine that he liked to throw his weight around.’
    ‘If you don’t mind,’ said Burns, sharply, ‘I’d rather not talk about all that.’
    ‘I’m afraid that you’ll have to, sir. Otherwise, I may have to invite you to accompany me to the nearest police station where we can have a more formal interview. A pleasant chat out here in these wonderful gardens is surely preferable to that, is it not?’ Burns gave a reluctant nod. ‘Why did you leave Mr Quayle’s employ?’
    ‘I think you already know that.’
    ‘All I have is one side of the story. I’d like to hear yours.’
    ‘It was a mistake,’ said Burns, vehemently. ‘I broke theirrules and I was dismissed. When you work for people like that, there are lines you’re never allowed to cross. I strayed over them and paid the penalty. Mr Quayle not only had me thrown off the estate, he made sure that I’d never get another job in the county again.’
    ‘So how did you end up here?’
    ‘One of the gentlemen who ran the county cricket team had some influence here. He gave me a letter of introduction and I was taken on. When the head gardener retired, I’d done enough to show that I could replace him.’
    ‘You’ve done well for yourself,’ observed Colbeck, looking around. ‘But you must have had regrets when you left your former post.’
    Burns shifted his feet. ‘I had no regrets on my own account.’
    ‘Yet I daresay you felt sorry for the lady herself.’
    ‘That’s as maybe, Inspector.’
    ‘Have you seen Miss Lydia Quayle since?’
    There was a studied pause. ‘No, I haven’t.’
    ‘Did you want to see her?’
    ‘As I told you,’ snapped Burns, ‘that world is behind me. I’ve put down roots here. I’m married now. I’ve got all I want.’
    Colbeck took a long, hard look at him. Burns met his gaze with a mingled bitterness and