Inspector Rames

Chapter 52

17 November 2186

"Roses," I said into my tabphone. "It was roses."

Hestia Smith shot me an affronted look. "How many times do I have to tell you? He moved the tulips!"

"I have the order typed here as peonies," my florist replied over the audio link.

How the hell could you manage to write peonies instead of roses?

At my side, Alex snapped his fingers, and the hood of his trench coat rose up to cover his head. "Mrs Smith, we've looked around and so have the PRBs. No one has broken into your flat."

Hestia shifted her glare to him. She'd reported a break-in just five minutes after Alex and I had arrived at the police station this morning. We'd spent the past week juggling numerous cases and court appearances, and after I'd snapped at Dixon one time too many, he'd decided that we should destress by attending a simple call-out like uniformed constables. Helpful or relaxing, it wasn't. Hestia had neglected to mention that the suspect was her dead husband until we'd got here.

Elderly, small, and dainty, but by no means a pushover, she'd watched us with quick bird-like eyes as we'd examined the flat. Not satisfied by our conclusion that no one had broken in, she'd followed us all the way outside the building. Now we were shivering in the rain while the PRBs buggered off back to the station.

"You signed it," my florist continued on the other end of the tabphone. "I have the e-signature here. Amber Rames."

"He moved my tulips! I saw Joe standing in my living room! He moved them to the coffee table because he knows I hate having them there, and then he left before I could call! I've told him, don't you ever come into my flat again --"

"It was definitely roses," I said.

"Tulips!" Hestia screeched.

I sighed and hoisted my tabphone further up my earlobe, hoping that the gleam of artificial sunlight against the glass might catch her attention. I'm not talking to you, daft bat!

I shouldn't have been talking to my florist either, but in the run-up to the wedding I'd developed a bad habit of answering calls without checking who it was. And once my florist had casually informed me that four bouquets of peonies had arrived, I hadn't been able to postpone the conversation. Our wedding day was just over a week away, and buying real flowers in 2186 was expensive. So I was going to get the bloody type I'd ordered.

"Mrs Smith," Alex said. "Joe has been dead for three years, and we've..."

"You signed for peonies," my florist repeated. "I sent this to you before they were dispatched, and you --"

"All right, I get it." I dragged a hand through my hair, feeling the November wind and rain wrap their chilly fingers around my scalp. "I signed without looking because I assumed that when I'd asked for roses, you'd written roses. I'm too busy organising the rest of my wedding and searching for spiteful ghosts to be making sure you're doing your job!"

"...and nothing has been disturbed," Alex finished. "We're satisfied that no one has broken into your flat, Mrs Smith."

"The tulips have been disturbed, boy!" Hestia said. "Why won't you listen to me? In my day, every report made to the police was taken seriously."

"Can't you send the peonies back and get me the roses?" I asked.

"Tulips!"

"I don't know if our exchange policy will allow that," my florist said. "And even if we did, I can't guarantee that they'd arrive before your wedding."