Gardner Mystery Writer Novels & Stories

“Not that I saw… but the gardener was near the garage for a while yesterday morning.” Harris made a note. “What was he doing there?” “Sweeping leaves, I think,” the driver replied nervously. Next came the gardener—old Mr. Fred. His wrinkled hands trembled slightly as he sat down. “Mr. Fred,” the detective began calmly, “we have a report that you were near the garage before the accident. What were you doing there?” Fred swallowed hard. “I… I was just cleaning, sir. That’s all.”

Which will only cause me more trouble than help. I walked away from the cafeteria with my lunch and headed straight towards the greenhouse of the academy. This place is always empty, save for the gardener every morning, so this is the perfect spot to eat lunch quietly. And besides, the flowers here are really pretty to look at. Once I finish eating, I throw away my trash in the trash can and stare at the beautiful view of the greenhouse. There are times I wonder if... if my situation is different and I'm not part of my current family what will happen to me?

“Arthur! You’re writing a murder mystery?” “The gardener did it,” he said with a mock-serious whisper. “With the fertilizer.” He tucked the notebook back into his pocket, his eyes twinkling. “It’s terrible, of course. But it’s fun. And it keeps my mind sharp.” We started walking again, our laughter fading into smiles. The sun was beginning its descent, painting the sky in shades of rose and gold. I looked at this man, my husband of over half a century. We had survived wars, both public and private. We had built empires and then willingly walked away from them. We had faced down ghosts and, in the end, made peace with them.

But my pace slowed when I realized one of the voices sounded oddly familiar. I hesitated, stepping back into the shadows. Slowly, carefully, I peered around the corner. The sight before me made my breath hitch. Lila. She stood near the back alley, talking to someone. A man. Wait… Not just any man. It was the dismissed gardener! My heart pounded in my chest. What were they doing here together? It looked like they were conspiring in some way. The gardener wasn’t the same cowering, hesitant worker I remembered from the day we caught him burying that watch. Gone was the nervous demeanor, the stammering excuses.

Joe asked Nick to send that evidence to him but he was not able to comprehend and asked Nick why instead of looking for Fuoco, he suddenly went looking for his old gardner. And, even if he met his gardener after so many years.... how was he able to recognise him if it was Nick and wasn't Nick in disguise? Nick face plamed himself. Sometimes, he doubted if Joe really was intelligent or he just pretended. He told Joe that he was in his disguise only, and the gardener didn't recognise him, it was him who recognised that garnder. He asked him if he had visited Toronto because he appeared familiar to him and that is when he go to know about him. Nick was able to satisfy Joe's doubts and he decide

We walked in silence, my mind reeling on how I was going to interrogate the gardener without raising suspicion that he might not be real. As we entered the guard room, I winced at how emaciated the gardner now looked. It sickened me that there was a mole in here that had framed him for whatever reason. Edgar must suspect the same thing, that he wasn't the real mole or at least he wasn't working alone. Putting me in the middle when I was actively searching for the mole myself for my own benefit didn't sit well with me. “I'll be out here watching.” Edgar mentioned, and then kissed my cheek.

The crystal shard within was cold and hollow, a silent monument to a war fought in the shadows of time. "My head feels like a shattered mirror," Kabir groaned, rubbing his temples as he stood beside her. He looked down at his own hands, then at the surrounding gardens of the Viceregal Lodge. "I remember two distinct lives, Anaya. In one, I am a disgraced detective running from corporate assassins in a high-tech dystopia. In the other... I am just a private investigator who came to Shimla to look into an old, unresolved historical theft from 1947."

After that, continuing to take Vivian Arnold out of the house, going to work, Vivian Arnold looked at Tadhg Walter's wrong face, but did not ask much. Tadhg Walter just wanted to get out of here quickly, if Agatha Leonard knew that Gunner Vivian killed a medicinal plant in the garden, that would be a big deal. Gunner Vivian took the two of them more than half way, at this time there were more and more carriages around, entering the crowded streets, a morning full of energy.

Just the mention of the Gardners’ of Novemton could stir fear in people. “Ms. Nadine, something bad happened!” An old man in a butler attire walked into the room and said to Nadine who was seated before the dressing table. Upon hearing this, Nadine furrowed her beautiful eyebrows. “Yale, what could’ve happened that’s so serious? Is all this panic really necessary?” The old man’s name was Fraser Yale. He was the butler of Fowler House and also Nadine’s subordinate. He was part of the Gardner family and had always worked for the family.

"It's alright. As long as we can get to the bottom of this, I'll be fine with anything." ........ John took Edric’s words to heart, and realized that the situation was precarious. To avoid alerting the enemy that they were on them, he personally investigated the gardener who had cut the wires that led to the blackout. The gardener was a man called Luther Weil. He had been doing gardening work for more than 20 years and loved to gamble and drink. A few days ago, he had lost 20 million dollars from gambling. 20 million dollars was no small amount for a mere gardener but to everyone's surprise, Luther had not shown any signs of distress a debt-loaded person would normally exhibit, and was inste