“What was your relationship with the late Ms. Wilson?” – There was a pink rose lying casually on the table. It seemed to come from the woman’s garden.
“A professional one.”
“So how about your frequent trips to Ferns Hall?”
“She wanted to extend the house in the back, and on top of the garage. She also needed permits to redecorate the façade. She couldn’t stand those bricks.”
“And you helped her out with that.”
“It’s my job, inspector. I know these things. That’s why she called me. I don’t think…”
“You don’t think what?”
“That drinking a cup of coffee that’s being offered to you is a crime.”
“No.” The inspector dropped his gaze again on the pink rose.
“How did she die then?”
“Suicide. I’m afraid it’s pretty clear now.”
Mr. Sedlar, of Sedlar & Co. broke into a little grunt, then tightened his lips, “She never liked that house…”