Chapter Three
“Ramsay is on his way,” Wyatt said grimly.
Beatrice, who’d checked unsuccessfully for Pearl’s pulse, gave a sigh. “Who on earth could have done such a thing?” asked Beatrice. “Pearl was just out gardening.” She looked more closely at Pearl this time. She was wearing gardening gloves and a hat, and a pile of weeds lay next to her. It almost looked as though she’d decided to take an inopportune nap in the middle of her gardening.
Wyatt shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “I’m going to make sure Barton is all right.”
Beatrice heard a car pulling quickly up to the house. “That’s probably Ramsay. I’ll never get used to how quick the response time is here. I’ll go with you.”
Barton was still slumped against Beatrice’s car, his head in his hands. Ramsay jumped out of his
