Page 35 of You’re So Vein

The Guerilla Gardener – or Gorilla Gardener, as the village has dubbed him – has revealed their most elaborate display yet. The entire grass verge in front of a local property has been transformed into a carpet of bright red flowers.

The home belongs to Chirag Ahuja, who has returned from an extended stay in hospital for cancer treatment in the early hours of this morning to find the front of his home blanketed in colour.

“It’s amazing,” says Ahuja, who is a local legend and owner of Chirag’s Takeaways. “What a wonderful treat! It’s as if the gardener knew these flowers were my favourites.”

Ahuja stops to pick a bloom and tuck it behind his wife Diya’s ear. The pair beam at each other. Cancer may have touched this house, but it hasn’t dimmed Chirag Ahuja’s light.

“We live in a very special place,” Ahuja reminds this reporter, standing shakily from his wheelchair to hug me before encouraging me to pick some of the flowers for myself. “My daughter Komal is running for mayor to make sure that people like the Gorilla Gardener, who make this town special, get to continue being their weird and wonderful selves. It would be a sad day if this village lost its whimsy and magic.”

12Komal

Mamma: Your father wants to host a launch party for you. It will be lovely and quiet, just a few of his business friends and a couple of reporters. I told him to go ahead. I was wrong to doubt you. It means so much to him that you’re going to be mayor in his stead.

I’ve also decided your first proclamation as mayor should be an official public holiday to celebrate real estate agents! We are the glue that holds the community together.

Argleton Weather Watch: What a beautiful day! I’m kidding, it’s rainy and gross. I hope you don’t have an outdoor wedding to go to because that is cancelled.

“WHAT ARE ALL THESE?” I tuck the red flower behind my ear and slide onto the velvet sofa next to Winnie in the Events room at Nevermore Bookshop. It’s the first night of official late-night shopping, but Nevermore is the only shop in the village still open. I convinced all the other shopkeepers not to adopt the new hours in protest – a small win, but I’ll take it.

Unfortunately, I couldn’t convince Mina to shut Nevermore – she thought late-night shopping was a great idea. And judging by the press of vampires and humans browsing the shelves, the constant DING of the old-fashioned till, and the loud ‘croaks’ of protest from Quoth whenever someone quotes Poe at him, Augustin was right. Damn him.

You win this round, Durant. But I’ve still got the vampire soiree and debate to kick your undead arse.

“I maaaay have told Alaric about our amazing signage ideas, and he thought he should contribute. He’s been up all night making these. It’s his way of saying he trusts you to do a good job with the Conclave.” Winnie holds up one of the posters, revealing an incredible drawing of a fox digging around in a rubbish bin. Above the artwork, the sign reads: “DON’T BE RUBBISH. VOTE KOMAL AHUJA FOR MAYOR.”

“They’re perfect! We can hang them up after our meeting.” They’ll look great next to posters of Augustin looking distinguished (and, if I’m being brutally honest, a little bit suave) in his designer suit. I maaaay have already doodled a little penis on his cheek in every one of his posters, but all’s fair in war and local politics.

It’s not our usual Wednesday book club night, but Beth texted everyone, saying she had something important to share. Normally, Beth having “something to share” means she’s invented a new mushroom cure-all she wants one of us to try, or she’s voice memoing us various medieval torture methods she has planned for Augustin since he rejected her pole studio rebuild, but this time she said it was about the husker case.

The ladies trickle in, one by one, each carrying a stack of books they purchased, because none of us can go into a bookshop without collecting shelf trophies. I shove my own embarrassingly tall stack deeper into my tote bag and accept a glass of wine and a cream doughnut from Celeste.

Mina arrives with the biggest smile on her face. “I left Heathcliff in charge, so hopefully Beth gets here soon. If one more person asks him to match a book to their outfit, he is going to explode. I can’t believe how busy it is! And our new vampire book display has been popular. I wonder if we could do a vampire literary festival…”

“Another great idea.” I make a mental note.

“I’m here!” Beth’s scent enters the room first, an earthy, patchouli aroma from the incense she burns in her shop. She plops down into one of the beanbags, her usually bright features drawn into a frown. “I know how the killer got hold of Alyra’s blood.”

I lean forward. “You do. How?”

“Someone broke into my shop and stole it.”

“What? How did you only just figure this out?” Beth’s shop is right next to mine in a row of old Victorian cottages. Her front rooms are decorated with enough dreamcatchers and Buddha statues to make at least seven different cultures cry “appropriation!” Out back, there’s a small treatment room and a kitchen where Beth mixes up her tinctures, soaps, scrubs and elixirs.

“They jimmied the lock on the kitchen window. I have been so busy at Sanctus doing my vampire treatments that I hadn’t even seen it until today.” Beth’s frown deepens. “I had a small amount of vampire blood stored in my fridge. They took all of it. They must have known what to look for.”

“How would someone know you have vampire blood in your fridge?” Maisie asks.

“Why do you have vampire blood in your fridge?” Arabella flashes her fangs. “Who in their right mind would give you something we don’t even share with each other?”

“I take it from my clients.” Beth tugs at the hem of her yoga top. “My deep tissue treatments don’t work without it. Alyra was the one who showed me that mixing vampire blood into treatments helps them penetrate tough vampire skin.”

Arabella strokes her cheek. “Our skin isn’t tough. It’s radiant.”

“Right. And it’s magical, meaning normal beauty treatments don’t work.” Beth places her head in her hands. “Alyra gave me two vials of her blood, but they’re both gone. I can’t believe I didn’t even notice.”

“So whoever killed Alyra knew that you had this blood.” Mina drags out the murder board and starts typing a Braille label to add to it. “We’re back to them probably being a Sanctus vampire. We’ll need a list of all your clients.”

Beth nods sadly, but Arabella frowns. “We’d better be discreet. Vampires won’t like us knowing their private information.”