Page 68 of Garden of Lies

Ursula pinned him with a dangerous look. “Then kindly explain how you discovered me.”

“An envelope was pushed under my door earlier this week.” Otford sighed. “Monday afternoon, quite late in the day, to be exact. Someone evidently knew that I had covered the Picton trial and that I would likely recognize you if I saw you again. The note supplied your home address and the address of your secretarial agency. I went around to your office immediately and got a look at you through the window as you were closing up for the day. I knew at once that you were the woman who had testified at the trial. You’ve changed the style of your hair and you wear mourning now, nevertheless, there is something singularly peculiar about you, Mrs. Grant—I mean, Mrs. Kern.”

“Peculiar?” Ursula sounded as if she had her teeth clenched.

“It’s not your looks,” Otford assured her hastily. “They are not particularly memorable but there is something about your character that leaves what I can only describe as a lasting impression.”

Slater thought it wise to distract Ursula before she could counterattack.

“You said you received the message concerning Mrs. Kern on Monday?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Otford said.

Slater looked at Ursula. “That was the same day that you met with Lady Fulbrook for the first time.”

“You did say that someone watched me leave in your carriage that first day,” Ursula said.

Griffith reached for the coffeepot. “Sounds like someone wanted Mrs. Kern out of the way.”

“In that case, why not simply dismiss me?” Ursula said. “That’s what Lady Fulbrook did today.”

“Terminating the arrangement with your secretarial agency might have kept you out of the Fulbrook house,” Slater said, “but it would not have kept you from investigating Miss Clifton’s death.”

“But I didn’t tell anyone that I was investigating,” Ursula said.

Slater raised his brows. “You summoned the police the day you found the body. When that did not do any good, you insisted on taking Miss Clifton’s place as Lady Fulbrook’s secretary. And you were seen leaving that day in my carriage. All in all, I think it’s safe to say that you made someone quite nervous. And the fact that you were seen in my company meant that it would have been risky to simply murder you outright.”

Ursula swallowed hard. “Because you would no doubt demand—and get—a full-scale police investigation.”

“Which is the last thing Fulbrook wants,” Slater concluded.

Otford perked up again. “I say, do you think Lord Fulbrook is the one who put the message about Mrs. Grant—Mrs. Kern—under my door?”

“More likely he sent a servant to perform the task but, yes, I think it is a distinct possibility that Fulbrook alerted you to Mrs. Kern’s identity.”

Ursula’s eyes glittered with unshed tears. “But that means that Anne must have told him my real identity. Why would she do that? I trusted her.”

Slater wanted to comfort her but he knew that it was not the time. “What Fulbrook could not know was that Otford would try to blackmail you instead of exposing you in the sensation press.”

Otford smiled benignly at Ursula. “There now, I did you a favor, Mrs. Kern. It all worked out well in the end, did it not?”

Ursula did not bother to respond. She grabbed a hankie from her satchel and blotted her eyes.

Slater looked at her. “Today when Griffith came to pick me up at the botanist’s house he told me that Lady Fulbrook had sent you away immediately after she received a message about a houseguest who is due to arrive from America the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s right.” Ursula had herself back under control. She swallowed some tea and lowered the cup. “Lady Fulbrook was visibly cheered by the news. She was excited—said something about not having expected Mr. Cobb until next month. She made it clear that her husband did not think highly of the American but that he was forced to treat Cobb politely because they were business associates. Evidently Cobb is a wealthy, powerful man in New York. Several months ago he entertained Lord and Lady Fulbrook when they visited there.”

“Interesting,” Slater said. Absently he removed his spectacles, took out a handkerchief and began to polish the lenses. “Let us consider what we have here. Two people who have a connection to the ambrosia drug trade are now dead—Anne Clifton and Rosemont. And a wealthy American business associate of Fulbrook’s is on his way to London.”

“There’s something else, as well,” Ursula said. “I saw the ambrosia plants today.”

Slater went still. “Did you?”

“Lady Fulbrook has a hothouse dedicated to cultivating them.”

A sense of knowing whispered through Slater. “That is even more interesting. Another step on the path. The pattern is finally becoming more visible.”

He realized the others had fallen silent and were gazing at him with curious expressions. He put on the spectacles.

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