Page 25 of Ghost in the Garden
“To find out who she is.”
“You already know who she is,” Constance said. “Or at least you suspect. Like Bert and Pat.”
Angela stood abruptly and paced to the fireplace, where she turned and faced Constance again. “I don’tknow. It’s the not knowing that troubles me because that means I can’t deal with it. I never believed in ghosts or spirits, never even thought of them until…” She jerked her shoulder, impatient with herself. “Until I suddenly understood that some things are so bad, the dead can’t rest. My husband…”
Her gaze flickered away again. She was a woman stuck between the silent loyalty of years and a painful, desperate need to know the truth.
Pity stirred in Constance. “You suspect something your husband did is beyond forgiveness?” she said gently.
Angela nodded. “A building collapsed with people inside it.”
Back to that. Although her heart gave a little bump of excitement, Constance kept her voice steady. “I read about that. People died.”
“A lot of people,” Angela said, pacing again, twisting the belt of her dressing gown in her fingers. “Too many. Among them was a young woman, little more than a girl, with her own baby. A good, clever girl. I met her once.”
Was this the family Solomon had wanted her to ask about? “You knew one of the people who died?” Constance said cautiously. “That must be awful for you. But why should she haunt this house? Or this garden?”
“She asked me to speak to my husband, to get the building repaired before the worst happened. I never did. Never had time.”
“But your husband wasn’t the landlord,” Constance pointed out. “That was Huxley Gregg.”
“They’re friends,” Angela said shortly. “And I’m a woman who used to be like Cathy Knox, young and strong with nothing but ideals and determination to make a better life. I failed her.”
“Gregg failed her. Why doesn’t she haunthim?”
Angela smiled faintly, seeming to relax. “That’s what I said to myself. I know it’s nothing to do with me, but still, I can’t forget her. Guilt’s a funny thing, isn’t it? Of course, Iknow—in my head—that the ghost isn’t Cathy Knox. Can’t be. I expect Pat and Bert know that too.”
“You think it’s a real person with a grudge?”
“Maybe.”
“A grudge against you or your husband because of your connection with Gregg?”
“That’s what you have to find out.”
“Whatishis connection with Gregg?”
Angela shrugged. “They’ve been friends a long time. Partners in many ventures.”
“In ownership of that building?”
“I don’t know. He says not.”
“But you don’t entirely believe him. Where would I find Gregg?”
“Don’t know. He ain’t been home since the collapse. He doesn’t come here anymore, neither. Which at least keeps Caleb out of it.”
“But he isn’t out of it, is he?”
Angela swung on Constance, seizing her wrist in a grip that hurt. “Don’t ever say that. He’ll kill you.”
Chapter Six
Solomon arrived earlyat the Silver and Grey office to find Janey already at the door waiting for him. She was dressed as a respectable lady’s maid, which it was apparently her ambition to become, but there was no disguising her confident, cheeky grin.
“Wotcha, sir. Sleep in, did you?”
“No,” said Solomon, unlocking the door. It was not yet full daylight.
