Page 83 of Ghost in the Garden
Knox himself opened the shop door when Solomon called to him. He gave his shy, distracted smile and motioned them to enter. “Mind the mess, though!”
It was a useful warning, for tools and pieces of wood of many sizes littered the floor. He had begun constructing shelving along all the available back wall.
“It will go around the sides as well, and we’ll have a couple of central cabinets, too,” he said.
Solomon was inspecting the frame nearest the door. “You do good work.”
“I do. I won’t overcharge her.”
“I never supposed you would,” Solomon said, amused. “I would not have recommended you if I had. Actually, we came to pick your brains about Caleb Lambert.”
Constance sat down on a clear patch of floor and set Knox’s tea down. They all sat like children.
“What about Lambert?” Knox asked coldly. His eyes were like flint.
“Did you know he was dead?” Solomon said.
The hard eyes widened and blinked. Some emotion sparked there, though Solomon couldn’t read it. It was almost disappointment, not quite relief.
“Good,” he said. “Saves some poor bastard—begging your pardon, ma’am—from hanging for murder.”
“Actually, it probably doesn’t,” Constance said. “Some bastard, poor or otherwise,didmurder him.”
He stared at her, transferred his gaze to Solomon as though for confirmation, then exhaled slowly. “Forgive me if I hope they never catch him.”
“Then you think it was someone affected by the collapse of the tenement?” Solomon asked.
“Seems reasonable, considering both he and Gregg have been murdered now.”
“Do you know who did it?” Constance asked bluntly.
“No. Though I’m not sure I’d tell you if I did.”
“Can you tell us anything about Lambert’s household? Who lives there, when they come and go?”
Knox’s lips curled back, making his pleasant face ugly. “No. I know where it is, because Miss Janey and me went there and followed his wife from there and back again. On your instructions. Nice, big place,” he added bitterly.
“You didn’t by any chance happen to go there again for any reason? For instance, did you see who went in and out of the grounds yesterday evening?”
“I’d go mad doing that.” There was desolation in Knox’s voice, though he kept his gaze on his hands in his lap. “I couldn’t allow myself near him. I don’t know that would ever have changed.”
“Then you weren’t there?” Solomon persisted, although he tried to infuse disappointment into his voice. Constance had taken great care with the phrasing of her questions, and Solomon had no desire to upset Knox with suspicion on top of what the poor man was already suffering.
“No.” Knox raised his eyes to Solomon’s somewhat defiantly. “But I’m glad he’s dead. Never thought I’d think that about anyone, but I do.”
*
“He didn’t doit,” Constance said with certainty as they walked through the flower market close to her mother’s house. “It’s not in his nature.”
“The trouble is,” Solomon replied, “his nature is not quite stable right now. I could almost believe he did it and lost the memory of it in his own overwhelming grief.”
Constance frowned at him. “Is that even possible? Supposing it is, you have absolutely no evidence of it.”
Solomon was quiet for a moment. “There is violence in him. Behind his eyes. I feel it when he speaks of Lambert. Don’t you? He’s hiding something.”
“Yet you sent him to mymother?”
“He’s not a madman. I’m merely considering possibilities. But if the same person murdered both Gregg and Lambert, I would seriously doubt Lenny is our man. When I first saw him, he seemed…comatose.”
