Page 51 of Ghost in the Garden
“Why did you say what you did?” he blurted.
“What, duck?”
“That she would give up what she has, notforme but to bewithme?”
Juliet stared at him, then gave a twisted smile. “’Cause I know my girl, son, whether she wants me to or not. She’s always had friends, even men friends who want to be more, but she never looked at any of ’em the way she looks at you. Up to you what you do about it, of course, but whatever the business we do here now, I won’t have…” She trailed off, as though scratching around for the right words to describe what she wouldn’t have.
“Neither will I,” he said hastily, trying to climb free of the glorious, terrifying dream that had overwhelmed him. What in hell had they been talking about? Her old premises. “Boggie,” he said with relief. “Does Boggie know you own the building?”
“Course he does.”
“He doesn’t want your selling business, legal or otherwise,” Solomon said with certainty. ItwasBoggie or his minion who had followed him and warned him off in Seven Dials. And now he knew why. “He wants your building to rent out the rooms. No wonder Lambert’s behind him.”
Chapter Eleven
Leaving Juliet inpossession of Constance’s office, under instruction to answer the door in the unlikely event of anyone calling, Solomon went to visit one of his favored business associates.
Sir Nicholas Swan was an aristocratic rebel who had gone his own way and made his own fortune. Like Solomon, he lived in a large, old house near the river, quite outside the fashionable parts of town, and was on several of the same charitable boards. He also had an interest in commercial properties.
“A shop?” Sir Nicholas said in surprise when they sat comfortably in his home study. “This doesn’t sound like one of your ventures!”
“It isn’t. I’m inquiring for a friend.”
“I’ll send someone round this afternoon, if you like.”
“Thank you. If you could send him here…” Solomon passed over his Silver and Grey card, which made Sir Nicholas blink. “The other thing is…Huxley Gregg. Do you happen to know who his solicitor is?”
“Actually, yes. We had dealings before all this trouble.”
“I want to know who falls heir to Gregg’s estate.”
“Why?”
“I don’t believe he was the sole owner of that building or several others, and I need to know who owns them now.”
Swan frowned. He had a very alarming scowl when he chose. “Give me two minutes,” he said. “I’ll come with you. Oh, and youwillcome to our charity ball, won’t you? We’re raising money to rehouse the surviving victims of the disaster, to build some decent homes with proper plumbing and so on. I know, they need the help now, not in another year, but to be honest, people are more inclined to give after a disaster. My wife is arranging it. She’s bound to have sent you a card.”
“Of course,” said Solomon, who could not recall it. “May I bring a friend?”
Swan grinned. “As many as you like, as long as they—or you—cough up!”
An hour later they entered the offices of Granger, Granger, and Kemp, and were fortunate to discover a harassed-looking Mr. Kemp just arriving.
“Forgive me if I’ve forgotten our appointment,” he said. “I was called away urgently, and my clerk should have canceled everything until this afternoon.” He shuddered. “Mortuaries are not my favorite places.”
“Mortuaries?” Sir Nicholas repeated, startled.
“Yes, I was called away from the office by the police, who wanted me to identify the body of one of my clients. Come in, gentlemen.”
“I don’t suppose,” Solomon said, obligingly moving a heap of papers from one of the visitor’s chairs to a table, “that this dead client’s name is Gregg?”
Kemp froze in the act of hanging up his coat, his gaze fixed on Solomon. “Good God, is it in the newspapers already?”
“Not that I know of, but we came in the hope of discussing with you certain matters relating to Mr. Gregg, and no one has seen him for days.”
“The police found his body in Devil’s Acre,” Kemp said, hanging his coat on the hook and gesturing his guests to sit. “Not a pretty sight, I’m afraid. Dead for days, of course.”
“How many days?” Solomon asked.
