Page 85 of Ghost in the Garden
“Wouldn’t you if the police were coming? At least they decided to brazen it out rather than bolt.”
They returned to the Frasers’ door, and Solomon knocked again. A faint rustling could be heard, the ghost of a whisper, and then nothing.
“We’re not the peelers,” Constance said, getting her lips as close to the crack in the door as she dared.
A hectic whispering ensued. Solomon raised his eyebrows and then his hand to knock somewhat more forcefully, but before he could, the door opened a crack and Frank Fraser’s nose appeared.
“You again?” he snarled at Solomon. “What d’you want now?”
“Do you want me to tell you out here?” Solomon asked. “The police won’t be so accommodating, you know.”
The door opened another inch, then a foot. Solomon did the rest by simply pushing the door and, for once, walking in ahead of Constance.
The room was warm enough for Fraser to be in his shirt sleeves. Iris wore a pretty pink dress with a modest crinoline. She seemed to have no concept of being out of place in the neighborhood—or perhaps she enjoyed being thegrande dameof the tenement.
“Well?” Fraser asked aggressively, while Iris looked Constance’s rather drab gray dress up and down and all but preened.
“We need to see your keys to Lambert’s property,” Solomon said.
“You ain’t even got the authority to ask,” Fraser sneered.
“True. But the police do, and I suspect they’re already on their way. There’s a possibility we can save them the trouble, but you need to answer our questions and do as we ask. The keys, if you please.”
“Haven’t got any keys,” Iris said loudly. “We don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Solomon sighed. “We saw you using at least two keys last night. The police already know about them.”
“You can’t prove it,” Fraser said. “Neither can they.”
Constance held up the key. “The children found it under your window,” she said, exaggerating the nearness for effect. “They’re now hunting for the rest. How many are they going to find?”
The couple exchanged glances.
“It proves nothing!” Fraser said.
“Along with our testimony, it proves a likelihood,” Solomon said. “Look, we just want the truth. If neither of you killed Gregg or Lambert, I don’t care if you’ve a key to every room in his house. We know about the garden door and the cellar.”
“That’s all I had, sir,” Iris said earnestly. “Truth, sir. Just enough to let me in without his wife knowing.”
“Did you ever use those keys?” Solomon asked, swinging suddenly on Fraser.
“Course I bloody didn’t!” Fraser exploded. “What d’you take me for?”
“Leaving that aside,” Solomon said smoothly, “did you ever lend those keys to anyone else? Between Mrs. Fraser’s visits, perhaps?”
“And have everyone know we had them?” Iris said. “Not a chance!”
“Perhaps you copied them and sold them to one of Lambert’s many enemies,” Constance suggested. “After the collapse next door, for example.”
“After that,” Fraser said forcefully, “we had to be more careful than ever. Everyone knew Lambert was the real landlord, and anyone to do with him had a target on their back. It was hard enough for us without being accused of visiting the bastard.”
“And yet Mrs. Fraser continued to do so,” Constance pointed out, catching Iris’s gaze. “When did Lambert break it off between you?”
Iris blinked. “I wish he bloody had.”
Constance believed her. Which meant Angela had lied. Constance had already been fairly sure of that, though she could understand the pride behind the untruth.
“So whom did you sell those copies to?” Solomon asked.
