Garden of Lies (25 page)

I
told you I believe that Cobb is intent on creating a monopoly to control the drug,” Slater said. “Furthermore, I'm sure he plans to operate his business from New York, not London. And he doesn't want any competition on this side of the Atlantic.”

They were gathered at the breakfast table. Lilly reigned at one end, nibbling delicately on a piece of kippered salmon. Slater sat at the other end, plowing through an enormous mound of eggs and toast while he explained his conclusions. Ursula, seated in the middle, thought he looked remarkably vigorous for a man who could not have gotten more than a few hours of sleep. There was nothing wrong with his appetite, either.

He had said nothing about the locked door of her bedroom. If he had been disappointed, he certainly concealed the fact well. She found his enthusiasm and energy extremely irritating.

“You say you think Lady Fulbrook intends to take some specimens of the ambrosia plant when she runs off to New York with Cobb?” Lilly asked.

“Right.” Slater ate some more eggs. “Specimens or seeds, at least. Regardless, she will no doubt arrange to destroy the rest of the plants in the conservatory. Cobb will want to make certain that no one else can continue in the ambrosia business after he and Lady Fulbrook are gone.”

Ursula put down her fork quite suddenly. “Seeds.”

Lilly and Slater looked at her.

“What is it?” Slater asked.

“When I found Anne Clifton's stenography notebook and jewelry I also found some packets of seeds,” Ursula said. “I think the odds are good that they were from the ambrosia plant.”

Lilly's artfully drawn brows crinkled a little. “Perhaps she intended to cultivate the plant in her own garden.”

“Or sell the seeds to the highest bidder,” Slater said. “Someone like Mrs. Wyatt would have paid well for them.”

A cold chill feathered Ursula's spine. “I think that Anne planned to use them to buy her way into Damian Cobb's side of the business.”

Slater contemplated that possibility. “Huh.”

“It would have been a very bold thing for her to do,” Lilly said quietly. “Cobb is a dangerous man.”

“Anne was a very bold woman,” Ursula said. “And remember, she had been acting as a go-between for Lady Fulbrook and Cobb for months. She may have felt she knew Cobb in a sense—that she understood him. She was not particularly fond of men but she was confident of her ability to manipulate them. She was, after all, a very attractive woman. Lady Fulbrook may have been writing love letters to Cobb but I think Anne was trying to seduce him.”

Slater frowned. “What makes you say that?”

“I haven't had a chance to read through all of the letters from Cobb. They are written under the pen name he used when corresponding with Lady Fulbrook, Mr. Paladin. But I can tell that there was some sort of delicate negotiation going on between the two of them. On the surface Paladin is showing an interest in her short stories but I'm quite sure that is not what they were actually discussing.”

“Anne spent a great deal of time in Lady Fulbrook's company in the conservatory,” Slater said. “She might have learned how to cultivate the ambrosia plant.”

“That would certainly explain some of the oddities in the poems that she wrote down in her notebook,” Ursula said. “There are several references to quantities and times. I remember one line in particular, the
flower is delicate and potent. Three parts in ten bring on visions that thrill. Seven will kill.
”

“Your friend was playing a very dangerous game, indeed,” Slater said softly.

“I know,” Ursula said. “I can tell you one thing. If Cobb intends to destroy all those herbs in Lady Fulbrook's special greenhouse before going back to New York, he's going to have to do something drastic. That room in the conservatory is crammed with those bloody damned ambrosia plants.”

There was a short silence. Ursula continued to munch toast for a few seconds until she realized that both Lilly and Slater were watching her.

“What?” she said around a bite of toast. “Did I say something?”

Lilly chuckled and went back to her salmon.

Slater cleared his throat. “I believe it was the phrase
bloody damned ambrosia plants
that stopped us for a moment. You sounded somewhat annoyed.”

“I am annoyed.” Ursula swallowed the last of the toast and reached for her coffee cup. “With the slow pace of our investigation.”

Lilly raised her brows. “I thought you and Slater were making excellent progress.”

“Depends on one's point of view,” Ursula said. She looked at Slater. “As I recall, you were describing what you discovered in Mrs. Wyatt's financial records. But how does that lead us to the proof we will need to have someone arrested for Anne's murder?”

Mrs. Webster appeared in the doorway before Slater could respond. She carried a silver salver. A single envelope sat on the tray.

“This telegram was just delivered, sir,” she announced in her carrying voice.

Slater winced a little and took the envelope.

Mrs. Webster departed, stage left, to return to the kitchen.

Ursula and Lilly watched Slater open the envelope. He read it quickly and looked up.

“It's from the director of the New York museum. I was right, Damian Cobb is known in philanthropic circles. The director says there has been some speculation regarding the source of Cobb's fortune but no one asks too many questions. That is not the most interesting thing in the telegram, however.”

“For pity's sake,” Ursula snapped, “don't keep us in suspense. This is not a melodrama. What is the point of the damned telegram?”

Slater raised a brow at her sharp tones but he did not comment.

“According to the museum director, the staff at Cobb's New York mansion claim that he left on a business trip ten days ago.”

“The Atlantic crossing takes about a week,” Ursula said. “Sometimes less. You were right, Slater. Cobb has been in London for at least a few days.”

Mrs. Webster reappeared in the doorway.

“Mr. Otford is here to see you, sir,” she said. “Shall I tell him to wait until you've finished breakfast?”

“No,” Slater said. “If he's here at this hour, he must have something interesting for us. Send him in, please.”

“Yes, sir.” Mrs. Webster started to move back out into the hall.

“You'd better set another place for breakfast, Mrs. Webster,” Slater added. “I have a feeling he will be hungry.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mrs. Webster disappeared. Less than a moment later Gilbert Otford scurried into the room. He stopped short and gazed at the heavily laden sideboard with a worshipful expression.

“Good morning, ladies,” he said. He did not take his attention off the array of serving platters. “Mr. Roxton.”

“Good morning, Otford,” Slater said. “Please join us.”

“Delighted, sir. Thank you.”

There was a flutter of activity before Otford sat down across from Ursula. His plate was heaped high with sausages, toast and eggs. He fell to the meal with enthusiasm.

Slater seemed content to wait until Otford had made some inroads on his breakfast before questioning him but Ursula was not in a patient mood.

“Well, Mr. Otford?” She fixed him with a look. “What have you to tell us?”

“Cost me a small fortune to get one of the housemaids and a footman to chat,” Otford said around a mouthful of sausage. “Those who work at the club have been told to keep quiet about what goes on there. Anyone caught gossiping will be turned off without a reference. No one wants to lose a post at the club because the pay and the gratuities are excellent.”

“That's all you got for Mr. Roxton's money?” Ursula asked. “The information that the servants are well paid?”

Otford looked at Slater, perplexed. “Is she upset about something?”

Slater was suddenly occupied drinking his coffee.

“Mr. Otford,”
Ursula said. “I asked you a question.”

“No, Mrs. Grant—uh—Mrs. Kern,” Otford said hastily. “That was not all I learned. I was just coming to the interesting bits.”

“About time,” Ursula said.

Slater drank a little more coffee and then looked at Otford.

“You were saying?” Slater prompted in a manner that was almost gentle.

“Right.” Otford flipped a page in his notebook. “Here's the information that made my ears prick up. Evidently there are two levels of membership—the general level and the inside elite known as the Vision Chamber members. Those who belong to the Chamber are provided with more intense forms of the drug and some very exclusive services.”

“Exclusive services?” Ursula said. “What are those?”

Otford squirmed in his chair. This time he looked to Lilly for help. She gave him a benign smile and turned to Ursula.

“I believe Mr. Otford is referring to the sorts of exclusive services that only a very expensive brothel such as the Pavilion of Pleasure might be able to provide,” she said.

“Oh.” Ursula sat back in her chair, flushing. She was careful not to let her gaze snag with Slater's. She was quite certain he was amused by her naïveté. “Go on, Mr. Otford.”

He cleared his throat and concentrated on his notes. “Services available only to the members of the Vision Chamber include a choice of partners of either sex and various ages, the use of certain implements and, ah, equipment, designed to enhance physical pleasure—”

“I told you to continue with your report, Mr. Otford, not provide a detailed list of the brothel services offered to the members of the Chamber,” Ursula hissed.

Otford swallowed hard. “Sorry. I beg your pardon. Got confused.”

“You aren't the only one,” Slater said in low tones.

Ursula glared at him. Slater pretended not to notice.

“Carry on, Otford,” he said. “Were you able to find out how the drug is delivered to the Olympus?”

“An excellent question,” Ursula said.

“Thank you,” Slater said in very humble tones.

Otford plunged ahead, speaking rapidly. “One of the footmen said that the ambrosia was delivered by a man with a horse and cart. On the days the drug was scheduled to arrive Fulbrook was always on hand to supervise the unloading of the bags. The drug is stored under lock and key in the basement, along with the spirits and cigars, but it's kept apart in a special room.”

Slater thought about that. “I assume that Fulbrook is the only one with the key to that room?”

“Yes, according to the footman.” Otford winked. “Doesn't mean that a little bit of the drug doesn't go missing from time to time, mind you. In my experience, gentlemen like Fulbrook stop noticing servants after a while. I got the impression from the footman that he and his friends have helped themselves to a little of the drug as well as the brandy and cigars from time to time.”

“You've done some excellent work, Otford,” Slater said.

Otford beamed. “Thank you, sir. It's all quite fascinating, I must say. This story could be huge—absolutely huge.”

Ursula narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps it would be more entertaining if there were fewer murders.”

Otford flushed and grabbed his napkin to stifle a cough.

Slater sat back in his chair. “The next step is to find the deliveryman.”

Otford grunted. “There must be thousands of horses and carts in London.”

Ursula straightened abruptly. “The livery stable near Rosemont's Perfumes.”

Slater gave her an approving smile. “It makes sense that Rosemont would have rented a horse and cart and very likely a driver as well from the nearest establishment that offered such services.”

“Good heavens, why would anyone situate a perfumery near a livery stable?” Lilly asked of no one in particular.

“Because Rosemont was not blending delicate perfumes,” Slater said. “He was brewing a dangerous drug and producing large quantities of it—enough to satisfy not just the requirements of the Olympus Club and Mrs. Wyatt's little side business, but the American market, as well. He needed a way to transport his product across town and to the docks for shipment to New York.”

“Well,” Ursula said very softly.

They all looked at her, waiting for her to say something brilliant.

“Well, what?” Slater asked.

“It just occurs to me that I may have a bit of a flare for this investigation business,” she said, trying for an air of modesty.

“I don't recommend it,” Slater said. “Stick with the stenography profession.”

“Why?” Ursula said, annoyed again.

“In case it has escaped your notice, the income from the private investigation business appears to be somewhat limited. In addition, the price of doing business can be high. I've already lost track of how much money I've had to dispense in the form of bribes, fees and other expenses on this case.”