Garden of Lies(58)

Slater held up a hand. “You are not going to your editor, Otford, not yet at any rate. There is an even bigger story here and you can have an exclusive report if you do what I tell you.”

Otford stopped writing. “A bigger story? Any chance of a whiff of scandal? Readers prefer thrilling news, you see.”

“You cater to such a discerning audience, Mr. Otford.” Ursula gave him a chilly smile. “You must be very proud.”

Otford glared. “I have a responsibility to the public, madam.”

“What about a responsibility to the truth, Mr. Otford?”

“Now, see here, that little incident in the cemetery does not make me a villain, madam.”

“I disagree,” Ursula snapped.

Slater decided to step in before the situation deteriorated further.

“Let’s try to stay on topic,” he said. “I think there is a strong probability that the assassin will attempt to murder someone else and quite soon.”

“Indeed?” Otford brightened.

“Mr. Otford, I think I can safely promise you a story that will help you launch a career as a publisher of one of the most popular weekly crime-reporting magazines in London.” Slater paused a beat before adding softly, “What is more, if you assist us in this investigation, I will help you finance your project.”

Otford looked dazzled. “You would back me financially, sir?”

“Yes, because I think you can be helpful to us.”

“I will do my best, sir. Count on me, Mr. Roxton.”

Ursula raised her eyes to the ceiling and drank some tea.

“In exchange for your assistance in the investigation that Mrs. Kern and I are conducting,” Slater continued, “I will pay your rent this week and provide you with some visible means of support until you are ready to publish your first penny dreadful. But I must have your solemn promise that you will keep your mouth shut until I give you permission to print the story.”

“Absolutely, sir. You have my word as a man of honor.”

Ursula sniffed. “You’re an extortionist, Mr. Otford. That rather undercuts your claim to being a man of honor, don’t you think?”

He contrived to look hurt. “My life has become quite complicated lately, Mrs. Grant.”

“The name is now Mrs. Kern, thanks in large measure to you and your nasty reporting of the Picton divorce trial. And for your information, my life has become complicated, as well.”

Slater held up one hand. “Enough. I think it is time that we all agree to set some priorities and move forward in an effective, efficient manner. First things first. Otford, how did you discover Mrs. Kern’s identity?”

Otford cast an uneasy glance at Ursula and cleared his throat. “As to that, sir, I’m afraid I cannot say.”

“I understand that your journalistic ethics may be of more importance to you than your desire to cooperate in this investigation,” Slater said. “However, if that is the case, I’m afraid our financial arrangements must be canceled.”

Otford was panic-stricken. He waved both hands wildly. “No, no, you misunderstood, sir. I didn’t mean I won’t tell you who informed me—I meant that I can’t tell you. I don’t know the identity of the person who gave me the information.”

Ursula pinned him with a dangerous look. “Then kindly explain how you discovered me.”

“An envelope was pushed under my door earlier this week.” Otford sighed. “Monday afternoon, quite late in the day, to be exact. Someone evidently knew that I had covered the Picton trial and that I would likely recognize you if I saw you again. The note supplied your home address and the address of your secretarial agency. I went around to your office immediately and got a look at you through the window as you were closing up for the day. I knew at once that you were the woman who had testified at the trial. You’ve changed the style of your hair and you wear mourning now, nevertheless, there is something singularly peculiar about you, Mrs. Grant—I mean, Mrs. Kern.”

“Peculiar?” Ursula sounded as if she had her teeth clenched.

“It’s not your looks,” Otford assured her hastily. “They are not particularly memorable but there is something about your character that leaves what I can only describe as a lasting impression.”

Slater thought it wise to distract Ursula before she could counterattack.

“You said you received the message concerning Mrs. Kern on Monday?” he asked.

“That’s right,” Otford said.

Slater looked at Ursula. “That was the same day that you met with Lady Fulbrook for the first time.”

“You did say that someone watched me leave in your carriage that first day,” Ursula said.

Griffith reached for the coffeepot. “Sounds like someone wanted Mrs. Kern out of the way.”

“In that case, why not simply dismiss me?” Ursula said. “That’s what Lady Fulbrook did today.”

“Terminating the arrangement with your secretarial agency might have kept you out of the Fulbrook house,” Slater said, “but it would not have kept you from investigating Miss Clifton’s death.”

“But I didn’t tell anyone that I was investigating,” Ursula said.

Slater raised his brows. “You summoned the police the day you found the body. When that did not do any good, you insisted on taking Miss Clifton’s place as Lady Fulbrook’s secretary. And you were seen leaving that day in my carriage. All in all, I think it’s safe to say that you made someone quite nervous. And the fact that you were seen in my company meant that it would have been risky to simply murder you outright.”