Garden of Lies(6)

She had known that he might not be enthusiastic about her decision to investigate Anne’s murder but she had expected him to understand why she had to take action. So much for thinking that she and Slater had formed a connection based on mutual respect.

Now, why did that realization depress her spirits? He was a client, not a potential lover.

She managed a chilly smile. “Please don’t hold back, sir. Feel free to express your true opinions of my plan. But you will have to do so to yourself. I don’t intend to be your audience.”

She started to open the door but he was suddenly there, closing it very firmly.

“A moment, if you please, Mrs. Kern. I am not finished with this conversation.”





THREE




Victory. Perhaps.

Relief spiked with a flicker of hope shot through Ursula. She raised her brows at the cold steel in Slater’s words.

“You have made it clear that you do not approve of what I intend to do,” she said. “What more is there to discuss?”

He eyed her for a long, steady moment and then he seemed to remember that he was holding his spectacles in one hand. Very deliberately he put them on—and she was suddenly quite certain that he did not need them. He wore them for the same reason she wore a widow’s veil, as a shield against the prying gaze of Society.

“What makes you so sure that your secretary was murdered?” he finally asked.

At least he was asking questions now, she thought. That was progress.

“There are a number of reasons,” she said.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m quite certain that Anne did not take her own life. There was no evidence of cyanide or any other poison in the vicinity.”

“Poisons can be subtle in their outward effects.”

“Yes, I know, but even so, Anne was not the least bit depressed. She had recently moved into a nice little house that she was looking forward to purchasing. She had bought new furniture and a new gown. She seemed very happy in her work with a client of long standing and she was making an excellent salary. In addition, Anne hinted that she was occasionally receiving handsome gratuities from her client. In short, Anne was not suffering from any financial problems.”

Slater regarded her with a thoughtful expression and then he walked back across the room. Once again he leaned against his desk and folded his arms. His eyes burned a little behind the lenses of his spectacles.

“I have been told that those who lose friends and loved ones to suicide often say they never saw any advance indications of the victim’s intentions,” he said.

Ursula turned to face him. “That may be true. All I can tell you is that in recent weeks Anne was in excellent spirits. She was so cheerful, in fact, that I had begun to wonder if she was involved in a romantic relationship.”

“That could be your explanation,” Slater said. “A star-crossed love affair.”

“I admit I had begun to wonder if, perhaps, Anne had made the mistake of becoming intimately involved with a man who was connected to her client’s household. I have rules against that sort of thing, of course, and I do my best to protect my secretaries. Forming a romantic liaison with a client or someone connected to the client is always an extremely reckless thing to do. It never ends well.”

“I see,” Slater said, his tone very neutral now.

“The thing is, Anne was a woman of the world. It’s quite possible that she ignored the rules. The client’s husband is a wealthy, powerful man and wealthy, powerful men are often careless when it comes to their affairs.”

Slater said nothing. He just looked at her.

She remembered somewhat belatedly that Slater Roxton was a wealthy, powerful man.

“The thing is,” she continued hurriedly, “Anne was quite capable of protecting herself in such matters. She might enjoy a discreet dalliance but she would never be so foolish as to fall in love with a man she knew could never return her affections.”

Slater gave that some thought. “You say that Anne was doing rather well financially.”

“She was comfortably established with some funds put aside for retirement and a bit of jewelry.”

“Did she leave her possessions and the retirement money to someone?”

Ursula winced. “I was Anne’s sole heir.”

“I see.” Slater exhaled slowly. “Well, there goes that theory of the crime. I can’t imagine that you would be undertaking an investigation that might lead to your arrest.”

“Thank you for that bit of logic. I assure you, I had no reason to want her dead. She was one of my best secretaries—an asset to my agency in every conceivable way. In addition, we were friends. She was the first person who agreed to work for my agency when I went into business two years ago.”

“You say you do not suspect suicide. What makes you think that Miss Clifton might have been murdered?”

“I found a short note next to the body.”

“A farewell note?” Slater asked. His voice gentled with a surprising sympathy.

“No, at least not in the way you mean. She wrote the note with a pencil. I think she was trying to point me toward her killer.”

A great intensity infused Slater. “She wrote the note in pencil? She did not use a pen?”

He did understand, she thought.