Garden of Lies(77)

“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 na?veté. “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.”

“Hmm.” Some of Ursula’s enthusiasm evaporated. “I hadn’t considered the financial angle.”





FORTY-THREE




Aye, sir, Rosemont was in the habit of hiring a horse and cart from my establishment,” Jake Townsend said. “Employed my son, Ned, to load the bags of incense and deliver the goods.”

Slater stood with Ursula at the wide entrance of the livery stable. J. Townsend Livery Services advertised private carriages, wagons and carts for hire. Judging by the size of the stable, however, it appeared to be a small business—he could see only three stalls inside the building and a single, aged, badly sprung carriage. Nevertheless, a stable was a stable and the scent of horses and all things related to them was heavy in the atmosphere.

Townsend was middle-aged, with a weather-beaten face and the tough, wiry build of a man who had spent a lifetime around stables. But he was eager to chat once Slater had made it clear to him that he would be paid for his time and cooperation.