The Blue Rose

by Anthony Eglin

  Starting from the day of Kate’s first phone call, he matched each so-called player with incidents linking them to the rose. These he wrote underneath each name. It took him nearly an hour to write everything down. When the list was complete, he went over each page, retracing every incident, cross-referencing every encounter and reviewing every known conversation. It took him the best part of another hour before he had gone through all nine pages. When he crossed off the last name, he was no wiser than he was when he started. ‘Damn!’ he muttered.

  Engrossed in the task, he had completely forgotten about Alex. Where in hell was he? He would give him another ten minutes, then go and hammer on his bedroom door.

  He got up and went to the sink, filling the kettle to make a fresh pot of tea. Back at the table he skimmed through his notes one more time, finally putting them aside. He got up and climbed the stairs to wake Alex.

  Ten minutes later they faced each other across the kitchen table as Alex nursed a cup of coffee.

  ‘Sleep at all?’ asked Kingston.

  ‘Not much, no.’

  ‘We’ll see about getting you some sleeping pills today.’

  ‘What’s all this bumf, then?’ Alex asked, rubbing his eyes and picking up one of the torn-off pages of Kingston’s scribblings.

  ‘That “bumf” is the result of a good two hours’ worth of intense brainstorming, conceptualizing and deductive reasoning, I’ll have you know.’

  ‘Did you come up with anything?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Kingston replied with a feeble shake of the head.

  Alex regarded Kingston with bloodshot eyes cushioned with dark puffy bags. His skin was the colour and texture of putty. Even his usually shiny hair was lacklustre and straggly. ‘We’ve probably got until noon. And that’s it,’ Alex said, with the despair of a condemned prisoner praying for an eleventh-hour reprieve from the Home Office. Absently he turned over the front section of the newspaper, pushing it, aimlessly, from side to side.

  Kingston watched, not quite knowing what to say. He caught a glimpse of the newspaper headline: Brighton Nursing Home Scandal Widens.

  ‘Brighton.’

  ‘What?’ said Kingston confused by Alex’s odd comment.

  Alex was staring out the window. ‘That’s right,’ he muttered.

  ‘What?’

  ‘It was something that Adell said. The first time we met him. Maybe I didn’t mention it to you at the time.’

  ‘What, Alex? What?’

  ‘He mentioned that their firm represented a rose grower near Brighton.’

  Kingston was on his feet. ‘God! This could be the break we’ve been hoping for, Alex. The connection is too much of a coincidence. Did he mention any names? Think hard, Alex.’

  ‘I don’t recall. I don’t think so.’

  ‘Alex, don’t you see – there’s more than a fifty-fifty chance that that’s where the rose is right now. The connection is perfect.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Think about it.’ He wagged his forefinger at Alex as he spoke. ‘All along, you and Kate, and Vicky, of course – for obvious reasons – have nurtured Sapphire like a newborn baby.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Alex.

  ‘And we know that whoever took the rose knows of her astronomical value.’

  Alex nodded.

  ‘That being the case, they, too, will make damned sure that she continues to receive the same kind of mollycoddling. They’re sure as hell not going to run even the slightest risk of letting her shrivel up and die, are they?’

  ‘No, they’re not.’

  ‘I can’t imagine why I didn’t think of it before. Wherever the rose is sequestered must be a location where she can get proper expert horticultural care–’

  ‘Like a place that specializes in roses. Adell’s client’s place.’

  ‘Exactly, Alex.’

  Kingston paced the kitchen. ‘We’ve got to get to Adell immediately.’

  Alex frowned. ‘Surely he wouldn’t have stolen the rose, would he? A solicitor?’

  ‘We can’t be certain, but lawyers have been known to commit serious crimes – including murder, I might add. In any case, I’m not suggesting that he stole it, that he did the whole thing single-handed. But I can almost guarantee you that he is somehow involved. It all fits.’

  Alex’s expression quickly darkened. ‘If you’re right, and Adell is directly or indirectly culpable, I’ll see to it that the son of a bitch is disbarred,’ he said, through clenched teeth. ‘What a bastard!’

  ‘Slow down a bit, Alex. It’s only a theory, you know. Let’s not rush our fences.’

  Kingston glanced at the clock. ‘If we leave right now we could be up in town by eleven. We’ll just have to chance his being there. I don’t think we want to deal with this on the phone.’

  ‘What if Wolff calls?’

  ‘He’ll have to leave a message.’

  ‘Why don’t we leave one?’

  ‘A message?’

  ‘On the answering machine. Record a new greetings message. Instead of saying, sorry we missed your call and wait for the beep, record a new message saying that we think we know where the rose is and that we’ll call back later this afternoon. At least we’d be buying some time.’

  ‘Clever idea, Alex. Let’s just hope that we’re right about Adell and his rose grower friend.’

  ‘We’d better be. God, we’d better be.’

  Adell was clearly flummoxed when Alex and Kingston showed up at his office unannounced. ‘This is a surprise, Alex,’ he said, taking his eyes off Alex momentarily to size up Kingston. ‘What brings you two here?’

  ‘We need to talk about something that can’t wait. It’s serious.’ Alex turned toward Kingston. ‘Oh, this is a friend of mine, Dr Lawrence Kingston.’

  ‘Ah yes, the fellow who’s been helping you with the rose,’ Adell said, extending his hand. ‘Pleased to meet you, doctor, at last.’

  ‘Likewise,’ said Kingston, shaking his hand.

  ‘Well, come on in. I have a client due shortly but I can spare a few minutes.’

  He ushered them into his office where they sat at Adell’s desk.

  ‘So, just what is it that can’t wait?’ asked Adell, sliding into his black leather chair. He looked at Alex, then back to Kingston. ‘You look upset. Is something wrong, gentlemen?’

  ‘Very wrong,’ Alex replied.

  ‘What’s this all about?’ Adell asked, putting on his glasses, regarding them across the large expanse of desk.

  Alex looked directly at Adell. ‘Well, to start with, you can forget about the auction.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We no longer have the blue rose. It’s been stolen.’

  ‘Stolen! My God, this is a disaster. The auction–’

  ‘You’ll have to cancel it.’

  ‘I can’t, for Christ’s sake! It’s too late.’ Adell put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘I don’t believe it,’ he sighed.

  ‘Well, you’d better,’ said Alex. ‘That’s not all. Lately, things have turned very nasty.’

  ‘What do you mean by nasty?’

  ‘You’re already aware of the tragic business with Graham Cooke, so I won’t go into that. But other incidents connected to the rose, incidents you’re not aware of, now pose a serious threat – a threat to a number of people. To the point where their lives could be in jeopardy.’

  ‘Serious threat to people’s lives? What are you talking about, Alex?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I’m talking about. Since this rose came into our lives, there’s been nothing but trouble – serious trouble. What if I were to tell you that we know of four people who may have died because of this damned rose.’

  ‘Died! Oh, come–’

  ‘Yes, died,’ Alex interrupted. ‘They’re dead. We’re convinced that more will follow. Lawrence and I have been over every inch of this cursed rose business time and time again and keep coming back to the same place.’ He star
ed at Adell without blinking. ‘We come back to here,’ he barked. He slapped his hand loudly on the desk. ‘To your office.’

  ‘Now wait a moment–’

  Kingston didn’t let him finish. ‘From the very beginning, we believe word of the blue rose was leaked by you. You told somebody who stood to gain from its sale.’

  Adell shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his darting eyes signalling that he was now very much on the defensive. ‘Perhaps you’re not familiar with the confidentiality required of me by the lawyer-client privilege,’ he said, striving to gain the upper hand.

  ‘Screw your privilege,’ Alex snapped. ‘It’s too late for that. For God’s sake, who did you tell about the rose? Who got our file? Who was it?’

  ‘Just calm down, Alex. I don’t know who stole your file. It’s never showed up. So let’s not get into a shouting match. We’ll discuss this civilly, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Go on, then,’ said Alex.

  Adell licked his lips nervously. ‘You remember, I told you from the start that it would be impossible to prevent news of the rose from filtering down through the industry and eventually to the press. I must say, I’m very surprised that the media hasn’t picked up on it yet.’

  ‘I know full well what you predicted – but who did you tell?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Let me finish,’ Adell answered, massaging his temples. He was obviously buying the time to choose his words carefully. ‘I’ll try to explain. Alex,’ he said at last. ‘it was the letter you forwarded to me that got me thinking.’

  ‘The letter from Tanaka?’ asked Alex.

  ‘Yes, the chap who wanted the rose for his client in Japan. I was about to respond by telling him politely not to call you again, that he would have to wait for the auction and hold up his bidding card just like everybody else. Then it occurred to me…’ He took off his glasses, put them on the desk and rubbed his eyes, ‘that this might present the perfect opportunity for me to do Charlie Compton a favour. He’s a client of mine. Runs a rose-growing business down in Sussex, Compton and Sons. I told you about him when you and Kate were last here, do you remember?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Alex. ‘Near Brighton, you said.’

  ‘Right. Our firm did work for his father way back, before my time. Patent stuff, mostly. The company’s not big, by any means – quite small actually. Charlie’s been going through a rough patch this last year or so. Between you and me, they’ve been having trouble lately meeting the payroll. Like a lot of industries, the big boys are getting bigger and the competition more cut-throat.’ He took a breath. ‘Then along comes Tanaka’s letter.’

  Kingston flashed Alex a sly look, at the same time giving his leg a gentle kick behind the cover of the desk.

  ‘Go on. What happened next?’ asked Alex.

  Adell toyed with his glasses. ‘If Tanaka was successful in bidding for the rose, I thought he would need somebody to handle the logistics of moving it: transplanting, shipping, all that kind of stuff. With the high stakes involved, that had to be undertaken by somebody who knew roses. It was out of the question for Charlie’s company to consider bidding for the rose at auction, but I saw no harm in telling Tanaka to contact him. It wasn’t like I was giving Charlie preferential treatment. He just couldn’t be a player. But if he hooked up with Tanaka, he could be a valuable asset. My guess was that he would probably make quite a chunk of money out of such an arrangement.’ He cleared his throat, nervously. ‘Well, I faxed Tanaka and told him about Charlie. Suggested that the two might be able to work something out that could be mutually beneficial. Only if Tanaka was successful in acquiring the rose, of course. Naturally, I couldn’t be involved in any part of it. I made that perfectly clear. That’s about the sum of it, I guess,’ he said, clasping his hands together.

  ‘So, they got together?’

  ‘Yes. Charlie called me later and told me so. That’s all I know.’

  ‘If Tanaka had our address, chances are he gave it to Compton, too.’

  ‘Well…’ Adell fumbled for the right words. ‘I assume he must have because – yes, I remember, now – Compton told me at the time that he wanted to meet you and Kate, Alex. He was very excited about the prospect.’

  ‘So Compton knew early on that we owned the rose – where we lived, too – the whole story,’ said Alex.

  Adell ignored his comment. ‘I told Charlie I’d breached ethical boundaries in telling him. That he must respect that, and not bring up the subject of the rose again. To the best of my knowledge he kept that promise.’ He straightened, and put his glasses in their case, as if to indicate that the conversation was about to end. ‘In any case, just because he knew about the rose hardly means he stole it.’

  ‘Forgive me,’ Kingston said, interrupting. ‘Your Mr Compton seems to me to be far and away our most likely suspect. There’s only one other candidate but for reasons I won’t go into we’re ruling him out for the moment.’

  ‘We must to talk to Compton,’ Alex snapped. ‘Lives could be at stake here.’

  ‘Even his,’ said Kingston.

  Adell snorted. ‘Come on, aren’t you exaggerating a bit?’

  Alex and Kingston exchanged looks. ‘I’m afraid not and I’ll tell you why,’ said Kingston. ‘Alex and I have discovered something else about this ravishing beauty of a rose. It’s hiding a dirty little secret.’

  Adell looked even more confused. He chuckled, nervously. ‘A dirty little secret? Like what?’

  ‘It seems the rose is highly toxic,’ Alex said. ‘Deadly. I’ve already told you that it’s been responsible for the deaths of four people we know of. There could be more, for all we know.’ He waited for the stunned expression to register fully on Adell’s face. ‘If we don’t find the rose, very soon,’ he said, ‘there will be more deaths.’

  ‘If the thorns of that rose draw blood,’ Kingston interjected, ‘death follows within seventy-two hours.’

  ‘How in hell did you find out that the rose was toxic?’

  ‘It’s too long a story, right now, I’m afraid. But believe us, that rose can kill.’ Alex replied. ‘And quickly, I might add.’

  Adell remained silent as he weighed Alex’s words.

  ‘You can see, now, why we must find that rose,’ Kingston said in a measured voice. ‘Why you must help us.’

  Chapter Twenty-two

  I have never had so many good ideas day after day as when I work in the garden.

  John Erskine

  From his business class window seat in British Airways Flight 48 from Seattle to Heathrow, Ira Wolff looked down on the neat green patchwork of fields dotted with red-roofed houses. Compared to the jigsaw archipelago and conifer-clad mountainous terrain of Seattle’s Puget Sound, the scene below looked oddly quaint; like a toy shop miniature. This was his first visit to England. Despite the unpleasant task at hand, he was looking forward to it.

  Marcus was to meet him at the terminal. They would go directly to the farmhouse where Kate Sheppard was being held.

  Taking her had been one of his last options. It was not at all what he had wanted. But weighing the risk against the enormous reward, he had no choice. He had to constantly remind himself that his job, his company, his very existence were on the line. Extreme measures were sometimes unavoidable. A few more days, he reassured himself. Just a few more days and his problems would be over.

  At the cabin attendant’s request, he put his seat in the upright position and placed his reading glasses and book in his briefcase. Wisps of clouds flashed past the window; the Boeing 747-400 was about to land.

  As planned Marcus met Wolff as he cleared customs. The drive to the farmhouse near Steeple Tarrant took about an hour and a half. The day was pleasantly cool, a welcome change from Lakeford’s blistering summer heat.

  ‘Jake tells me Sheppard’s still saying he don’t know where the rose is. He gave Sheppard the forty-eight hours like you said,’ Marcus said, casually.

  Jake Doyle was one of several men on Wolff ’s private payroll. H
e was the man whom Wolff had picked to contact Alex Sheppard. He had been in England from day one, with Marcus and Billy. It was he who had hired the Londoner – a small-time criminal – who had met Alex in Oxford to get the agreement signed.

  ‘When I get through with him he will,’ Wolff said, stifling a yawn.

  ‘Billy’s been keeping a close watch on him. He’s holed up at the house with that friend of his.’

  ‘Good. I just hope that by now he’s realized he’s in a no-win situation. I don’t want to have to paint an ugly picture of what might happen to his wife if he doesn’t come to his senses. Tell the truth, I’m getting tired of Alex Sheppard. How is his wife, anyway? Is she still behaving herself?’

  ‘Up till now she’s been quiet as a mouse – real cooperative, in fact. Billy had one too many beers the other night and wanted to bring her downstairs but I put a quick stop to that.’

  ‘Good.’ Wolff shook his head. ‘What’s wrong with that moron? Get rid of him after this is over – he’s depriving a village somewhere of an idiot.’

  For several miles, Wolff was content to admire the countryside. Winding up the window to lessen the noise, he turned to tell Marcus about his plan of action for the next forty-eight hours.

  It took Alex and Kingston almost three hours to get back to The Parsonage. The traffic getting out of London was horrendous. There was one message on the answering machine. Alex pushed the play button. It was the American. ‘The meter’s run out, Sheppard. I’m giving you one last nickel. I’ll call you again at six this evening but that’s it. If you won’t tell us where the rose is at that time, then the fun and games start with your wife.’ Pause. ‘That’ll be a cryin’ shame. I hear she’s real pretty. Six o’clock, you got it?’

  At a minute after six, the phone rang. Hand trembling, Alex picked it up. Kingston was close by his side.