it I would have nothing to do with it. Not only that, I would also do everything in my power to stop him.’
She took a breath, then continued. ‘I was devastated when that policeman told me what was going on – to learn that Graham was greedy enough and malicious enough to carry out his nasty little plan. I thought that, after our last set-to, he would have dropped the whole despicable idea. It really had nothing to do with him anyway. But he kept throwing it in my face, since his uncle created the rose, as the only other surviving member of the family on my husband’s side, he was entitled to a share of the money. He also argued that he was the one who found out about the rose.’
‘I can imagine how you must have felt,’ said Kingston. ‘It was a shameful thing to do.’
‘Yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘I reminded him that when the house was being sold the man from the estate agent’s office asked me whether there was anything in the garden I wanted to keep – chairs, tables, planters – things like that. I said, no, everything should stay in the garden, where it belonged. So should the rose, I told Graham. In his mind he obviously felt that he had every right to it.’
For a few seconds, she gazed into space, then back to Alex. ‘He must have told his lawyer not to discuss it with me,’ she said, as though the thought had just occurred to her.
‘Did Graham say anything about the particular rose in question?’ asked Kingston.
‘Not really – except, as I said, that it was valuable.’
‘I’m sure you can imagine what a nasty jolt it was, too, when Graham sprang it on Alex and Kate,’ said Kingston, with a sideways glance at Alex.
‘It still is – particularly for Kate,’ Alex added. ‘She’s still worried to death about losing the house.’
‘Regardless of what ultimately happens with the rose, we’d like to be able to tell her that that won’t happen,’ said Kingston.
‘It won’t, I promise you,’ replied Mrs Cooke. ‘The sale of the house was final.’
‘She’ll be very relieved to hear that,’ remarked Alex.
‘Has this lawyer, Stanhope, contacted you, Mrs Cooke?’ asked Kingston.
‘He hasn’t, no. What with Graham’s death and the police and everything, I haven’t had time to call him, either. But if you talk to him, tell him to forget that he ever talked to Graham. I don’t want that on my conscience. No, it’s over with – finished. I’m not interested in money at my age – do as you wish with the confounded rose.’
Kingston watched the relief wash over Alex’s face. ‘Thank you for being so candid, Mrs Cooke,’ he said.
‘It was rude of me and I apologize,’ she said, placing a hand on her bosom. ‘I completely forgot all about the tea.’
‘None for me, thanks,’ said Alex.
She looked at Kingston.
‘No thanks, Mrs Cooke,’ he said. ‘I’m fine, too. In any case, we’ll be leaving soon.’
He leaned forward, chin resting on his clasped hands. His expression hinted that he was about to say something serious. ‘Mrs Cooke,’ he said, ‘the main reason we came today – in addition to offering our condolences – was to clear the air with regard to this whole rose business. To let you know exactly what’s been going on over these last few weeks. Since Kate and Alex discovered the rose in your former garden, a number of disconcerting incidents have taken place – some of them very serious. I won’t go into details right now, but I’m not exaggerating when I say that the rose has become somewhat of a curse.’
Mrs Cooke frowned. ‘A curse?’
‘I know it sounds melodramatic, but, yes, a curse. Alex and I are convinced that Graham’s death, one way or another, can be attributed to the rose. Oh, and Graham was right, by the way – the rose is much more valuable than he led you to believe. Whoever eventually controls the reproduction and licensing rights will become very wealthy.’
Mrs Cooke, who had become very still, regarded him with a doubting gaze. ‘Good gracious,’ she said.
Kingston shrugged and continued. ‘However, the question of ownership has become moot, I’m afraid, because somebody else has the rose now. It goes without saying that whoever took it is only too aware of its value.’
‘You mean it’s been stolen?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Kingston. ‘As a precaution against that happening, we’d taken the rose out of the Parsonage garden and replanted it in a well-hidden garden in Shropshire. But it didn’t make any difference. It was stolen anyway. It’s certain that The Parsonage has been under surveillance. It’s the only explanation.’
‘My goodness, how strange,’ she said.
‘Strange is right,’ said Alex. He could see that Mrs Cooke was grappling with the implications of what Kingston had just told her.
She twiddled her rings, then said, ‘So all this business with the lawyer – it becomes irrelevant, then. Graham’s scheme would have come to nothing, after all.’
‘In most ways, yes,’ Kingston replied.
‘Most ways?’
‘Perhaps Graham didn’t tell you. There was no mention of it in Stanhope’s letter, but it seems he had also managed to unlock your husband’s hybridizing formula that created the rose in the first place. It was entered in code, in one of the journals.’
‘But Graham told me he gave you all the journals, Alex.’
‘All except one,’ Alex replied.
She frowned and shook her head. ‘This is starting to get very confusing.’
Alex nodded in agreement. ‘It is, I know. Graham told us that, a long time ago, just after your husband’s death, you found one of the journals in a safe deposit box. That was the one that contained the formula to replicate the rose. The one that Graham kept.’
‘I see,’ Mrs Cooke replied. But it was clear she didn’t, fully.
Kingston gave her one of his kindly looks. ‘We were wondering whether you could do something for us, Mrs Cooke. If the journal shows up among Graham’s effects, we’d like to take a look at it, if that would be all right with you. It could be very helpful to us.’
‘Yes, that’s fine, but it’ll take me some time to go through all his stuff. He was quite a hoarder, you know.’
‘Whenever you get the chance,’ said Alex. ‘Oh, don’t forget, the rest of your husband’s journals are under the table in the hallway. We apologize for having kept them for so long. Thanks again for lending them to us.’
Mrs Cooke changed the subject. ‘I’m sorry Kate couldn’t come with you. I would have loved to see her again. You’re lucky, Alex, to have such a smart and beautiful wife.’
Alex nodded. ‘I am. Unfortunately she’s away, visiting a friend in Shropshire for a few days. Good old Lawrence is staying with me while she’s gone. Not much of a trade-off – though I must say, he’s good company.’
‘How are things at The Parsonage, Alex? Are you managing to get that garden knocked into shape? I was awfully embarrassed handing it over to you with it looking so bedraggled.’
‘We’ve been working at it. Kate’s out there every single moment she gets. As a matter of fact, Lawrence is helping, too. He doesn’t like my mentioning it, but he was a professor of botany at Edinburgh University. He’s also quite an expert on roses.’
‘Just by looking through those books, I could tell that your husband was a very diligent man,’ said Kingston. ‘And having seen the garden I know he had a profound love for roses.’ He chuckled. ‘I was seduced by them years ago. I never cease to be amazed at the influence roses can have on people. The sheer power they exert.’
‘You would have got on famously with Jeffrey, then. That’s pretty much all he ever thought about. Spent every waking moment out in that greenhouse of his. More or less died out there, too.’ She chuckled, without smiling. ‘Somehow fitting, I suppose.’
‘More or less?’ inquired Alex.
‘Yes, I found him there, late in the day. Lord knows how long he’d been lying face down on the floor. Anyway, the ambulance came and they took him to the hospital in Bath.’
Kingston shifted his position on the sofa again. ‘Perhaps you’d–’
Mrs Cooke held her hand up. ‘No it’s quite all right. It’s easy for me to talk about it now.’ She frowned, and continued. ‘He was in intensive care for two days. I sat at the hospital all that time. Most of it in the waiting room.
