He arrived at the florist’s shop just as a Rover was pulling out of a parking spot. In the space of five minutes, he and the young florist had assembled a large bouquet. When it came to selecting flowers, Kingston didn’t waste any time. He not only knew exactly what every single flower was, by common and Latin name, but could also tell right off what was going to last and what was likely to go into terminal shock the minute it left the shop. The bouquet was made up of a dozen white old garden roses, pale peach oriental lilies, tuberose for their fragrance and ferns and salal leaves as filler. Laying the flowers carefully in the boot, he took off for the hospital.
Jamie was waiting at the front door when he arrived, the hospital bracelet still on her wrist. Pulling out of the hospital parking area, Kingston told her about his conversation with Sean. There was no point in saving it for later. She took it remarkably well. Not the reaction that he’d expected. But then again, she had had a lot of time to think about it and must have come to grips with the possibility, no matter how much she wanted to disbelieve it, that someone had purposely sabotaged her car.
‘Are they absolutely sure about the steering, Lawrence? I mean—it seems so—so inconceivable. It doesn’t make any sense. Who would do something like that—and why?’
Kingston took his eyes off the road and glanced at her. ‘There’s no question about it, I’m afraid. The chap at the garage was positive.’
‘God! I could easily have been killed.’ She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. ‘Or someone else could have been killed.’
‘I know. Whoever did it is obviously prepared to go to any lengths to get what they want.’
Jamie leaned back in her seat. ‘So, you think this has something to do with—what?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ve got one theory that makes sense but it doesn’t really explain much.’
‘What’s that?’
‘That your accident and my flat being burgled were done by the same person. To get us off the estate, away from Wickersham.’
She frowned. ‘For what purpose?’
‘So that whoever was responsible could take his or her time having a close look at the chapel.’
‘Her? Surely you don’t think Dot had anything to do with it, or poor old Gwyneth, do you?’
‘I don’t. No. But at the risk of sounding like a cracked record, I’m more convinced than ever that all these things that have been going on are not random incidents. They’re connected.’
‘I know, Lawrence, you’ve told me before, a hundred times—connected to Ryder. You have this fixation that he’s at the bottom of all this—a dead man, mind you—but who is actually doing all this stuff? Who in hell would have purposely wrecked my car? I mean it’s not as though we have a long list of suspects, do we? People ready to run the risk of attempted murder to get what they want—whatever that is.’
Kingston kept his eyes on the road. He was about to respond when she raised the question that had been on his mind. He had expected it sooner.
‘God,’ she said, shaking her head from side to side. ‘I’m beginning to wonder about Jack now. Maybe you’re right after all, and he wasn’t killed because of his debts.’
‘Right. It’s beginning to look more and more likely that that wasn’t the case. You haven’t heard from Chadwick, have you?’
‘No.’
‘I’m not surprised, really. He’s probably getting a little tired of listening to my crackpot ideas. I wonder if he knows about your accident yet?’
‘He must have got a report from the garage by now, don’t you think?’
‘Probably. I think I’d better call him, anyway, when we get back.’
The conversation petered out. Jamie, clearly brooding over the accident, stared out of the window at the countryside.
‘Perhaps you’re right, Lawrence,’ she said eventually. ‘Maybe we should have somebody come in and take a look at the chapel—a contractor—whoever. One way or another, maybe we can get to the bottom of all this.’
‘I think we should.’
Another gap in the conversation, then Kingston spoke. ‘I might as well ask the question, Jamie, because I would imagine Chadwick’s going to, anyway.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Before you came to England, back home, did you have any enemies there? Well, not enemies per se but anybody you can think of that might want to harm you—get their own back—that sort of thing?’
She didn’t reply right away. Then she sighed. ‘I’ve asked myself the same question and the answer is no.’ She gave him a quick glance. ‘Well—there was one thing. It’s taken me all this time to forget it but I suppose there’s no harm done in telling you,’ she said softly. ‘Several weeks before I got news of the inheritance, I broke up with a man who wanted to marry me. His name was Dominic. He was quite a few years older than me but that was fine. He was an architect, good-looking, fairly well off. We’d been going out for six months or so and it looked like the real thing, so we got engaged.’ She paused. ‘Then things started to go wrong. I won’t go into detail, but suddenly he became overly possessive and controlling, constantly pressing to get married. I told him I wanted more time to think about it. He didn’t like that. Then I found out he was following me. It started to get very ugly and I wanted out but he wouldn’t take no for an answer.’ She took her eyes off the road to glance at Kingston. ‘You sure you want to hear all this?’