Page 112 of Garden of Lies

“The important thing to remember,” Ursula said, “is that additional people would very likely have been murdered and others would have been forced to submit to the misery of blackmail if it had not been for Slater’s inquiries.”

Slater rounded the coffee table, leaned down, wrapped his hands around Ursula’s waist and lifted her off the sofa. He held her so that her satin slippers did not touch the carpet.

“What in blazes do you think you’re doing, woman?” His voice reverberated dangerously around the room. “I’m not going into the private inquiry business.”

“You need a career, Slater,” she said. She braced her hands on his shoulders and looked down at him. “Your days of wandering the world chasing lost artifacts are concluded. You are home now and you must find something new to do with your life. It is time you put your skills to work.”

“What skills?”

“You know how to look for answers. That is a surprisingly uncommon talent. Searching for answers is what private inquiry agents do. Really, it’s what you’ve been doing for years. Now you’ve got the business cards to go with the business, so to speak.”

He set her slowly on her feet. “Never thought of it as a profession.”

“Furthermore, I may be able to assist you from time to time,” she continued. “As a secretary, I can go into a great many places without arousing curiosity or suspicion—business establishments, private homes, almost anywhere, really. Who doesn’t need a secretary from time to time?”

“No.” Slater eyed her with steely determination. “Absolutely not. I forbid it.”

“We can discuss the details later,” she assured him.

“There will be nothing to discuss,” he said.

She sat down quickly and picked up the pot. “More coffee?”

“Damn it, Ursula—”

“Perhaps another sandwich.” She nudged the silver tray across the coffee table.

“Damn it, Ursula—”

“I believe you are repeating yourself. Try the chicken salad sandwiches. They’re excellent. Oh, I do apologize. You’re a vegetarian. The cucumber, perhaps? And by the way, I do love you, you know.”

He looked at her as if he had never seen anything like her in his entire life, as if he was afraid to believe she was real.

“What did you say?” he got out.

“About the chicken salad sandwiches?”

They might as well have been alone in the room, she thought. No one else moved. No one spoke a word.

“About loving me,” Slater said.

“You obviously heard me. You seem surprised. I would have thought that you would have learned that much from your labyrinth.”

“I have been afraid to ask the question. Terrified, as a matter of fact. I was afraid the answer might not be the one I wanted to hear.”

Ursula looked at Lilly and Otford. “Would you mind giving us a few minutes alone while we clear up some rather personal matters?”

Lilly shot to her feet. “Not at all, dear. Take your time.”

She swept across the room to the door. Otford hurried after her.

Ursula faced Slater across the low coffee table.

“You, sir?” she said. “Afraid of answers? Forgive me, but I find that difficult to believe.”

“Believe it.”

“Perhaps it’s just as well you did not seek the answer in your labyrinth,” she said. “Some things must be done face-to-face.”