Part 15 (1/2)

”So no one cared anymore,” I said.

”Possibly.”

”But the seeds went somewhere for safekeeping,” I said. ”Or Kevin believed they did.”

”And that is the riddle, isn't it? Or perhaps the treasure hunt.” Zara pulled out her phone and did some scrolling as she walked over to the cash register counter.

The treasure hunt. Kevin had used those same words to describe his search for the seeds that last day at the Tidal Basin. Was that what I'd gotten involved in, along with someone else? A race to find hidden treasure?

Zara scribbled something on a piece of paper and held it out to me. ”Please don't tell Alastair you got this from me. Better he thinks Kevin gave it to you. I suggest e-mailing him first rather than ringing him. Don't worry, he'll be in touch.”

”Thank you.” I tucked the paper in my camera bag.

She walked me to the door. ”I presume, since you knew Kevin so well, you heard about his sister?”

She saw my blank expression. ”Ah, apparently not. Well, I believe it's relevant to what brought Kevin here, his sense of urgency.”

”Please go on.”

”Both his parents died of Alzheimer's disease,” she said. ”His sister, who was two years younger than Kevin, was recently diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimer's.” My shock must have shown, because she added, ”I think that made him even more desperate to find those seeds, because of the apparent potent memory-enhancing property the lewisia plant supposedly possessed. Obviously it's an utter long shot as to whether any seeds could be germinated, but when one is desperate and a beloved sister is going to slowly lose her memory, one will do anything in one's power to prevent it, you know?”

I thought about Chappy. ”Yes, I know.”

”Kevin was making some discreet inquiries amongst contacts in the pharmaceutical industry to find out about Alzheimer's drugs that were being developed, whether there was any possibility of his sister taking part in tests for the most hopeful possibilities.” She held the front door for me. ”He even asked about water hyssop. Good luck, Sophie. I hope you find what you're looking for. And do be careful. Someone was here recently talking to Will, another American, who seemed especially interested in Hyssopus officinalis, as you were. I didn't think anything of it until just now.”

I froze. ”An American? Was it a man or woman?”

”A man.”

”Could you describe him?”

”I'm afraid not. I was in my office and happened to see the two of them together out the window, but their backs were to me. And the gentleman left through the gate on Swan Walk. I asked Will why he let him in when we were closed, and he said the chap was particularly keen to see the garden as he was only in town for a day or two. He managed to talk Will into giving him a tour since he'd come all the way from America.”

”Good Lord,” I said. ”I wonder if his visit had anything to do with Kevin's book. Though who else could have known about the plant?”

”I thought no one knew about it except Kevin, Alastair, and me,” she said. ”It is possible his visit was just a coincidence.”

I said goodbye and walked down Royal Hospital Road toward Sloane Square. But I didn't think the visit of another American to the Chelsea Physic Garden asking about the same plant I did was a coincidence.

Sloane Square was nearly deserted at six o'clock on a chilly Sunday evening. I walked the last half block from Lower Sloane Street to the Underground station entrance thinking about everything Zara Remington had said.

”h.e.l.lo? Sophie?”

Will Tennant waved an arm over his head, signaling me from the fountain in the square across the street. A double-decker bus pulled away from a stop and cut off my view of him. When it pa.s.sed, he ran across the street and joined me.

”I thought I recognized you,” he said in a cheerful voice. ”Have you just come from the garden?”

”I have. Were you waiting for me?”

He gave an odd laugh. ”No, I've just been round to tea with a friend down the King's Road and happened to spot you. How was your visit with Zara?”

”Fine,” I said. ”Apparently I'm not the only American to drop by the garden before it opens in the spring. Zara mentioned you were talking to one of my countrymen the other day.”

He blinked. ”Did she, now?”

”Could you describe him?”

”May I ask why?”

I patted my camera bag. ”I'm a photographer on a.s.signment for a magazine. It's freelance. But I've got this compet.i.tor, you see. I think we're working on the same story. I was just wondering if it was the guy.”

”What does he look like?” He gave me his off-kilter look. ”Maybe I can tell you if it seems like the same chap.”

”Uh . . . pretty average. In his forties, dark hair, blue eyes. A little overweight.” If I made up a description, maybe he would contradict me and tell me what I wanted to know.

He shook his head. ”You're in luck. This fellow was old, white hair, gla.s.ses. A bit stooped. Visiting from . . . what's that state? Missouri, I think he said. From Lincoln.”

”Lincoln is in Nebraska.”

Will looked surprised, but he grinned. ”I guess I got it wrong. Are you walking to the Underground?”

”Yes.”

”Me, too.”

My pa.s.s had expired, so he waited while I bought a new one. ”If you're going to be here for a while, you ought to get an Oyster Card,” he said. ”You can keep topping it off and it usually works out to be a cheaper deal if you pay by the week. You can use it on the buses, too.”

”I know. I used to live here.”

”Did you now?” At the bottom of the stairs he asked which way I was going.

”Victoria,” I said.

”I'm off to Notting Hill Gate. The opposite direction. Are you staying around Victoria?”

”No,” I said. ”Mayfair. Here's my train. I'd better go. Goodbye, Will.”

The train wasn't crowded, and when I boarded, I looked out the window at the platform. Will Tennant was gone. A moment later the bells chimed and we were advised to stand clear of the closing doors. The train left the station and I knew he'd seen right through my con and had lied to me.

What I wondered was, why?

13.

Harry was asleep in the adjoining room when I got back to the Connaught shortly after six, so James brought me a gla.s.s of sherry on a silver tray while I checked my e-mail. Nothing from Nick, which surprised me. We almost never went this long without being in touch. I wrote him a quick note and told him about my day in London, though I left out the details of my meeting with Zara Remington, and said I missed him like crazy, especially here. Then I drafted a vague e-mail to Alastair Innes explaining that I was a friend of Kevin's and was interested in visiting the Seed Bank while I was in London.