Free The Blue Rose by Anthony Eglin Page B

certain that only the three of you know of the rose’s existence and location – we have what I’ll call a temporary security measure.’
    â€˜We do?’ asked Kate.
    â€˜Yes. I’m surprised you didn’t think of it yourselves.’
    Alex scratched his head. ‘What is it?’ he asked.
    â€˜You simply cut off all the blooms.’
    â€˜Well, of course. Then nobody could tell it from any of the other two hundred odd roses.’
    â€˜Not unless they really know a lot about roses and saw those perfect leaves,’ said Kate.
    Alex shook his head. ‘That’s most unlikely, I would say.’
    â€˜Anyway,’ said Adell, tapping his pen of the desk, ‘do it when you get back. We can talk later about a more permanent security system.’
    â€˜Will do,’ said Alex.
    Kate snapped her finger. ‘I could try drying the roses,’ she said.
    â€˜That’s fine,’ said Adell. ‘But I would caution you not to show them to anybody.’ He looked at his watch. ‘One more thing. Before we do anything, we must establish beyond any doubt that you are the rose’s rightful and sole owners. We can’t proceed until we have recorded that.’
    â€˜Alex and I are a bit confused on that question,’ said Kate. ‘In fact, we don’t see eye to eye on it.’ She glanced at Alex, who made a slight gesture toward Adell as if to say, go ahead, ask him. She turned back to Adell. ‘Well, Alex maintains that since the rose is on our property we are the rightful owners – possession being nine points of the law, as he says. But don’t you think that, if – and I grant you it’s a big “if” – it’s ultimately proved that the rose was created by Major Cooke, not by some freak accident of nature, shouldn’t Mrs Cooke be entitled to the money? Besides, from the staggering numbers being bandied around there’ll be much more money than any of us could ever want.’
    â€˜It’s going to depend on how solid a case we can present,’ said Adell. ‘If, as you speculate, it’s proved later that Major Cooke did indeed create the rose, then Mrs Cooke could, should she so decide, contest our claim. I’m afraid that it’s not possible this early in the game to give you a definitive answer, Kate. Meanwhile, let’s proceed on the assumption that you are the sole owners.’
    Alex smiled at Kate. ‘That’s fine by us,’ he said.
    Kate nodded in agreement.
    They had much to talk about on the cab ride to Paddington station.
    Â 
    With a sigh of resignation, Lawrence Kingston placed the folded newspaper on the side table next to him, took off his bifocals and rubbed his tired eyes. For tonight, he had gone as far as he could with the crossword. It was the Saturday Times jumbo puzzle with over seventy devilishly cryptic clues to solve. After wrestling with it for two hours he’d pencilled in barely a dozen answers.
    Draining the remains of his cognac, Kingston gazed pensively at the framed photo of his daughter, Julie, that occupied a prominent spot on the mantelpiece. She now lived in Seattle and he missed her deeply. She was the only woman remaining in his life and would undoubtedly continue so, for he had no further notions of any female relationships beyond the occasional dinner or theatre date. Since the death of his wife, Megan, some years earlier, he had chosen to remain single.
    Most people dream of retiring to a cottage in the country after a lifetime of work in the city or suburbs, but Lawrence Kingston had chosen to move to London. The city, with its theatres, museums, concert halls, excellent restaurants and libraries, suited his aesthetic tastes. More for the challenge than the income, he accepted a modest consultation job now and again. His two-storey flat on Cadogan Square, conveniently located within walking distance of the elegant shops and amenities of