She stopped at the window and looked out at the shady plaza. Every shop and office in the vicinity, including Raina’s, was done in the Spanish colonial revival style that Adelaide had learned was de rigueur for Burning Cove. The city council wielded a lot of authority when it came to enforcing the strict rules that covered construction and remodeling. The vast majority of structures—from clothing stores to gas stations and everything in between, including the public library, the hospital, and the grand Burning Cove Hotel—featured red tile roofs, white plaster walls, palm-studded courtyards, and a lot of breezy, covered walkways.
The whole town looked like it had been copied from a picture postcard illustration of a Mediterranean village. But Burning Cove was very real, Adelaide thought. She was starting to hope that it was a place she could call home.
“Just promise me you won’t leave Zolanda’s performance convinced that she really does have paranormal powers,” Raina said.
“Not likely.” Adelaide turned around. “Don’t worry about me, Raina.”
“Why do I have the feeling that there is something you haven’t told me about your plans for tomorrow evening?”
Adelaide smiled. “Maybe you’re the one who is psychic. Probably a useful quality in a private investigator. As a matter of fact, there is something I haven’t told you. I have a date for Zolanda’s show.”
Raina’s elegantly arched brows rose. “Well, well, well. That certainly makes things more interesting. Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”
“His name is Jake Truett. He’s my neighbor out on Crescent Beach. He’s here in Burning Cove because his doctor told him he needs an extended stay by the seaside.”
“He’s got health problems?”
“Evidently his nerves have been badly stressed because he has been working too hard.”
“Hmm. Did he ask you to prescribe some herbal blends that will help his nerves?”
“No.” Adelaide winced. “I made the mistake of offering him some advice, though. He was clearly annoyed. He made fun of me for being so serious.”
“Let me get this straight—you are going to the theater tomorrow night with a gentleman who was rude to you when you offered to help him?”
“To be fair, I think I offended him.”
“By offering advice?” Raina’s voice rose in disbelief.
“I doubt if any man wants to admit that he has been diagnosed with exhausted nerves. It was obvious he regretted telling me his reason for being in Burning Cove.”
“How did you respond when he was rude to you?”
Adelaide considered the question briefly. “I was rather rude myself. I assured Mr. Truett that it would be a cold day in hell before he got any more advice from me.”
Raina smiled. “You mean you gave him the edge of your temper?”
“Yep.”
“Good for you. And then you agreed to let him accompany you to the theater.”
“Yep.”
“Hmm.”
“What?”
Raina smiled a little. “You enjoyed it, didn’t you?”
“Enjoyed what?”
“Losing your temper with the gentleman in question.”
“It was,” Adelaide said, “refreshing. Especially when he tried to apologize and then practically begged me to let him escort me to the theater.”
It made me feel normal, she added to herself. As if I didn’t have to hide my real self.
Raina looked thoughtful. “You say his name is Jake Truett?”
“Yes. He used to own an import-export business in Los Angeles.”
“Hmm,” Raina said again.
“I sense suspicion.”
“Well, I am in the private investigation business,” Raina reminded her. “I’m supposed to be suspicious.”
Adelaide sank down on one of the two client chairs in front of the desk. “What is your problem with Mr. Truett? You’ve never even met him.”
“That’s one of the problems. The other is that the import-export business has been known to cover a multitude of illegal activities.”
“Such as?”
“Smuggling comes to mind, as well as the underground trade in forgeries, stolen art, and illegal drugs. The list of illicit activities that can be concealed in the import-export business is endless.”
Adelaide was amused. “You really are the suspicious type.”
“I’ll tell you what.” Raina sat forward and replaced the pencil in the handsome amber plastic tray. “I’ve got some connections in L.A. I’ll make a few phone calls and check out your Mr. Truett. I’ll telephone you as soon as I’ve confirmed that he’s a legitimate businessman.”
“I appreciate your concern,” Adelaide said. She spread her hands. “But what else could he be?”
“You’d be surprised,” Raina said.
“Sometimes you scare me, Raina.”
“Sometimes I scare myself.”
* * *
? ? ?
?Raina telephoned at five o’clock the following evening. Adelaide was still trying to decide what to wear.
“I don’t have a lot of new information on Truett,” Raina said. “He appears to be exactly who he says he is, a widower who inherited his family’s import-export business. He sold the business shortly after his wife died.”
“How did she die?”
“Elizabeth Benton Truett took her own life.”
Adelaide tightened her grip on the phone. “How awful for Jake.”
“I’m sure it was,” Raina said. “Mrs. Truett hanged herself in the basement. Truett found the body.”
“That must have been a terrible shock. No wonder his doctor advised him to rest his nerves.”
“According to my sources, in the wake of Mrs. Truett’s death there were rumors that she may have been involved in an affair. It was all hushed up by her family, of course. The Bentons are a very wealthy, very proud New York clan. I’m told their summer cottage in Bar Harbor is almost as large as the Burning Cove Hotel, and the one in the Hamptons is even larger. They move in exclusive circles and have for several generations.”
“I wonder how Elizabeth wound up on the West Coast.”
“Good question,” Raina said. “Maybe she wanted to be a movie star.”
“Her family background certainly explains why the Bentons wanted to keep the cause of death quiet,” Adelaide said.
Families, especially those that moved in elevated social circles, went to great lengths to keep suicides out of the press. Their concerns were well-founded. The resulting publicity inevitably led to rumors of scandal or, even more dire, speculation that the bloodline was tainted by mental illness.
“That’s all I’ve got for now,” Raina said. “Truett is who he claims to be. I’ll let you know if anything else turns up.”
“Thanks,” Adelaide said.
She hung up the phone and stood quietly for a moment, sorting through the information that Raina had provided. She had sensed from the start that Jake Truett was a man who possessed some closely held secrets. But she had a few secrets of her own. So what if she hadn’t known that his dead wife might have been unhappy in her marriage and taken her own life? Jake didn’t know that he was dating an escapee from an asylum.
Of the two of them it seemed obvious that she was keeping the darkest secrets. She went back upstairs and got dressed.
Chapter 9
Midway through Madam Zolanda’s performance, Jake realized he was enjoying the evening. The pleasure had nothing to do with the psychic’s routine and everything to do with the woman sitting beside him.
When he was near Adelaide Brockton, he felt off-balance: intrigued, curious, and very, very aware of her in a way that should probably concern him.
She was attractive but in an unconventional manner, with a striking profile; impossibly big, very serious sea green eyes; and shoulder-length hair the color of darkest amber. He had known women far more beautiful. Hell, he had been married to one for a few months.
For some reason, however, he found himself fascinated by Adelaide in ways that were altogether new and different. She was far more interesting and intriguing than any other woman he had ever known. At seven o’clock that evening when she had opened the front door of her cottage, he concluded that he was in trouble.
Until that moment he had only seen her in a crisply starched blue and white waitress uniform and an apron, her hair tightly rolled and pinned under a perky little cap. But her smile never failed to dazzle him. Temporarily, at least, her smile had the power to distract him from his grim thoughts and the dark reasons for his presence in Burning Cove.