She was starting to feel as if she was ensnared in a spider’s web. Intuition warned her that the safest course of action was to say as little as possible. Jake had his own priorities—he was after the missing diary. But she had priorities, too. At all costs she had to keep her history at Rushbrook Sanitarium a secret. She could not expect him to believe a word she said—not if he found out that she had escaped from an asylum for the insane.
Jake slowed the car, turned off onto a side road, and came to a stop overlooking a small, secluded beach.
With cool deliberation he shut down the engine and turned to face her. He rested his left hand casually on the wooden steering wheel. His right arm settled on the back of the seat, a position that put his hand directly behind her head.
“The situation is getting complicated,” he said.
“You mean because Thelma Leggett has disappeared with that diary you’re after?”
“It’s not just that she’s gone,” Jake said. “Until this morning I’ve been assuming that I was chasing a blackmailer. I’m still sure that’s the case but I don’t think it’s the whole story.”
Her stomach knotted. “I don’t understand.”
“I’m starting to think that Zolanda and Leggett may have been involved in something more than garden-variety blackmail.”
“What makes you suspect that?”
But she knew the answer.
“Your intruder last night,” he said.
She almost stopped breathing. “How could there possibly be a connection?”
Her voice sounded thin. She was going to have to get better at playing the role of innocent tearoom waitress or she would find herself back at Rushbrook.
“I have no idea,” Jake said. “But there must be one. Otherwise we are looking at an amazing coincidence.”
“Coincidence?”
That sounded stronger, she decided, as if she was interested but not panicky.
“I’m told there’s very little in the way of serious crime in Burning Cove, so what are the odds that someone breaks into your cottage and then hangs around outside to watch your place on the very same night that Madam Zolanda gets murdered?”
“I have no idea,” she said. “What are the odds?”
“I’m not sure, either, but whatever they are, I don’t like them. I have a hunch that one way or another, everything that happened last night and early this morning is connected.”
She clenched her fingers around her handbag. “You sound very certain.”
“I told you, I used to be in the import-export business.”
“And you carried a gun because it was a dangerous business.”
“Yes,” Jake said.
He did not elaborate.
Adelaide sat quietly in the seat, trying to find logic in the chaos of the ominous currents that were swirling around her. She couldn’t stop a force of nature like Jake Truett. The best she could hope to do was gain some control over his investigation. She reminded herself that recovering a diary filled with secrets was his primary objective.
“Thelma Leggett is the key to this situation,” she said finally.
“One of the keys, yes.”
“The police are looking for her, but as you pointed out, if she left town, there’s not much they can do about finding her.”
“No,” Jake agreed. “And if Dr. Skipton rules Zolanda’s death a suicide, Detective Brandon will have no reason to waste his time searching for a missing assistant.”
Adelaide gathered her nerve. “Doesn’t mean we can’t look for her.”
Jake looked intrigued. “Sounds like you’ve got a plan to do that.”
“I told you, I’ve got a friend who just opened a detective agency here in town. Finding people is her specialty.”
“The lady private investigator who checked into my background?”
“Yes, Raina Kirk. Do you have a problem with the idea of hiring a female investigator?”
“No,” Jake said. “It’s just that I’ve never met one before. Are there any other detective agencies in town?”
“Not that I know of. Raina is our only option. She needs the business and I think we can trust her.”
“You think we can trust her?”
Adelaide gazed straight ahead through the windshield and contemplated the disaster that had enveloped her the last time she took the leap of faith that real trust always demanded. She had been very na?ve. But this was different, she thought.
“You can’t ever be absolutely positive that a person is trustworthy, can you?” she said. “People lie all the time. But, yes, I think that we can trust Raina. She is new in town and she is trying to establish a reputation here in Burning Cove.”
“I see,” Jake said.
She turned her head to look at him. He was watching her with a very intent expression. A shiver of dark awareness chilled the back of her neck.
“You’re wondering if you can trust me, aren’t you?” she asked.
He gave her a cold smile. “And you’re asking the same questions about me.”
“We don’t know much about each other.”
“No,” he agreed. “But as you pointed out, we’re stuck with each other. We are each other’s alibi for last night.”
“Assuming we might actually need alibis,” she said.
“When you’re dealing with murder, it’s always a good idea to have an alibi, especially if you’re the one who discovered the body. In my experience, cops are usually suspicious of the person who reports the death.”
“You’re convinced Zolanda was murdered?”
“Until proven otherwise, yes.” Jake glanced at the gold watch on his left wrist. “We can’t afford to lose any time. When can I meet Raina Kirk?”
“I’m sure there won’t be any problem getting an appointment for today.”
“Good.” Jake took his arm off the back of the seat and turned around to start the car. “How do you feel about taking in a boarder?”
She went very still. “You?”
He put the speedster in gear. “Look on the bright side—I may be out of work but I can afford the rent.”
“You’re convinced that we’re involved in something that might be very dangerous, aren’t you?”
“A blackmailer is dead and her assistant is probably in possession of a lot of secrets, including a certain diary,” Jake said. “Yes, I think we’re involved in something dangerous.”
“As of this morning, my reputation is in tatters and, as it happens, I have an extra bedroom,” she said. “I wouldn’t mind taking in a boarder. To be honest, I could use the extra money to help make ends meet.”
Chapter 20
Raina drew on all of the cool composure she had cultivated in her career as a professional secretary at a prestigious New York law firm. She needed the business, but Luther Pell would be a dangerous client.
“Exactly what is it you want me to do, Mr. Pell?” she asked.
“Someone is stealing some of my most expensive liquor,” Luther said. “The losses are never serious enough to warrant calling in the police. A few bottles of good whiskey one week, some French champagne the next. At first my manager and I attributed the missing items to inventory errors.”
“I see.” She opened her notebook and picked up a sharpened pencil. “I’m sure you go through a lot of liquor at your nightclub.”
Luther raised his brows. “Do you disapprove of my business, Miss Kirk?”
“I have no problems with it unless you are engaged in some illegal activities on the side. I’m new here in town. I can’t afford to take any case that might get me into trouble with the local police.”
“No need to worry about that. If the cops give you any problems, I’ll have a word with the chief.” Luther smiled. “My relationship with the Burning Cove Police Department is excellent.”
“Because you pay the cops very well to look the other way?”
Luther assumed a pained expression. “This isn’t L.A., Miss Kirk, and I don’t own a powerful movie studio. I don’t buy and sell the local police. I’m just a businessman, one who, at the moment, happens to have a small but rather annoying inventory problem.”
Luther Pell was certainly a businessman, but her intuition warned her that that was only one of many guises that he adopted to confront the world. There was a lot more going on beneath the surface of the man, and she was sure that some of it was profoundly complicated.