He was in his late thirties, maybe three or four years older than her, but his eyes were those of a man who had seen too much darkness. Someone had mentioned that he had served in the Great War. She did not doubt it. Violence, she reflected, always left its mark.
Tall and lean, he wore his fashionable drape-cut linen jacket and immaculately creased trousers with an air of casual sophistication. There was some interesting gray in his jet-black hair, which he wore parted on the side, lightly oiled and brushed straight back in the style made fashionable by stars such as Cary Grant.
Her plan had been to start her agency by attracting a female clientele on the assumption that women would feel more comfortable confiding in another woman than in a male investigator. She had been floored when the owner of the Paradise Club walked through her door a short time ago. She didn’t count the phone calls to L.A. that she had made to confirm the identity of Jake Truett. Those calls were favors for a friend.
“Forgive me, Miss Kirk, but I’m getting the impression that you are not interested in taking my case,” Luther said.
“I need the business,” she said. “But I’ll admit you aren’t exactly the kind of client I was expecting to attract.”
“Should I be insulted?” Luther asked a little too gently.
Alarmed, she sat forward very quickly. The last thing she needed was to make an enemy of Luther Pell. He and his very good friend Oliver Ward, the owner of the Burning Cove Hotel, exerted a great deal of influence in town. Individually, either one of them could destroy her business before she even got it going.
“I am well aware that you are a powerful figure in Burning Cove,” she said. “But rumor has it that you are connected to certain individuals who operate casinos in Nevada. In addition, I understand you have an interest in at least one of the gambling boats anchored off of Santa Monica.”
Luther nodded solemnly, taking the implied criticism in stride. “I’m impressed. You’re well-informed for a newcomer.”
“My business depends on knowing who controls what in Burning Cove.”
“If it helps, I recently sold my interest in the gambling boat.”
“Any particular reason?”
Luther moved a hand in a vague gesture of dismissal. “The gaming business is changing. Reno is where the action is these days, and now that the dam has been completed, Las Vegas may become even more profitable. The offshore casinos won’t be able to compete.”
“Why not?”
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a large boat in good repair when it is sitting in salt water day in and day out?”
Raina blinked, a little taken aback. “I never thought about the upkeep problems.”
“Trust me when I tell you that rust and salt corrosion are relentless forces of nature.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“I assure you I am content with my nightclub here in Burning Cove,” Luther continued. “I have discovered that there is no need to dabble in illegal sidelines, not as long as I’m selling a reliable fantasy.”
She realized that, although she was still wary of Luther Pell, she was also fascinated by him.
“What, exactly, is the fantasy that you sell?” she asked.
Luther got to his feet and walked to the window of the office. He contemplated the shady plaza.
“When people walk into the Paradise Club, they do not merely get a glimpse of a glamorous world. For the time that they are in my club, they are inhabitants of that world.”
“In other words, they participate in the fantasy?”
“Exactly. That’s the secret of any form of successful entertainment. The audience must be completely involved. At the Paradise Club the patrons know that there is a very good chance that a Hollywood celebrity or a powerful studio executive is sitting in the adjacent booth. A lady can always hope that a famous movie star will ask her to dance. Gentlemen know that they are rubbing shoulders with some very important people, including the occasional mobster.”
She suppressed a shudder. “I understand that a woman might be thrilled to dance with a leading man, but why would anyone want to rub shoulders with a mobster?”
Luther turned around to face her. He looked amused. “Organized crime is the dark side of the legitimate business world, Miss Kirk. The same powerful forces are at work. And power, regardless of the source, is always fascinating.”
“Only to those who have not been burned by it,” she said before she could stop herself. “Sensible people are cautious when dealing with powerful individuals.”
“I take it you have been burned by someone who wielded a lot of power?”
“We are not here to discuss my personal life, Mr. Pell.”
He raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “The point I am trying to make is that I do know what I am selling at the Paradise Club.”
“A fantasy.”
“A fantasy with just enough reality infused into it to make it seem very, very real.”
“That is very insightful of you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am quite sure that you always know exactly what you’re doing, Mr. Pell.” She tapped the pencil on the notepad. “I do have a question for you.”
“You want to know why I haven’t taken this problem to my own security team.”
“Yes. Can I assume that means you suspect one of your security people might be involved in the pilfering?”
“It’s not exactly pilfering, Miss Kirk. We’re talking about small but steady losses that, if they continue, will add up to a considerable amount of money over time. And, yes, there is a possibility that someone on my security force is behind the theft. It would explain how someone is managing to sneak the liquor out of the locked storage room without being detected.” Luther glanced at his watch. “I have another appointment. I’d like to get this matter settled. Will you take my case or not?”
She hesitated only a couple of seconds. A successful conclusion to a case that had been brought to her by one of the most powerful men in Burning Cove would do wonders to establish her agency.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll take the case.”
“Excellent.” Luther smiled a very satisfied smile. “You’ll want a retainer.”
“Of course.” In spite of her uncertainties about Luther Pell, she got an odd little rush of excitement. She had landed her very first case. She was now a real private investigator. “I’ll want to take a look around your club. I’ll need to assess your current security arrangements so that I can analyze possible weak points.”
“Whenever it’s convenient for you,” he agreed. “Just say the word.”
She pretended to study her calendar. The only appointment on it was the one she had made a few minutes ago with Adelaide.
“I’m free tomorrow morning,” she said, trying to make it sound as if she could just barely squeeze him into her busy schedule.
“I’ll tell my men to expect you,” Luther said. “Thank you, Miss Kirk. I’ll look forward to working with you.”
He wrote out a check and left with the air of a man who had accomplished his objective and now had other important things to do.
She sat quietly for a time, thinking about Luther Pell. She was pleased to have the business, but her intuition told her that something did not feel right. After a moment or two she realized what was bothering her.
Luther Pell had not tried to probe deeply into her previous investigative experience. He had accepted her carefully prepared cover story without so much as a single question. That should have been reassuring but for some reason it was not.
She had dealt with dangerous men in the past. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that such men did not do business with people whose backgrounds they had not thoroughly researched. She cast her mind back, recalling every aspect of her departure from New York. She had planned her exit carefully and paid attention to every detail. She was almost certain that there was nothing for Luther to discover that might make him question her story.
Almost certain.
Chapter 21