“Then she’s on the road? Maybe holed up in an auto court someplace?”
“Maybe, but there may be a more likely possibility. My contact in L.A. says he talked to one of Leggett’s neighbors who told him that a few years ago Leggett’s mother died and left her some property on the coast. The neighbor said there was a cabin on the property. I’m trying to find out where it’s located.”
“Do you think that Thelma might be hiding out there?”
“It’s possible. When I worked as a secretary for a legal firm, I was frequently asked to locate individuals. In my experience, when people run, they tend to head for a place that feels familiar, a place that feels safe.”
Adelaide tightened her grip on the coffee cup. That was exactly what she had done, she thought. She had run to Burning Cove because it felt somewhat familiar, somewhat safe. When she was a little girl, her parents had taken her there every summer for a vacation. Her father and mother had often talked about retiring in Burning Cove.
Her mouth went dry. In retrospect, taking refuge in the seaside town might have been a huge mistake. If the people who were looking for her had used the same logic that Raina was using, they might have already found her. It would certainly explain why someone had spent a night lurking in the fog, watching her house.
“Adelaide?” Raina leaned forward a little. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
Adelaide forced herself to focus. “I was just thinking about what you said. You’ll let us know right away if you track down the location of the property that Thelma Leggett inherited, won’t you?”
“Of course. Meanwhile, do me a favor.”
“What’s that?”
“I know why you and Jake Truett are going to the Paradise Club tonight, but try to have a good time, anyway.”
Adelaide managed a shaky smile. “I’ll do my best.”
They finished their coffee and walked back to Raina’s convertible. They stored the shopping bags in the trunk, and Raina got behind the wheel.
Adelaide opened the passenger side door. She was about to make a comment on the very fine weather, when she felt a ghostly shiver of awareness on the back of her neck.
She paused and glanced back over her shoulder. The shopping plaza was still busy, still filled with shoppers and people enjoying the pleasures of the sidewalk cafés. But at the very edge of her vision she glimpsed a man in a fashionable dark blue linen jacket and tan trousers. She could not see his face because he was in the process of turning away from her. In addition, he was wearing a straw hat angled so that it concealed his profile.
She got only the briefest of glimpses before he disappeared around a corner, but that was enough to ice her blood.
She slipped into the passenger seat of the car and closed the door very firmly. She had not been hallucinating. The man in the blue linen jacket had carried himself and moved in exactly the same way that Conrad Massey did.
Chapter 26
“You’re sure the psychic didn’t jump,” Luther asked.
“I’m sure,” Jake said.
He selected his putter and positioned himself in front of the golf ball. He took a moment to absorb the feel of the green.
The great thing about a golf course was that two men could have a private conversation without worrying about being overheard. He and Luther were alone on the green. The caddies waited a respectful distance away.
It was an ideal day for a game of golf. The weather was perfect, sunny and warm, and the elegantly manicured course was in prime condition. The fairways were lush, the greens were smooth and fast and mostly true, but this one had an almost imperceptible slope to the right. His ball had landed a yard away from the hole.
He lined up the putt, compensating for the small slope and the fast green, and ushered the ball into the hole with a gentle tap. He straightened and saw Luther watching him with an amused expression.
“How the hell do you do that?” Luther said.
“What?”
“You make it look so damn easy.”
Luther walked to where his ball lay some two yards away from the hole. He overshot the cup by about four inches.
“The greens are a little fast today,” Jake observed.
“Thank you for that helpful observation.”
“I sense sarcasm.”
“Could be.”
Luther took aim again and sank the putt.
The caddies noted scores, collected balls and clubs, and replaced the flag. They all headed toward the next tee.
“I take it you didn’t find what you were looking for when you searched Zolanda’s house,” Luther said.
“No. I’m sure the assistant has the stash of blackmail material. Adelaide and I hired Raina Kirk to look for her.”
“Miss Kirk is a very interesting woman,” Luther said. “I hired her, too. I want her to look into a small security problem for me.”
“Adelaide said Miss Kirk is new in town. How did you meet her?”
Luther smiled. “Ran into her at the library a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah? What was she reading?”
“Old copies of the Herald,” Luther said. “She explained that reading out-of-date newspapers was a good way to get to know a town.”
“Huh. A private detective who reads and a nightclub owner who also reads. Sounds like a match made in heaven.”
“Or somewhere,” Luther said.
“Adelaide Brockton is an interesting woman, too.”
“I’m getting that impression. Any idea how or why she ended up here in Burning Cove?”
“Judging by the fact that Miss Brockton keeps a gun under her bed and that someone was watching her house the night Zolanda jumped off that roof, I’d say she’s running from someone.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time a woman tried to escape a mentally unbalanced man who became obsessed with her.”
“Obsession is a dangerous thing,” Jake said.
Luther shot him a quick, searching look. “It’s over. They’re both dead, Jake. It ended that night on the Mermaid when Garrick tried to kill you.”
Jake thought about the violent evening on the gambling ship. He often relived the scene in his dreams. Garrick had come at him from behind with a knife, hoping for a quick, quiet kill, one that concluded with a body dumped over the side.
But Garrick had been the one who went overboard and drowned in the waters off Santa Monica. His body had washed ashore a few days later. If the authorities noticed the small wound in his throat, they had not mentioned it to the press. It was, after all, not the first time a dead gambler had turned up on the beach.
It had been a bad night, Jake reflected, but at the time he believed that it closed a dark chapter in the story of his life. Then Elizabeth’s diary had gone missing.
“It’s not over until I find that diary,” he said.
“I understand,” Luther said. “By the way, you might be interested to know that I sold the Mermaid.”
“Getting out of the offshore gambling business?”
“That boat was starting to cost more than it made in profits. Besides, times are changing.”
“You and I have undergone a few changes, too.”
“Yes,” Luther said. “But I’m settled here in Burning Cove. I like this town. It suits me. What are you going to do now that you’ve sold your business?”
“You’re starting to sound like Adelaide. She thinks I need a real job.”
“She may be right,” Luther said. “We both know you’ve been drifting ever since Elizabeth died. You sold the business. You got rid of the big house in L.A. Damn it, you’re living in a hotel in Pasadena. What kind of a life is that?”
“The Huntington is a very nice hotel.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I’ve got a private bungalow. There’s a pool. Room service. What more can a man ask for?”
“You can’t live in a hotel forever.”
“Why not? You seem to be doing just fine living on top of a nightclub.”
“That’s different. I own the place. You’re living as if you were still in the import-export business, always prepared to pack a bag and travel halfway around the world at a moment’s notice. Those days are over, Jake.”