by Amanda Quick
“For pity’s sake, Lyra, you have got this all wrong. Mr. Sundridge is not impotent—”
She broke off because she realized Lyra was looking past her.
“Don’t let me interrupt,” Nick said. “The conversation just keeps getting more interesting by the minute.”
Vivian pulled herself together. “Was that Mr. Pell on the phone?”
“Yes,” Nick said. Satisfaction heated his eyes. “He said the Broker called to inform him the buyer who is eager to acquire the journal has agreed to Pell’s price.”
“No negotiation?” Vivian asked.
“None.”
Lyra glanced from Nick to Vivian. “What are you two talking about?”
“I’ll explain in a minute,” Vivian said. She looked at Nick.
“The buyer must want that journal very badly,” she said.
“Evidently, but he’s not going to get it tonight,” Nick said. “Luther and I agree that we need to drag things out a bit to make sure the buyer is hungry enough to meet us on territory we control.”
Lyra was following the conversation very intently but she did not interrupt again.
“Is Mr. Pell coming here to help put this strategy together?” Vivian asked.
Nick shook his head. “No. If the buyer is watching, and we must assume that he is, another visit to the hotel by Pell might make him skittish.”
“What do we do now?” Vivian asked. “Sit around and wait?”
Nick smiled at Lyra. “I thought we might show your sister the nightlife scene here in Burning Cove. We’re going to the Paradise Club tonight.”
“Wonderful,” Lyra said. “Do you think there will be some movie stars in the crowd?”
“Possibly,” Nick said.
Vivian drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair while she mentally cataloged what remained of her very small wardrobe. “I did a little shopping when we arrived in Burning Cove but I just picked up the essentials. I certainly didn’t see any need to purchase an evening gown and all the accessories.”
“Don’t worry,” Lyra said. “I realized you must have lost most of your clothes in the fire so I brought several things from your closet with me. Just the items that are still in fashion, of course.”
Vivian stared at her, nonplussed. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Why do you think I arrived with so many suitcases?” Lyra said.
Nick smiled appreciatively. “Clearly the Brazier women are not only dangerous, they are very smart.”
Vivian shot him what she hoped was a stern look. “I think it’s time we told Lyra exactly why we’re holed up here at the Burning Cove.”
“Right,” Nick said. The amusement warming his eyes vanished as swiftly as it had come. “We should probably do that. One question first, though. Lyra, did you tell anyone that Vivian was staying here at the Burning Cove?”
Lyra’s brows rose. “Yes, as a matter of fact. One of her freelance photographer friends telephoned me to see if I knew where she was.”
“Toby Flint?” Vivian asked.
“Yes,” Lyra said. “He said it was important he get in touch with you right away. Something about teaming up with you to do a special photographic essay for Life. It sounded like a wonderful opportunity. Why? Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid so,” Vivian said. “A big problem.”
Lyra got a knowing expression. “I was sure there was more going on here than the obvious.”
“The obvious?” Vivian asked.
“The two of you running off to Burning Cove to see if you could cure Mr. Sundridge’s little impotence prob—” Lyra stopped herself mid-word. She cleared her throat. “Never mind. Explain.”
Chapter 34
I’ve been in some very exclusive nightclubs in San Francisco,” Lyra announced, “but none were as much fun as this one. The Paradise looks like a movie set. I can picture Claudette Colbert or Clark Gable or Greta Garbo walking down that red carpet to one of those star tables at the edge of the dance floor.”
Vivian picked up her cocktail glass and surveyed the glamorous room. “You’re right. The Paradise looks as if it was designed by a decorator who set out to create a Hollywood fantasy version of a nightclub.”
She and Lyra and Nick occupied a booth that had a clear view of the orchestra and the dance floor. It was almost eleven o’clock but the night was young as far as the crowd was concerned. The orchestra was playing a slow, sultry piece while women in shimmering beaded gowns floated on the arms of men dressed in elegant evening jackets. The dance floor was illuminated in an endless cascade of sparkling lights from the mirror ball overhead.
The only member of the group who wasn’t present to enjoy the show was Rex. He had been left at the villa. No killer would take the risk of trying to break in to set a trap with the dog on guard.
Vivian took a tiny sip of her sidecar. Thanks to Lyra’s foresightedness, she was wearing a sleek gown of garnet-red satin. She had purchased it shortly before leaving home. It had been left behind in San Francisco along with the other clothes she had not expected to wear in her new life.
Now, bathed in the romantic glow of candlelight, she decided it was perfect for an evening at the Paradise with Nick. The lustrous fabric had been cut on the bias so that it clung lightly to her body and flared out below the hips. The front was styled with a high, deceptively demure neckline. Fluttery sleeves revealed her arms. The back plunged to the waist. Black fishnet gloves veiled her hands.
Lyra looked even more at home in the club. Her natural flair for style lent her an aura of glamour that would have suited a star. Her bronze satin gown was cut to display her excellent figure to full advantage. Matching elbow-length gloves and a gossamer wrap finished the look.
“Stick around and you will probably see a few stars,” Nick said. “If they’re in town, they’ll show up here sooner or later.”
“Burning Cove is so much more exciting than San Francisco,” Lyra said. She picked up her pink lady. “We should have visited Burning Cove months ago, Viv. Look what we’ve been missing.”
“Under other circumstances I would probably enjoy it more,” Vivian said.
Lyra’s glow faded into genuine concern. “I still can’t believe someone wants you dead, and before you say anything, Nick, I agree with Vivian. Hamilton is a lying, cheating rat but I can’t imagine him sinking so low that he would actually hire someone to murder Viv. For one thing, I doubt that he would even know how to locate a paid assassin.”
“Good point,” Vivian said. “We’ve been wondering about that aspect of things. It’s not as if murder-for-hire businesses advertise in the phone book.”
“No,” Nick said. He picked up his glass and gently swirled the whiskey so that it caught the light of the candle flame. “The problem raises some interesting questions but not the most important one.”
“Which is?” Lyra said.
“Motive,” Nick said. “You and Vivian seem to be convinced that Merrick is innocent. I agree that if he is guilty he would be an anomaly.”
“Why?” Vivian asked.
“Judging by what my uncle has managed to decipher so far, all of the killer’s commissions in the past couple of years appear to have originated in the Los Angeles area. Before that he was murdering people in New York. There’s no indication any of his clients or his victims lived in San Francisco. The assassin evidently prefers to work on territory he knows well.”
“I am no longer a fan of Hamilton Merrick but I think I can give you one more reason why he wouldn’t take the risk of hiring someone to murder me,” Vivian said. “He simply isn’t that ambitious.”
Lyra had been about to take another sip of her pink lady. She paused. “You’re right, Viv. Hamilton was born to attend parties and sail his yacht. He has no real interest in business. He isn’t obsessed with making money because he knows he’s g
oing to inherit plenty of it.”
“If you’re both right,” Nick said, “if money is not the motive, then we are left with only one other likely possibility.”
Lyra’s eyes lost their sparkle. “You think the motive is somehow connected to Viv’s photography.”
“Yes,” Nick said. “I do. It’s felt that way right from the start.”
“I just can’t see any way there could be a connection,” Vivian said, “not now that the Dagger Killer is dead. He was the only one who had a reason to murder me.”
She stopped talking because a familiar figure was approaching the table.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Ripley Fleming said. He smiled at Vivian. “I thought I recognized you in the lobby of the Burning Cove Hotel this afternoon. We met briefly a few weeks ago. You may not remember me.”
He must have known that he was not the kind of man a woman would forget, Vivian thought, but the humility was charming. She smiled.
“Of course I remember you, Mr. Fleming,” she said.
“I’m afraid I did not catch your name at the time,” Ripley said.
“Vivian—” She stopped because Nick was giving her foot a less than subtle nudge under the table.
“I see you know my wife,” he said smoothly. “The name’s Sundridge, by the way. Mrs. Vivian Sundridge. I’m Nick Sundridge.”
He got to his feet and shook hands with an easy manner, as if he was accustomed to making the acquaintance of famous film stars. But Vivian got a shiver of awareness across the back of her neck. She glanced at him. In the flickering candlelight his expression was cool, controlled, polite. But she was certain he viewed Ripley with deep suspicion.
“A pleasure,” Ripley said, evidently unaware he was being assessed, analyzed, and cataloged as a potential threat.
“Mr. Fleming, allow me to introduce my sister, Lyra Brazier,” Vivian said.
Lyra was glowing with excitement. She extended one gloved hand.
“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Fleming,” she said. “I’m a fan. You were absolutely amazing in Shock.”
Ripley smiled. “Thank you, Miss Brazier. Please call me Ripley.”
Lyra was beyond glowing now. Vivian could have sworn she was sparkling.
“And you must call me Lyra,” Lyra said.
Ripley did not release her hand and Lyra showed no great urgency to retrieve it.
“Would you care to dance?” he said.
“Love to,” Lyra said.
She was out of the booth and on her feet in seconds. Ripley took her arm but he paused long enough to smile at Vivian.
“You did me a great favor, Mrs. Sundridge. I wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten and that I meant what I said at the time. I’m in your debt.”
“There is no debt, so please don’t worry about it,” Vivian said. “And you must call me Vivian.”
“Thank you, Vivian,” he said.
He swept Lyra down a carpeted aisle to the dance floor.
“Don’t say it,” Vivian said.
Nick did not take his eyes off Ripley and Lyra. “Don’t say what?”
“Don’t say something along the lines of what are the odds the famous actor whose reputation I protected when I declined to photograph him at the scene of the Carstairs murder would make it a point to stop at this table tonight.”
“That’s a rather long and convoluted sentence so I won’t say it. I’ll shorten it. What are the odds?”
“Probably not all that bad when you think about it,” Vivian said. “Burning Cove is an obvious destination for an actor of Fleming’s stature.”
“He’s staying at the same hotel.”
“So? He’s Hollywood royalty. The Burning Cove Hotel is where people like Fleming stay when they’re in town.”
“Any way you slice this it comes up looking a lot like a very striking coincidence.”
“There are such things as coincidence, you know.”
“Not when we’re in the process of trying to catch a killer—” Nick broke off because a waiter was approaching the booth.
“A message from Mr. Pell.” The waiter put a small envelope down on the table.
“Thank you,” Nick said. He opened the envelope. There was a card inside.
“Is something wrong?” Vivian asked.
“No,” Nick said. He slipped the envelope inside his jacket. “It looks like something has finally gone right for a change. Pell is upstairs in his private quarters. He just got a call from the Broker. The individual who wants to buy the journal has agreed to our arrangements. The transaction takes place tomorrow night.”
Vivian tensed. “I know you and Luther believe you have things under control but there is no such thing as a foolproof plan.”
Nick smiled. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like me. Always looking for all the possible ways things can go wrong.”
“Maybe your pessimistic view of the world has started to rub off on me.”
“There’s a fix for that.”
“What?”
“Why do you think they invented dancing?”
Nick got to his feet and reached out to take her hand.
When they walked onto the dance floor he took her into his arms.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “Dancing is an excellent remedy for dark thoughts.”
His warm palm slid down the bare skin of her back.
“I can think of something that works even better,” he said.
He said the words very softly in his midnight voice. A thrilling shiver of anticipation electrified Vivian’s senses.
Probably the wrong time but definitely the right man.
Chapter 35
I can hardly believe it,” Lyra said. “My first night in Burning Cove and I danced with a famous movie star at the hottest nightclub in town. And then I danced with lots of other men. This is the best night of my entire life. No wonder you left home, Viv. Partying in Burning Cove is so much more fun than going to all those boring society affairs back in San Francisco.”
Vivian smiled ruefully. “I think you’ve had a few too many pink ladies.”
It was shortly after two in the morning. She and Nick and Lyra were standing outside Lyra’s room at the Burning Cove Hotel.
“Who cares?” Lyra did a giddy pirouette in the hallway, her skirts swirling around her ankles. “I’ll tell you one thing. I am never, ever going back to San Francisco.”
When she stopped spinning she staggered a little. Vivian caught her by one arm to steady her. Nick took Lyra’s other arm.
“She’s going to feel a little different in the morning,” he said to Vivian.
“I think you’re right,” Vivian said.
Lyra gave that observation a few seconds of close consideration. Then she giggled.
“You may be right,” she said. “But you know what? I don’t care if I have a hangover. It will be worth it. I danced with Ripley Fleming. And then I danced some more. I danced the whole night.”
“Yes, you did,” Vivian said. “Now give me your room key.”
“Sure.” Lyra fumbled with the catch of her small crystal-beaded handbag. When she got it open she handed the key to Vivian.
Vivian opened the door. “Need any help getting ready for bed?”
“Nope.” Lyra sailed past her and flipped the light switch. She turned around with a laughing smile. “You two can run along now. I’ll be just fine.”
“Lock the door,” Nick said.
“You bet,” Lyra said.
She smiled and closed the door. There was a loud snick as the bolt slid home.
“Have fun, you two,” she called through the heavy wood paneling.
Nick took Vivian’s arm. They walked out into the softly lit gardens, following the path that led to their villa.
“You
’re worried, aren’t you?” Nick said.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen Lyra in such a carefree mood,” Vivian said. “It’s a little unnerving.”
“You’re used to being the wild sister,” Nick said. He sounded amused.
“Well, yes, I suppose so.”
“Looks like you now have some competition.”
“Evidently. Don’t misunderstand me—I’m very glad Lyra discovered the truth about Hamilton before the wedding and I’m relieved she gave him back his ring. But now I’m afraid that in this new mood she’ll do something rash.”
“Such as?”
“I don’t know,” Vivian said. “That’s the problem. There are so many ways an attractive, vivacious woman with a lot of money and a reckless, devil-may-care attitude can get into trouble in places like Burning Cove.”
“There you go, thinking dark and depressing thoughts again. I believe I mentioned I have a remedy for that.”
A fizzy little wave of anticipation shivered through her, heightening her awareness. It was as if some part of her was suddenly attuned to the invisible energy of the night, the lush gardens, and most of all to the man who stirred her senses as no other man ever had.
“Yes,” she said. “You did tell me that.”
Nick brought her gently to a halt in the shadow of a grape arbor and took her into his arms. When his mouth closed over hers, the effervescent tide of anticipation was transformed into a hot wave of desire. She melted against his hard, lean body.
“Vivian,” he said against her mouth, “I want you so damn bad.”
“I’m glad,” she managed in a throaty voice. “Because I want you, too.”
“Enough to do something reckless and maybe a little dangerous?”
“Such as?”
“Come to bed with me and we will find out together.”
Somewhere inside she thought she heard a voice whisper words of caution. It’s too soon. He’s still a stranger in so many ways.
But the voice was thin and faint; easily ignored. The alluring whispers demanding she seize the moment were far more compelling. They called to her, challenging her to take what might be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to discover the truth about the strength of her own passions.