Page 106 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Oliver surprised her with a grin. “Thanks for putting things into perspective. Did you get any revenge?”

“Of the petty sort. The company was in a fierce bidding war with a competitor. The deal involved obtaining the license on a patented device used in the oil business. The lying, cheating bastard was in charge of negotiating the licensing agreement. But I was the one who had done all of the background research. I assembled all the necessary facts and figures. I was about to put everything together in a neat, tidy report for the lying, cheating bastard when the fiancée stopped by the office to inform me of the reality of my situation.”

“Can I assume that something dire happened to the neat, tidy report?”

“Nothing at all happened to it because it never came into existence. That was the beauty of my revenge, you see. On my way out the door I dropped the file with all the raw data on the lying, cheating bastard’s desk. I knew he wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails out of my notes. They were all in shorthand—my own private version.”

Oliver smiled. “They might as well have been written in a secret code.”

“As for the figures, well, he was the first to admit that he never did have a head for numbers.”

“I’m guessing the deal fell through?”

“The rival company obtained the license to the device.”

“Was the lying, cheating bastard fired?” Oliver asked.

“Of course not. His fiancée was the daughter of the owner of the company, and she was determined to marry the lying, cheating bastard. The fiancée was daddy’s little girl, so the lying, cheating bastard got promoted to vice president.”

“Naturally.”

“I’ve heard that revenge rarely works out well. Last I heard the bastard and his wife were living happily ever after somewhere in Connecticut. A real Hollywood ending.”

“I doubt it.”

“So do I,” Irene said. “Truth be told, I even feel sorry for her. After all, she married a lying, cheating bastard.”

“People don’t change. They are what they are.”

“That’s my theory, too,” Irene said.

Chapter 49

The dance floor of the Paradise Club was crowded with men in expensively cut dinner jackets and women in delicate gowns. The members of the orchestra, sharply dressed in white coats and black bow ties, were playing a popular number.

The booth where Irene sat with Oliver was one of many similarly intimate seating arrangements scattered around the room. There was a martini in front of Oliver and a pink lady in front of Irene but the glasses were still full. They had not come here to enjoy themselves, Irene thought. They were here so that Oliver could get a closer look at Julian Enright.

She was very conscious of the shadows that cloaked the club. The low, floor-level lighting and the candles on the tables were designed to enhance the intimate atmosphere.

The high backs and the semicircular design of the upholstered booths ensured privacy for the couples that occupied them, but they also made it impossible to see most of the other club patrons once they were seated.

Irene leaned forward and lowered her voice. “How will we know if Enright and Tremayne show up?”

“Don’t worry, Nick Tremayne is a rising movie star,” Oliver said. “Stars don’t walk into a nightclub, they make entrances.”

“While trying to give the impression that they don’t want to be noticed,” Irene concluded. “But maybe he’ll decide to come alone.”

“Stars don’t go out to fashionable nightclubs alone, either.”

“I agree that’s generally how it works in Hollywood but Enright might not want the attention.”

“If he was concerned about being noticed, he wouldn’t have become Tremayne’s pal.”

Irene considered that briefly. “I can’t argue with that logic. But it sure seems strange that a killer would want so much attention.”

“Who says professional killers can’t be just as vain as movie stars? Besides, if Enright is planning to use Tremayne as cover, he has no choice but to get close to him.”

Luther Pell materialized out of the shadows. He smiled at Irene, a gleam of masculine appreciation in his eyes.