Page 25 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“You don’t trust anyone, do you?”

She smiled a thin smile. “Everyone has secrets.”

“Including you.”

It was a statement, not a question. It sent another little chill through her.

“When can I talk to Luther Pell?” she said.

“He invited us to have dinner with him this evening at his club.”

“Us?”

“Like you, I have a few questions for him myself. I realize you don’t believe me, Miss Glasson, but I can promise that I want the truth as badly as you do, if not more so. I am willing to go to great lengths to protect the privacy of my guests, but I won’t protect a killer.”

“Even if it means a full-blown scandal?”

To her surprise, Oliver smiled.

“My guests claim they want privacy,” he said. “But the truth is, their careers depend on making headlines in papers likeWhispers. Properly managed, there is nothing like an interesting scandal to boost the career of an aspiring actor or actress. Does wonders for my hotel business, too.”

“We’re talking about a scandal involving the murder of a woman who is said to have had an affair with a fast-rising star.”

“Which makes it a very interesting scandal.”

“That you intend to see is properly managed.”

“I had to reinvent myself after a disastrous conclusion to my previous career, Miss Glasson. Reinvention is an expensive process. I survived it once. I don’t intend to start over a third time if I can avoid it. So, yes, I’m going to try to manage the scandal.”

“Do you really think I’ll let you dictate the story?” she asked.

“Without my help, you won’t get any story at all.”

“Is that so?”

“Without my assistance, this town might as well be a fortified castle, as far as you’re concerned,” Oliver said. “They will lock the gates, pull up the drawbridge, and fill the moat with alligators.”

“And in exchange for my accepting your help, you will try to control what I write.”

“I may make a few suggestions from time to time,” Oliver admitted.

“And if you don’t like what I write, you’ll withdraw your assistance.”

“I thought I made it clear, we share the same goal. I want the killer found.”

“Why?”

“Because the Burning Cove Hotel belongs to me. I protect what is mine. No one gets away with committing murder on the premises.”

“No exceptions?” she asked.

His smile was as cold as his eyes. “One exception.”

And suddenly she knew.

“You,” she said.

“Me.”