Page 30 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“Take your time. I’ll wait out here with Elena.”

“Thank you,” she said.

He closed the door very quietly.

She glanced around the office. It was a large space decorated with warm gold walls and dark wood trim. The high, arched windows looked out over a private patio and the ocean beyond. The elegantly inlaid desk glowed from extensive polishing. The chairs and sofa were padded in rich, saddle brown leather. A tall vase of fresh flowers stood in the corner.

There were two paintings on the wall. Both were a contrast to the serene surroundings. They were coastal scenes, but they were not pleasantly languid pictures of sunny beaches and cloudless skies. Instead, they depicted wild, violent storms. Waves crashed and dark clouds swirled. A strange, eerie, ominous light infused each picture.

There was a signature in the lower right-hand corner of each picture. She took a closer look.Pell.

With the glaring exception of the two paintings, Oliver’s office looked exactly like one would expect the office of the proprietor of a fine hotel to appear. Oliver’s office was a Hollywood stage set of an office.

He said he had been forced to reinvent himself two years earlier but she wondered if he had created an illusion for himself, one that he thought would appear convincing to others. That was exactly what she had done. It seemed that they had both constructed new lives for themselves but neither of them felt truly at home in that new life—not yet, at any rate. Maybe never.

She knew why some part of her was always prepared to pack herbags, grab the notebook, Helen’s gun, and some money, and run. The message that Helen Spencer had written in blood haunted her. She could not escape the fear that someone might be hunting her.

She wondered why Oliver was having trouble settling into his new life. It was difficult to imagine that he spent any time looking over his shoulder. He seemed in command of both himself and his world in Burning Cove. But everyone had secrets.

Perhaps we have a few things in common, Mr. Ward.

She went to the desk, took the business card out of her handbag, picked up the receiver, and dialed the number of the inn. Mrs. Fordyce answered on the first ring.

“There you are, dear. I’m so glad you got my message.”

“I was told that you were looking for me. Is something wrong?”

“I had a very odd call from a Velma Lancaster. She said she was your editor and that you were to telephone her immediately. She said it was an emergency.”

“Is that all? Relax. As far as Velma is concerned, everything is an emergency.”

“She made it sound very urgent so I thought I’d better let you know immediately.”

“Thank you. I’ll call her now.”

“Good. Well, that’s that. By the way, the clothes that got soaked when you jumped into the spa pool were returned by someone from the Burning Cove Hotel staff a short time ago. Everything looks like it has been nicely laundered and pressed.”

“That’s a relief. I just hope nothing shrank in the wash. The trousers were new.”

“I’m sure they’re fine. Everything at the Burning Cove Hotel is first-class. And I must say the dress is lovely.”

“What dress?”

“An adorable cocktail frock. Wait until you see it.”

“There must be some mistake.”

“No. I asked George, the man who delivered the clothes, if there was some mistake but he assured me there wasn’t. Said it was a gift from the hotel management. I suppose it’s a sort of apology.”

“An apology? For what?”

“For nearly getting murdered on the hotel grounds, of course. I expect that the hotel management wanted to compensate you.”

“Or bribe me in an attempt to persuade me to go easy on the follow-up stories.”

“Oh, no, dear.” Mrs. Fordyce was clearly shocked. “I can’t imagine that Oliver Ward would resort to bribery.”

“I’m not so sure. Is it an expensive-looking dress?”