Page 94 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Irene looked at him. “Miss Spencer was very good to me. I would have done just about anything for her. If only I had arrived a few hours earlier.”

“If you had, you, too, would probably be dead,” Luther said.

Irene took a deep breath. “Yes, that thought has occurred to me every minute of every waking hour since I found Helen’s body.”

Oliver reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You were alone that night. You’re not alone now.”

The phone rang a short time later just as Luther was preparing to leave the villa.

“Hold on,” Oliver said. “That may be Brandon with some news about Springer.”

He grabbed his cane and disappeared into the villa. Irene was left alone on the patio with Luther.

“I know you’re involved in this mess because you’re Oliver’s friend,” she said earnestly, “not because of me. But I want you to know how much I appreciate your help. I would apologize for bringing so much trouble to Burning Cove but that won’t do any good. I can only tell you that I had no idea things would turn out to be so dangerous.”

Luther drank the last of his coffee and set the cup in the saucer. “It’strue you have livened things up here in our little town. But there’s no need for apologies. If anything, I owe you my thanks.”

Bewildered, she could only stare at him. “What on earth for?”

He gave her an unreadable smile. “Oliver and I have a tendency to sink into boredom occasionally.”

“I find that difficult to believe. Each of you is responsible for a large business enterprise. I’m sure your various financial interests keep you occupied.”

“It’s true, our businesses do occupy much of our time. But a man can only review so many budgets before it all becomes predictable and routine.”

“Murder is hardly an ideal cure for boredom.”

Luther chuckled. “When you live in a small town like Burning Cove, you can’t be too choosey when it comes to diversions.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“You’ve got me there. But it looks to me like you’re doing my friend Oliver a world of good, so I’m willing to cut you some slack when it comes to murder.”

“How can you say that? I nearly got him killed at that warehouse the other night.”

“Yes, well, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you didn’t actually succeed. I am acquainted with a lot of people but Oliver is one of the few that I can call friend, one of the very few I trust.”

“Look, Mr. Pell—”

“Luther.”

“Luther, this is not a laughing matter.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But, you see, the news of exactly what happened at that warehouse is all over town.”

“Then you know Oliver could have died in the fire or been shot by one of those two men on motorcycles.”

“What I know,” Luther said, “is that you were on your way out ofthat burning warehouse when Oliver lost his balance and fell. You turned back to help him.”

“Well, of course I did. It was my fault he was in harm’s way in the first place. Besides, one doesn’t leave one’s partner behind.”

“No,” Luther said. “One doesn’t. But not everyone understands that. You went back to help my friend. That’s all that matters to me.”

She studied him for a long moment. “You really have been concerned about him, haven’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Luther said, “he takes that souped-up Cord of his out onto an empty stretch of highway and he drives it very, very fast. I think he uses it as an antidote for the pain.”

“The pain of his old injury?”