Page 95 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“That is the least of it,” Luther said. “He lost something far more valuable than a lucrative career when he nearly died onstage. But that is for him to tell you.”

“I think you understand him very well,” Irene said. “I assume that is because you have also experienced real pain. You said that Oliver’s antidote is to drive his car too fast. Tell me, what remedy do you use?”

The edge of Luther’s mouth twitched a little in amusement. “You are very perceptive. I shall have to remember that in future.”

“You paint,” Irene said, very sure of her conclusion. “That is how you deal with the pain, isn’t it?”

Luther narrowed his eyes. He no longer looked amused. “As I said, you are very perceptive.”

Oliver emerged from the living room before Irene could say anything else.

“That was Brandon, all right,” Oliver said. “Springer was discharged from the hospital this morning. He was booked into the Burning Cove jail approximately twenty minutes later. Not long afterward a hotshot lawyer from L.A. arrived and bailed Springer out of jail.”

“Who sent the lawyer?” Luther asked. “I doubt if a guy like Springer has that kind of money.”

“Brandon assumes that Hollywood Mack or the studio fixer, Ernie Ogden, is responsible for the lawyer,” Oliver said.

“So a known arsonist is running around free in Burning Cove?” Irene asked. “That’s outrageous.”

Oliver looked at her. “Brandon said the only good news is that Springer was last seen buying a train ticket to L.A.”

Chapter 43

Graham Enright clamped his hand around the telephone. “What the hell do you mean, you were playing tennis when I called earlier? I didn’t send you out to California to take a vacation. You’re supposed to be working.”

“Calm down,” Julian said, his voice rendered distant and a bit scratchy by the long-distance connection. “I am working. I’ve got a plan, and Nick Tremayne is a critical element. Everything is under control.”

“How much longer do you intend to spend finishing this assignment?”

“Things have gotten a little complicated.”

Graham drummed his fingers on his desk. “How complicated?”

“I searched the apartment in L.A. very thoroughly. There was no sign of the notebook. Interestingly, someone got to her place before me—the studio people, I think. But I doubt that they found the notebook. Even if they had, the goons wouldn’t have recognized its real value. I’m sure she brought it here to Burning Cove. I’m told she was staying at a local inn but now she’s a guest at Ward’s private villa.”

“Who is Ward?”

“Ex-magician. Not a very good one, apparently. Almost got himself killed in his last performance.”

“Are you talking about Oliver Ward?”

“Right. Ever see his act?”

“No, but I remember the headlines when he nearly got killed onstage. What does he have to do with this situation?”

“He owns the Burning Cove Hotel. Anna Harris—she’s calling herself Irene Glasson now—moved in with him very soon after she arrived in Burning Cove. My guess is that she’s hoping he’ll be able to help her find a buyer for the notebook. Ward is friends with the owner of a local nightclub, Luther Pell. Pell’s got mob connections.”

“You think Ward and Harris or Glasson or whatever she’s calling herself are working together now?”

“Glasson may believe that they’re partners, but it’s far more likely that he’s running a con on her. That’s the only thing that makes sense. There’s no other reason why he’d be sleeping with a gossip columnist from a cheap Hollywood newspaper. Got to hang up now. I have to talk to the hotel concierge about booking a restaurant this evening.”

“Damn it, what about the project? I thought I made it clear, the reputation of Enright and Enright is on the line. Our business is founded on the twin pillars of absolute discretion and successful results. We are poised to take a huge step into the global marketplace. A failure of this magnitude will do serious damage to the firm.”

“I’ll have this business wrapped up in just a few more days. Got to go. I’ll call as soon as I have the notebook.”

The line went dead.

Irritated, Graham dropped the receiver into the cradle and got to his feet. He went to stand at the window of his office and contemplated the busy Manhattan streets far below.