Page 38 of The Other Lady Vanishes

“Should I be insulted?” Luther asked a little too gently.

Alarmed, she sat forward very quickly. The last thing she needed was to make an enemy of Luther Pell. He and his very good friend Oliver Ward, the owner of the Burning Cove Hotel, exerted a great deal of influence in town. Individually, either one of them could destroy her business before she even got it going.

“I am well aware that you are a powerful figure in Burning Cove,” she said. “But rumor has it that you are connected to certain individuals who operate casinos in Nevada. In addition, I understand you have an interest in at least one of the gambling boats anchored off of Santa Monica.”

Luther nodded solemnly, taking the implied criticism in stride. “I’m impressed. You’re well-informed for a newcomer.”

“My business depends on knowing who controls what in Burning Cove.”

“If it helps, I recently sold my interest in the gambling boat.”

“Any particular reason?”

Luther moved a hand in a vague gesture of dismissal. “The gaming business is changing. Reno is where the action is these days, and now that the dam has been completed, Las Vegas may become even more profitable. The offshore casinos won’t be able to compete.”

“Why not?”

“Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a large boat in good repair when it is sitting in salt water day in and day out?”

Raina blinked, a little taken aback. “I never thought about the upkeep problems.”

“Trust me when I tell you that rust and salt corrosion are relentless forces of nature.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“I assure you I am content with my nightclub here in Burning Cove,” Luther continued. “I have discovered that there is no need to dabble in illegal sidelines, not as long as I’m selling a reliable fantasy.”

She realized that, although she was still wary of Luther Pell, she was also fascinated by him.

“What, exactly, is the fantasy that you sell?” she asked.

Luther got to his feet and walked to the window of the office. He contemplated the shady plaza.

“When people walk into the Paradise Club, they do not merely get a glimpse of a glamorous world. For the time that they are in my club, they are inhabitants of that world.”

“In other words, they participate in the fantasy?”

“Exactly. That’s the secret of any form of successful entertainment. The audience must be completely involved. At the Paradise Club the patrons know that there is a very good chance that a Hollywood celebrity or a powerful studio executive is sitting in the adjacent booth. A lady can always hope that a famous movie star will ask her to dance. Gentlemen know that they are rubbing shoulders with some very important people, including the occasional mobster.”

She suppressed a shudder. “I understand that a woman might be thrilled to dance with a leading man, but why would anyone want to rub shoulders with a mobster?”

Luther turned around to face her. He looked amused. “Organized crime is the dark side of the legitimate business world, Miss Kirk. The same powerful forces are at work. And power, regardless of the source, is always fascinating.”

“Only to those who have not been burned by it,” she said before she could stop herself. “Sensible people are cautious when dealing with powerful individuals.”

“I take it you have been burned by someone who wielded a lot of power?”

“We are not here to discuss my personal life, Mr. Pell.”

He raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “The point I am trying to make is that I do know what I am selling at the Paradise Club.”

“A fantasy.”

“A fantasy with just enough reality infused into it to make it seem very, very real.”

“That is very insightful of you.”

“You sound surprised.”