Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(15)

“Ah,” Matthias said. “Kids change everything.”

“So I’m told.”

Matthias stopped beside his maroon Packard convertible. He and Luther stood, not speaking, for a long moment.

“Think the manager was in on it?” Luther asked after a while.

“No,” Matthias said. “He was telling the truth.”

Luther nodded, not questioning the verdict. He paused a beat. “What about Amalie Vaughn?”

“She’s not involved, either.”

“You’re sure?”

Matthias rested one hand on the Packard’s windshield frame. “Well, I haven’t asked her specifically if she is involved in the murder and the theft of a top secret device, if that’s what you mean. That would be somewhat awkward. But, yes, I’m sure she knows nothing about either the murder or the stolen machine. Why are you focusing on Amalie Vaughn?”

“I told you that she was a trapeze artist who was nearly murdered about six months back.”

“Right,” Matthias said. “She was saved because the killer fell from the trapeze platform. Why are you concerned?”

“Raina made a couple of phone calls this morning,” Luther said quietly. “There may be more to the Abbotsville story than what was in the press.”

Matthias did not move. “That’s not exactly the biggest surprise in the world. There is always more to a newspaper story, especially one that involves a trapeze artist and a killer.”

“True, but in this case the additional details might have some bearing on our situation.”

“Go on,” Matthias said.

“Evidently not long after the events in Abbotsville there were rumors that Amalie Vaughn wasn’t the intended victim. She may have been the killer.”

Matthias felt everything inside him start to chill. “What are you talking about?”

“A cop in Abbotsville told Raina that some people are convinced that Vaughn lured her lover up to the trapeze platform and pushed him to his death. Afterward she claimed that he had tried to kill her.”

Matthias was stone cold now. “Any proof?”

“None, which is why there was no arrest.”

“Motive?”

“The usual in such cases. Jealous rage. Hell hath no fury, et cetera, et cetera. I’m not saying Miss Vaughn killed her lover, but I find it interesting that, six months later, she is now linked to another murder. You’re the one who is always claiming that there is no such thing as coincidence.”

“There is such a thing as being in the wrong place at the wrong time. And there is also such a thing as being a target of opportunity.”

Luther contemplated that for a long moment.

“How do you explain the fact that, out of all the options available in this town, Pickwell chose to check in to the Hidden Beach Inn, a B and B that had only recently opened its doors?”

“I doubt that Pickwell was the one who selected the Hidden Beach,” Matthias said, working through the logic. “Smith most likely chose it for him. What better way to isolate Pickwell than to install him in an almost empty hotel? It would have been easy to keep an eye on him from the moment he checked in until he went to the Palace.”

“Makes sense,” Luther admitted. “All of the legends about Smith emphasize that he likes to control the territory as much as possible. We also know that he always stays deep in the shadows. It’s possible that he manipulated Pickwell into booking a room at the Hidden Beach, but we can’t rule out other explanations, such as the possibility that Miss Vaughn is somehow involved in this thing.”

“No,” Matthias said.

“Why do I have the feeling that you don’t want to consider Miss Vaughn a suspect?”

“You must be psychic.”

Luther was silent for a moment.

“I thought I had the trap all set,” he said after a while. “Lure Pickwell to Burning Cove with the promise of the demonstration at the Palace. Arrange for the sale of the Ares to take place in the parking lot of the Paradise Club. Grab Smith when he arrived to take the machine. But he somehow got out ahead of us. How the hell did he do it?”

“It was a deal arranged by a broker who handles underworld business transactions,” Matthias said. “If you’re right about Smith, he’s been in the weapons trade for years. That means he has mob connections, too.”





Chapter 8


Willa Platt was perched on a stool in a diner near the Redondo Beach pier, trying to make a cup of bad coffee last long enough for her to finish perusing the Help Wanted listings in the newspaper, when she got distracted by the story of the robot that had murdered its inventor.

She started reading out of curiosity but when she got to the last two paragraphs she could hardly believe her eyes.

    . . . While in town, Dr. Pickwell was staying at the Hidden Beach Inn on Ocean View Lane. The establishment, now owned by Miss Amalie Vaughn, is well-known to residents of Burning Cove as the scene of a recent, mysterious tragedy.

Not long ago, Madam Zolanda, the celebrity known as the Psychic to the Stars, leaped to her death from the roof of the mansion. This event occurred hours after the psychic had predicted death onstage at the very same theater, the Palace, where Pickwell was giving the demonstration when he was murdered by the robot . . .