Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(20)

“Not everyone knows how to tie off a secure knot, let alone climb down a rope,” Amalie said.

She was looking increasingly uneasy, he decided. Well, she had every right to be anxious.

“A professional cat burglar would be able to use a rope for scaling a wall or making a quick exit,” he said. “As soon as the sun comes up I’ll take a look around outside and see if I can find anything that might give us a lead. What did the police say?”

“They asked me for a list of items that the burglar might have stolen, but beyond that, they weren’t much help.”

“Let’s take a look at Pickwell’s room.”

“All right, but I’m almost positive that he never got that far,” Amalie said. “Thanks to Hazel’s scream, I interrupted him before he made it to Pickwell’s room.”

“How would he know the location of the room you gave to Pickwell?” Matthias said.

That stopped her.

“Good question,” she said after a moment’s thought. “I don’t know. I suppose he would have had to go room by room. Maybe that’s why he went up to the third floor first. He was planning to work his way down through the house and leave the same way he came in.”

A short time later Matthias stood in the center of the room that Pickwell had used. Nothing appeared to have been touched since he had searched the place the previous night.

“The question is, what the hell was he looking for?” Matthias said.

He didn’t realize he had spoken aloud until Amalie gave him an odd look.

“I think that, under the circumstances, you owe me a few answers,” she said. “This is my home as well as my place of business, and it was invaded tonight. My aunt is in the hospital because of the intruder. We seem to be in the middle of a dangerous situation. I need to know what we’re dealing with here.”

He shoved his fingers through his hair and thought about the situation for a couple of seconds. She had a point. It was dangerous.

“At the start of this thing, I thought that it was in your own best interests not to know too much,” he said.

She swept out a hand. “As you can see, not knowing anything at all was clearly not in my best interests, or those of my aunt. There is a very good possibility that when news of what happened here tonight hits the Herald tomorrow, I really will be ruined.”

That jolted him. “Why would the press take much notice? You said nothing was taken.”

“You don’t seem to know how the press works, Mr. Jones. Allow me to explain a few of the facts of the innkeeper business to you. Maybe—just maybe—I could have survived the publicity surrounding Pickwell’s murder. After all, he wasn’t killed here at the inn and it’s the robot that has been getting all the attention. But now that there’s been another incident here at the Hidden Beach, one that landed an innocent woman in the hospital, it might be extremely difficult to attract paying customers after the news gets out. I definitely deserve some answers.”

“You’re right. Give me some time to take another look around up here. When I’m finished, I’ll explain why I’m interested in Pickwell. But I’d better warn you, at the moment I’ve got more questions than answers.”





Chapter 13


He could have been killed. The bitch had shot at him, not once but several times. It was pure luck that he hadn’t been hit.

Eugene Fenwick’s hand was shaking so badly it took him a couple of tries to raise the whiskey bottle to his mouth. When he finally did manage to reach his target, the glass rattled against his teeth.

He took a couple of fortifying swallows and lowered the bottle. For a moment he just stood there, breathing hard and staring at the cot with its sagging springs and stained mattress.

Amalie Vaughn was a cheap circus whore. What was she doing with a gun?

When his heart stopped pounding, he put the bottle down and crossed the room to his battered grip. He opened the old suitcase and looked down at the bundles of newspaper clippings and circus posters. On top of each neatly tied package there was an envelope with a name written on it. Inside each envelope was a long wire necklace strung with shiny black glass beads.

The envelope on top of the fourth bundle—the one marked Amalie Vaughn—was empty.

Eugene reached into his jacket and took out the black necklace that he had intended to leave in front of Amalie Vaughn’s bedroom door.

There would be another opportunity, he vowed. She could not be allowed to defeat him. He would avenge Marcus. When her turn finally came, he would make her pay for the fright she had given him tonight. He would toy with her longer than he and Marcus had toyed with the others. Make her think that he would let her live if she did exactly as he told her. Make her beg for her life.

Fury rose up inside him, threatening to choke him. Leaving the grip open, he went to the cot, sat down, and picked up the whiskey bottle again.

Everything had gone wrong tonight. In the old days Marcus had been the one who worked out the plan. He had been good at that kind of thing. Marcus had been real smart. He’d always said that it was important to make certain that things were under control before he made a girl fly. The goal was to enjoy the final performance, after all, and you couldn’t do that if you had to worry about an interruption.

Eugene still couldn’t believe what he’d seen that night in the tent. Marcus had gone down so hard and so fast he hadn’t even been able to scream. The sound of his body hitting the floor had stunned Eugene. It wasn’t supposed to end that way.