Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(25)

“Does the Broker know his identity?”

“Probably not, but you can bet he will be looking for Smith, and Smith has to know that. He won’t want to hang around. Meanwhile, you must not talk about any of this, do you understand? Whatever you do, do not so much as breathe Smith’s name. Are we clear? I told you as much as I did tonight only because you have a right to know what’s going on in your own home. But I need your word that you won’t discuss this with anyone else. It would put you in grave danger.”

“What about Hazel?” Amalie asked. “She’ll be coming home from the hospital soon. The doctor assured me that she is going to be okay. What am I supposed to tell her?”

“Tell her that after what happened here tonight, Luther Pell became concerned for the safety of the ladies running the Hidden Beach Inn. He insisted on providing some security for you until the authorities arrest the intruder who broke in here tonight.”

“Just a neighborly gesture by the local nightclub proprietor, hmm?”

“Something like that.”

“No one, including Hazel, will believe that story, not for a minute,” Amalie said.

“Well, you could always tell people that, while visiting my pal Luther Pell, I fell for you, and that I moved into the inn in order to get closer to you.”

Amalie winced. “Forget it. That will never fly. Let’s stick with the first version. In the spirit of neighborly concern, Luther Pell suggested that one of his business associates move into the inn in order to provide security. People will have their doubts, I’m sure, but they will certainly understand that the new owner of the Hidden Beach Inn is nervous and deeply appreciative of Pell’s offer.”

“You prefer that version?” Matthias asked.

“It’s just a tad more believable, and it has one huge advantage over the other version.”

Matthias studied her with unconcealed curiosity. “What’s the advantage?”

“It’s the truth. We don’t have to pretend that you moved in because you developed a sudden romantic interest in me. I really don’t need that kind of gossip going around Burning Cove.”

Matthias’s eyes narrowed a little. “Exactly what kind of gossip are you talking about?”

“Do I have to spell it out?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Fine,” she said. She waved her hands. “I don’t want people thinking that I’m a . . . a gun moll.”

“I believe that term is used only in the movies.”

“So? Everyone goes to the movies. That’s the term people know.”

Matthias gave her an unreadable look. “Do you really think that is what people will call you if I move in here?”

She gave him her brightest, most sparkly smile, the one she reserved for showtime.

“You said you could read crime scenes, Mr. Jones. Well, I can read an audience. I promise you that if you insist on moving in here, there will be talk.”

“Amalie . . .” he began.

“Speaking of scenes . . .”

“What about them?”

She glanced at the copy of the Herald on the table. “It was like a scene out of a horror movie, wasn’t it?”

Distracted, Matthias came forward to study the photo of Futuro and the accompanying headline. “Huh.”

Amalie watched him, fascinated by the edgy energy that charged the atmosphere around him.

“Yes, it was,” he said very softly. “Exactly like a scene from a movie.”

“Right down to the inventor’s dying words.” Amalie tapped the second paragraph of Irene Ward’s story and intoned the quote in a theatrical voice. “The creature turned on me. I should have known better than to play Frankenstein.”

Matthias looked up, his eyes sharp and fierce.

“Interesting.”

“Give me a break,” Amalie said. “You don’t really think that Dr. Pickwell actually said that with his dying breath, do you? He wouldn’t have been in a mood to philosophize about the nature of man-made machines. I’ll bet the ambulance attendant quoted some horror movie dialogue just to get his own name in the papers.”

Matthias picked up the newspaper, snapped it open, and took a closer look at the story. “If that was his plan, it worked perfectly. Thanks to Irene Ward’s attention to detail, we know that the ambulance attendant’s name is Seymour Webster. We also know where he is employed. He works the night shift at the local hospital. Shouldn’t be hard to find him.”

“Why do you want to talk to him?” Amalie asked.

“Pickwell was going into shock when he was loaded into the ambulance,” Matthias said. “He was dead by the time they got him to the hospital. But maybe he really did have some last words.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That I need to talk to the ambulance attendant.”





Chapter 15


Hazel was aghast. “You rented one of our rooms to that mobster pal of Luther Pell’s? Are you out of your mind?”

She was propped up on the pillows of her hospital bed, her head swathed in bandages. She had looked pale and pathetic when Amalie had walked into the room but the news of their new paying guest at the inn had revived her more effectively than a shot of whiskey. There was an unmistakable glitter of strong emotion in her eyes. Disbelief, maybe, or possibly horror.