Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(26)

Amalie was not surprised by the transformation. Circus people were show people. That went double for the aerialists, who were usually the stars. They possessed an innate talent for drama.

“We don’t know for certain that Mr. Jones is connected to the mob,” Amalie said.

“He’s a friend of that nightclub owner, Luther Pell. Trust me, Jones has mob ties.”

“You need to look at this from the positive angle,” Amalie said.

“What is positive about renting a room to a known criminal?”

“We don’t know for certain that he’s a criminal,” Amalie said, striving for a soothing tone. “Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”

“We are not running a courtroom at the Hidden Beach. We’re in the inn-keeping business. Has Jones checked in yet?”

“He came by earlier today to drop off his suitcase and pick up his key.”

“Where is he now?”

“I don’t know,” Amalie admitted. “When he left he said he was going to try to find one of the ambulance attendants who took Dr. Pickwell to the hospital.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“Mr. Jones seems to be some sort of private investigator.”

“Who works for a mob boss?”

“It’s probably not quite that simple,” Amalie said.

“Private investigators are a shady lot if you ask me,” Hazel declared.

“How many do you know?”

“Well, there’s that lady friend of Pell’s, Raina Kirk.”

“Whom neither of us has ever met,” Amalie pointed out.

“She’s Pell’s girlfriend. That tells us everything we need to know. Forget Miss Kirk. Why is Jones so interested in Pickwell’s murder?”

“It seems that Dr. Pickwell may have stolen something valuable and that he was killed because of it,” Amalie said. “Mr. Jones is trying to find the missing item.”

“And he thinks that moving into the Hidden Beach Inn will help in his investigation? That’s nonsense. He’s already searched the place. He knows there’s nothing there to find.”

“Hazel, pay attention,” Amalie said. “He’s not moving into our inn because he expects to discover the missing item concealed in the conservatory or the gardens. He insisted on taking a room there because of what happened to you last night.”

“Me?”

“His theory is that whoever assaulted you is involved in the Pickwell murder. Mr. Jones is concerned the intruder might return.”

Hazel’s eyes widened in shock.

“Good heavens,” she said. “If Jones is right, you and I are both in terrible danger. We’re two women all alone out there at the inn.”

“Except for my gun,” Amalie said.

Hazel ignored that. She got a thoughtful expression. “You’re telling me that Mr. Jones is moving into the Hidden Beach to provide us with security?”

“Exactly.”

“Hmm.”

Amalie was suddenly wary.

“What are you thinking, Hazel?”

“It occurs to me that there might be a way to turn this situation into an advantage.”

“How?”

“Mr. Jones is a friend of Luther Pell’s, and Pell is one of the most powerful people in town,” Hazel said.

“So?”

“So having one of his close associates under our roof could be just the boost we need to move beyond our current little publicity problem.”

“Right,” Amalie said. “I can see the advertising slogan now. Welcome to Hidden Beach Inn. The First Choice of Classy Mobsters.”

“I’m serious,” Hazel said.

“So am I. You want the truth, Hazel? We don’t have a lot of options here.”

“I agree. If we don’t attract some business soon, we’ll be ruined. We can’t afford to be choosy. Catering to guests who are affiliated with the criminal underworld was not part of our initial business plan, but there’s potential in that market. Everyone knows that mob guys have money to burn. One thing’s for sure: You need help, honey. I have to get out of here today.”

“The doctor said he wants to keep you one more day for observation,” Amalie said. “He also told me that when you do go home, you’re to take it easy for a full week.”

“Yeah, yeah, I heard what he said. We’re circus people, honey. We don’t take time off to lie around in bed. Also, we both know we can’t afford a week in the hospital.”

“Make it one more day,” Amalie said. She bent over the bed and kissed Hazel on the forehead. “Your job right now is to get some rest.”

Resigned, Hazel sank back against the pillow. “I’ll be home tomorrow. Meanwhile, be careful.”

Amalie smiled and went to the door. “Don’t worry, I can handle one paying customer.”





Chapter 16


The first indication that her business had undergone a dramatic improvement was the sight of the gleaming limousine parked in front of the entrance.

There was no sign of Matthias Jones’s sleek maroon Packard.

Amalie brought her Hudson coupe to a halt, shut down the engine, and watched in amazement as a man got out from behind the wheel of the limo. Sunglasses and a black cap concealed his eyes. A gold earring glinted in one ear. He wore a black leather vest studded with a lot of steel studs, black trousers, and black boots. The sleeveless vest revealed muscular arms covered in tattoos.