Tightrope (Burning Cove #3)(28)

“I must tell you that relaxation is not why I’m here, Miss Vaughn.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re quite right about the demands of my professional life. At the moment they are extremely severe. I am hoping that your charming villa will be just what the doctor ordered, so to speak.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Mr. Hyde.”

Vincent’s smile was cold and rather grim. “I’m sure you’re aware that the Hidden Beach Inn has been in the news lately. There was the mysterious death of Madam Zolanda, a charming psychic whom I had reason to consult on a couple of occasions. And now your first guest was murdered in a spectacular fashion in front of an audience by a robot, of all things.”

Amalie’s spirits sank. This conversation was not going well. She went behind the front desk and confronted Vincent with as much cool resolve as she could muster.

“I fail to see what those two extremely unfortunate incidents have to do with your decision to stay here at the Hidden Beach Inn, Mr. Hyde,” she said.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Vincent said. “I’m hoping that the strange and rather eerie events that have occurred here will help me prepare for my next role. The studio and I are still in negotiations, but I have every expectation of being signed for the lead in a vampire film. The working title is Nightmare Lane.”

Amalie reminded herself of the advice she had quoted to Hazel. If something seems too good to be true . . .

“If you’re in search of a dark, depressing atmosphere, I’m afraid you’re due to be very disappointed,” she said. “Here at the Hidden Beach Inn we strive to provide our guests with an idyllic seaside experience.”

Vincent’s eyes glittered with icy amusement. “Perhaps you haven’t seen today’s edition of Hollywood Whispers?”

“I’ve been a little busy lately.”

“Allow me.” Vincent snapped his fingers. “Jasper, show Miss Vaughn the copy of Whispers that I was reading on the way here today.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Hyde.” Jasper looked at Amalie. “Where would you like me to put these groceries, Miss Vaughn?”

“Please set them down on the desk. I’ll deal with them later.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Jasper put the sack down and hurried back outside. When he reappeared a moment later, he had a folded newspaper in his hand. Without a word he put the paper on the front desk in front of Amalie.

“Thank you,” she said.

Jasper inclined his head once, in a short, jerky manner, and retreated a couple of steps.

“It was the latest Lorraine Pierce column that compelled me,” Vincent said. “Front page. You can’t miss it.”

Amalie winced when she saw the headline.

THE CURSE OF MADAM ZOLANDA?

MANSION WHERE FAMOUS PSYCHIC DIED UNDER

MYSTERIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES CLAIMS ANOTHER VICTIM.

    Your correspondent has learned that the recent shocking murder of Dr. Norman Pickwell, the inventor who was gunned down by his own robot, has an ominous connection to a certain villa in Burning Cove, California.

Readers will recall that it was not long ago that Madam Zolanda, the famous Psychic to the Stars, predicted her own death onstage at the Palace, a popular theater in Burning Cove. The morning after the performance her body was discovered on the patio of the villa. The official verdict was suicide but there were many who questioned that conclusion at the time and still do.

But now your humble correspondent is hearing whispers that the doomed Dr. Pickwell was a guest at the very same villa where the Psychic to the Stars died.

Is it any wonder that the residents of Burning Cove have come up with a new name for the Hidden Beach Inn? Rumor has it that the locals have begun referring to the villa as the “Psychic Curse Mansion.” Who will be the next victim?



How much worse could the publicity disaster get? Amalie wondered.

Reminding herself that she had a paying customer standing in front of her, she folded the newspaper with short, crisp motions and gave Vincent her dazzle-the-audience smile.

“You do realize that Miss Pierce’s column is pure nonsense, I assume?” she said.

Vincent chuckled. “Certainly, but that is precisely the point. It occurs to me that you and I are both in a position to benefit from the rumors swirling around your little inn.”

“The only rumors I’ve noticed are those in Miss Pierce’s column.”

Vincent heaved a languid sigh, glanced at the paper, and shook his head in a sorrowful manner.

“You must believe me when I tell you that I have spent enough time in Hollywood to know that the story in Pierce’s column this morning will catch fire. I wouldn’t be surprised if it is going national as we speak.”

Amalie stared at him, shocked. “Do you really think so?”

“I can almost guarantee it, Miss Vaughn. Lorraine Pierce is one of the most widely read gossip columnists in Hollywood. Her goal is to become the most widely read columnist in the country.”

“She’s ambitious?”

Vincent flashed a wry, world-weary smile. “Everyone in Hollywood is ambitious, Miss Vaughn.”

Amalie squared her shoulders. “I’m ambitious, too. I am, in fact, trying very hard to get my business up and running so that I can keep myself and my aunt in groceries.”