The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(20)

“What the hell did you think you were doing with that last prediction?” Thelma tossed the black tuxedo jacket across the back of the nearest chair. “Are you crazy? Tomorrow morning this whole town is going to wake up and grab the morning paper to see who got murdered overnight.”

“The stage act needed some fresh drama.” Zolanda yanked off the heavy turban, dropped it on the coffee table, and went to the liquor cabinet. “I decided to experiment. It worked. The audience loved it.”

Thelma’s jaw tensed in a stubborn line. “What are you going to do when there’s no headline about a bloody death in the Burning Cove Herald tomorrow?”

“Who knows? We may get lucky. In a town this size it’s entirely possible that someone will die overnight, either by accidental or natural causes.”

“And if the paper doesn’t report any deaths?”

“It won’t matter because it won’t be long before people will be talking about the mysterious disappearance of a certain tearoom waitress,” Zolanda said, trying for patience. “They won’t find a body, at least not right away, so everyone will assume that she was the one who suffered a bloody death. And when I discover the remains using my astonishing paranormal powers, I will be the most famous psychic in the nation.”

Thelma stared at her. “Are you out of your mind? When the waitress goes missing and turns up dead, the cops will question you. They’ll want to know how you could predict such a thing.”

Zolanda shrugged. “I’ve got the perfect explanation. I possess paranormal powers. Stop worrying, Thelma. The authorities won’t look twice at you.”

“I can’t believe this. You’re putting everything we’ve worked for at risk.”

“Stop fretting.” Zolanda yanked the stopper out of a decanter, splashed a large measure of whiskey into a glass, and took a fortifying swallow. “I know what I’m doing.”

Thelma stalked back and forth across the living room. “What if Adelaide Brockton, or whatever she’s calling herself these days, doesn’t disappear?”

“She will.”

But it wouldn’t matter one way or another, Zolanda thought, not if she had been successful tonight. She suppressed a satisfied smile. She had been nothing short of brilliant. The audience was riveted. The note she received in her dressing room after the performance said it all. Congratulations. You’re going to be a star.

She drank some more whiskey. She had given the performance of her life in that last act but she had lied to Thelma. The dramatic prediction she had used to close the show had nothing to do with the disappearance of the tearoom waitress. Adelaide Brockton was no longer important. She represented the past. Tonight the door to a glorious new future had been opened.

That future did not include Thelma.

“I hope you’re right,” Thelma said. “I still say you made a huge mistake, one that could backfire on both of us.”

“Stop fretting. Why don’t you run along and have some fun at the Carousel. In the morning you’ll see that everything is going to be just fine.”

“Yeah, sure.” Thelma shook her head. “I still say you should have talked to me before you pulled that stunt.”

She grabbed the limo keys and headed for the door.

Zolanda lit a cigarette and poured more whiskey into her glass. There were times when she envied Thelma. As far as the public was concerned, Thelma was just the psychic’s assistant and chauffeur. She got to relax when she wasn’t on the job. But for Madam Zolanda there was never a moment when she could be herself in public. The past three years had been exhausting.

It was all worth it, though, because she had been a great success tonight. She had come a long way from the midwestern farm town where she grew up. Wealthy socialites and Hollywood stars begged her for advice and confided their deepest secrets. She had collected a fortune in blackmail material during the past three years. But that was not enough. She had always dreamed of being a star, and soon that dream would come true.

The ornate gold and white enamel phone on the table rang. She picked it up, remembering to use her Zolanda voice. The caller asked one question. Zolanda responded.

“Yes, I’m alone.”

She hung up and poured herself another drink. She deserved to celebrate tonight.

A short time later she heard a car coming up the long, secluded drive.

She rushed to open the door. Her future was calling.





Chapter 12


Thoroughly rattled by the unexpected knock on her front door, Adelaide reacted instinctively and hit the light switch. The action plunged the kitchen into darkness. There was, she thought, no sense making a target out of herself.

On the other hand she was probably overreacting. Why would an intruder who had already invaded her home return to knock politely on her door? She could not think of a reasonable answer to that question.

“Adelaide, this is Jake Truett. Are you all right? If you don’t respond, I’m coming in.”

Relief washed through her in a disorienting wave. She lowered the gun to her side and hurried to open the door. Jake glanced at her with hard, cold eyes and then looked past her, searching the shadows.

“Jake,” she said. “You don’t know how happy I am to see—” She froze when she caught the glint of metal in his hand. She looked down and saw the gun he was holding alongside his thigh.