The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(22)

What if she was hallucinating?

She thought about the last glass of whiskey she had finished before climbing the stairs to the roof of the villa.

A drop of poison.

“The drug,” she gasped. “You gave me some of the drug, didn’t you?”

The killer watched her from the shadows, saying nothing.

The horror of what was happening was swept away by a searing rage.

“You lied to me,” Zolanda hissed. “You poisoned me with Daydream. I’ll kill you.”

She tried to lunge toward the killer but the monsters of the night were moving toward her now. Their eyes glittered with a hellish fire.

Some small part of her mind struggled with reality. She was not seeing monsters with eyes of fire—the killer had just lit a cigarette.

But the hallucinations were in control. The dazzling rivers of the night swirled around her in fiery, disorienting waves. She staggered wildly on the parapet.

The monsters advanced, relentless and implacable. The killer told her exactly why she was going to jump off the roof of the villa and quoted the old adage about revenge—a dish that was best served cold.

“No,” she said, desperate to save herself. “You don’t understand. It was all a mistake. I can explain.”

But the killer did not believe her.

Zolanda lost her balance and fell, shrieking, into the night.

The screaming stopped when she landed on the unforgiving concrete patio.

The killer went downstairs, crowbar in hand, walked through the glass-walled conservatory, and stepped outside onto the patio. The psychic to the stars was very dead. There was no need to use the length of heavy metal to finish the job.

The killer went back into the house and began to search for the psychic’s stash of blackmail secrets. The drug had hypnotic as well as hallucinogenic properties. In her delirium, Zolanda had talked freely, describing exactly where she had hidden the papers.

Panic set in a short time later. There was no sign of the extortion material. Zolanda had probably not lied—the drug was very powerful—but she had somehow succeeded in taking her secrets to the grave.





Chapter 14


“You’re not going to be able to sleep tonight, are you?” Jake asked.

Adelaide looked at him with haunted eyes.

“Probably not,” she said. “But that’s my problem. Don’t worry about me. I appreciate your taking a look around but, as I told you, nothing is missing and every window is locked now.”

They were sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Adelaide had surprised him by brewing coffee instead of one of her unique tea blends. Some situations require coffee, she had explained. He had agreed.

At least she was no longer pointing her little pistol at him. But the gun was currently lying on top of the big, scarred kitchen table, within reach. That made him uneasy because it was obvious that she had not had a lot of experience with it. She seemed to know the basics but she was not comfortable with the weapon. Guns in the hands of professionals were dangerous enough. In the hands of amateurs they were an even greater cause for concern because of the possibility that the trigger would get pulled by accident or impulse.

His own gun was also on the table, also close at hand. He’d left the shoulder holster behind on his nightstand. There had not been time to buckle it on after he’d become alarmed by the lights in Adelaide’s cottage.

They had established a cautious truce but were circling each other warily. He knew that Adelaide was not telling him everything but he also sensed that she was not lying to him. Fair enough. She had a right to her secrets. He was keeping a few from her.

All things considered, it had been a very unusual first date.

“I could stay here until morning,” he said.

He realized immediately that the offer had not come out quite the way he had intended.

She tensed. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”

He groaned. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”

She relaxed a little. A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “I know. But, really, I’ll be all right. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if I actually did leave the laundry room window open.”

“You said you thought the shoe rack in your wardrobe had been moved—as if someone had searched the place for valuables.”

“Maybe I was wrong about that, too,” Adelaide said, her tone stark. She shook her head. “Maybe I imagined that it had been moved. I . . . get a little nervous after dark.”

The possibility that she had let her imagination run away with her common sense disturbed her more than seemed appropriate under the circumstances. After all, she was a woman living alone. She had a right to be extra cautious, especially at night.

He glanced at the gun.

“One question comes to mind,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed a little. “What’s that?”

“If someone did search your house looking for valuables, why didn’t he find the gun?” A thought struck. Now his nerves really were rattled. “Don’t tell me you had it in your handbag all evening.”

“Of course not,” she said.

“I’m relieved to hear that.”

“I keep it under my bed.”

She slept with a gun under the bed. The lady was running from someone; a man, most likely.