The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(26)

He brought the speedster to a halt at the front of the villa.

“This is some house,” he remarked, shutting down the engine.

“Florence told me that it was built by a tycoon just before the crash,” Adelaide explained. “The tycoon lost everything when the market plunged. This mansion was neglected for years and then another very wealthy man from L.A. picked it up. He poured a lot of money into it and now rents it out to celebrities who want more privacy than they can get at the Burning Cove Hotel.”

Jake opened his door, climbed out from behind the wheel, and walked around to her side of the car to open the door. She got out, bag of tea in hand. Together they went up the front steps. She pressed the doorbell.

“It really wasn’t necessary for you to accompany me today,” she said, not for the first time.

“I told you, I’ve got a personal interest in Madam Zolanda.”

“Yes,” she said. “You did tell me that.”

She did not say anything else. They waited in silence for a minute or two.

“I thought the assistant told you that this was an emergency,” Jake said.

She pressed the doorbell again. Again there was no response.

“Maybe they’re having breakfast out on the patio,” she suggested. “It’s a big house. They might not hear the bell.”

She started walking along a flagstone path that led through the gardens to the rear of the villa. Jake followed without comment. He had been in a grim, somber mood since finding the cigarette butts and the matchbook, but there was a new level of tension in the atmosphere around him now.

“This vacation is not doing a lot for your nerves, is it?” she said. “I’ll bet your doctor would be very unhappy if he could see you today.”

“I don’t plan to tell him.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” she said. She raised her voice. “Miss Leggett? Madam Zolanda? It’s Adelaide Brockton. I have your Enlightenment blend.”

She and Jake rounded the back of the house and stopped at the edge of the large concrete patio. Some lounge chairs, a table, and an umbrella furnished the garden retreat.

There was also an untidy bundle of what appeared to be vividly colored silk scarves.

Adelaide stopped abruptly.

“No,” she said very softly.

Madam Zolanda had been a tall, dramatic figure in life. She looked so much smaller in death.





Chapter 17


“Stay here,” Jake said.

He touched Adelaide’s shoulder briefly as he moved around her, silently reinforcing the command.

She watched him crouch beside the body. Something about the swift, efficient manner in which he moved told her that this wasn’t the first time he had dealt with the dead. She thought about Raina Kirk’s opinion of Jake’s old line of work. The import-export business has been known to cover a multitude of illegal activities. And then she remembered what Raina had said about the death of Jake’s wife. Mrs. Truett hanged herself in the basement. Truett found the body.

“She’s been dead for a while,” Jake said. He got to his feet. “Several hours, I think. Her neck is broken.” He looked up at the roof of the house. “She must have jumped. Or else someone wants us to believe that’s what happened.”

Adelaide looked up at the high parapet that decorated the roof of the villa. “Someone wants us to believe she jumped?”

“If I’m right about Zolanda, she was collecting blackmail secrets from a lot of people. It’s possible that one of her victims tracked her down and silenced her.”

“I understand.”

It made sense, but dark memories of the night that Dr. Ormsby, hallucinating wildly, had leaped through the arched window at the Rushbrook Sanitarium ghosted through Adelaide’s head. It must be a coincidence, she thought. Just a horrible coincidence.

She realized Jake was watching her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “I’m not. But I’m not going to faint, if that’s what’s worrying you. Jake, this makes no sense. Thelma called me a short time ago. You said Zolanda has been dead for quite a while.”

“I think so, yes. I want to take a look around inside before we call the police.”

“You’re hoping to find that diary that you said Zolanda was using to blackmail your friend.”

“It’s a long shot, but I have to check it out.”

Jake was already moving toward the open doors of the conservatory attached to the back of the mansion.

Unable to think of anything else to do, she trailed after him. The glass room was furnished with green wrought iron benches and a lot of potted plants. Jake took in the surroundings with a quick, assessing glance and kept going.

He opened another door and led the way along a wide, arched hall. At the far end he started up an elegant staircase.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

He disappeared on the landing.

Adelaide realized she was still clutching the packet of Enlightenment tea. She turned slowly on her heel and looked around. From where she stood she had a view of the grand living room with its high ceiling, arched windows, and dark wooden beams.

The interior of the villa was as exotic as the outside. The walls were painted a rich ocher. There was a lot of colorful tile work around the hearth. The furniture was mostly covered in saddle brown leather and accented with throw pillows in jewel-toned fabrics.