The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(33)
Luther turned around to face her. He looked amused. “Organized crime is the dark side of the legitimate business world, Miss Kirk. The same powerful forces are at work. And power, regardless of the source, is always fascinating.”
“Only to those who have not been burned by it,” she said before she could stop herself. “Sensible people are cautious when dealing with powerful individuals.”
“I take it you have been burned by someone who wielded a lot of power?”
“We are not here to discuss my personal life, Mr. Pell.”
He raised one shoulder in an elegant shrug. “The point I am trying to make is that I do know what I am selling at the Paradise Club.”
“A fantasy.”
“A fantasy with just enough reality infused into it to make it seem very, very real.”
“That is very insightful of you.”
“You sound surprised.”
“I am quite sure that you always know exactly what you’re doing, Mr. Pell.” She tapped the pencil on the notepad. “I do have a question for you.”
“You want to know why I haven’t taken this problem to my own security team.”
“Yes. Can I assume that means you suspect one of your security people might be involved in the pilfering?”
“It’s not exactly pilfering, Miss Kirk. We’re talking about small but steady losses that, if they continue, will add up to a considerable amount of money over time. And, yes, there is a possibility that someone on my security force is behind the theft. It would explain how someone is managing to sneak the liquor out of the locked storage room without being detected.” Luther glanced at his watch. “I have another appointment. I’d like to get this matter settled. Will you take my case or not?”
She hesitated only a couple of seconds. A successful conclusion to a case that had been brought to her by one of the most powerful men in Burning Cove would do wonders to establish her agency.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll take the case.”
“Excellent.” Luther smiled a very satisfied smile. “You’ll want a retainer.”
“Of course.” In spite of her uncertainties about Luther Pell, she got an odd little rush of excitement. She had landed her very first case. She was now a real private investigator. “I’ll want to take a look around your club. I’ll need to assess your current security arrangements so that I can analyze possible weak points.”
“Whenever it’s convenient for you,” he agreed. “Just say the word.”
She pretended to study her calendar. The only appointment on it was the one she had made a few minutes ago with Adelaide.
“I’m free tomorrow morning,” she said, trying to make it sound as if she could just barely squeeze him into her busy schedule.
“I’ll tell my men to expect you,” Luther said. “Thank you, Miss Kirk. I’ll look forward to working with you.”
He wrote out a check and left with the air of a man who had accomplished his objective and now had other important things to do.
She sat quietly for a time, thinking about Luther Pell. She was pleased to have the business, but her intuition told her that something did not feel right. After a moment or two she realized what was bothering her.
Luther Pell had not tried to probe deeply into her previous investigative experience. He had accepted her carefully prepared cover story without so much as a single question. That should have been reassuring but for some reason it was not.
She had dealt with dangerous men in the past. If there was one thing she knew for certain, it was that such men did not do business with people whose backgrounds they had not thoroughly researched. She cast her mind back, recalling every aspect of her departure from New York. She had planned her exit carefully and paid attention to every detail. She was almost certain that there was nothing for Luther to discover that might make him question her story.
Almost certain.
Chapter 21
Thelma Leggett opened the trunk of the aging sedan and removed the hatbox containing the stash of secrets. It had been her idea, which she hadn’t shared with Zolanda, to conceal the blackmail materials in the back of the limo. Her theory had been that it was a far more secure location than the villa. Anyone, including the housekeeper who came in daily, could search the big house while the occupants were out. But it was far less likely that a potential thief would look for a hatbox in the back of a car.
There had been another reason for storing the secrets in the limo’s locked trunk. With rare exceptions the car was usually close at hand, where Thelma, in her role as chauffeur, could keep an eye on it. Early that morning when she had dumped the big car in favor of the old sedan she had stolen in a poor neighborhood, she had simply transferred the hatbox from one vehicle to the other. It had been a shame to get rid of the limousine but she had no option. It was far too memorable.
The shabby old cabin on the outskirts of the decaying seaside town had been deserted for a while now. It was filthy and in need of repairs. There were indications that various rodents and a few transients had taken up residence from time to time. Definitely not the sort of classy accommodations she had become accustomed to during the three years that she and Zolanda had been running the psychic-to-the-stars game, Thelma concluded. But the one-room structure had a very big advantage—none of Zolanda’s clients knew about it. No one could follow her here.