The Other Lady Vanishes (Burning Cove #2)(59)

“Why don’t you wait outside?” he suggested, his voice gentling.

She shook her head and stepped away from the comfort he was offering. She forced herself to take another look at the cot. Thelma had evidently been sitting on the edge of the bed when she put the pistol to her temple and pulled the trigger. She had fallen backward across the quilt. Her fingers were still wrapped around the gun.

“What is going on here?” she said.

“It would be easy to assume that someone was after the stash of blackmail secrets. But now, given what happened to Zolanda and what you told me about Ormsby’s death, I’m wondering if we’re looking at something a lot more complicated.”

“Such as?”

“You described a drug ring operating out of the Rushbrook Sanitarium. People engaged in that business tend to be vicious and ruthless. Maybe the killer has concluded that it’s time to leave the old gang behind and strike out on his own.”

“Why murder Ormsby, the person who concocted the drugs?” Adelaide asked.

“Whoever is behind this may have concluded Ormsby had become a problem. Or maybe Ormsby was no longer needed. There are other chemists in the world.”

“Where do Zolanda and Thelma Leggett fit in?” Adelaide asked.

“The drug business is a business like any other. In addition to a manufacturing facility it requires distributors and sales reps who know how to target a certain market, in this case a very exclusive market.”

“Zolanda and Leggett had access to some of the most important people in Hollywood. Talk about an exclusive market.”

“This is all speculation but things are starting to come together,” Jake said.

“What do we do? Contact the FBI?”

“No,” Jake said. “Not yet.”

“You’re right. It’s too soon. We don’t have any proof. We’re leaping to conclusions, aren’t we? Maybe Thelma Leggett really did kill herself. The gun is still in her hand.”

“Which is one of the reasons I don’t believe she took her own life,” Jake said. “She would have been sitting on the side of the bed when she pulled the trigger. The gun would have fallen from her hand and most likely landed on the floor or close to the edge of the mattress. She certainly wouldn’t have kept her grip on it as she fell onto her back.”

Adelaide wanted to ask him how he could be so sure of that analysis, but this was not the time.

“You said that was one of the reasons you don’t think this is suicide,” she said. “What else?”

“The suitcase,” Jake said.

They both looked at the grip sitting on the floor near the door.

“What about it?” Adelaide asked.

“It looks like Thelma was getting ready to leave. Why would she bother to pack her bag if she was about to kill herself?”

“Maybe she never unpacked in the first place.”

Jake shook his head. “She was here for a couple of days. There are dishes in the sink, a loaf of bread and some cheese on the counter, and that bottle of whiskey is empty.”

“You’re right. At the very least, she would have opened the suitcase to take out a nightgown and a change of clothes.” Adelaide looked at the door. “She was on her way out of town, wasn’t she?”

“I think she got scared and decided to run again. But the killer got here before she could escape.”

“If we’re right, she didn’t put up much of a struggle.”

“She probably didn’t have a chance.” Jake started opening and closing cupboards and drawers. “Most people do exactly as they’re told when someone aims a gun at them.”

Adelaide looked at the empty whiskey bottle. “Most people are also highly suggestible when they are under the influence of Daydream.”

“Don’t remind me.” Jake closed the last cupboard. “Nothing here. I’m going to take a look at her car. Maybe she left something in the trunk. While I’m doing that, check the suitcase and her handbag. Use a handkerchief. When we’ve finished searching the place, we’ll find a pay phone and call the cops to report the body. They’ll know we were in here but there’s no sense leaving any more fingerprints around than necessary.”

“All right,” Adelaide said. She opened her handbag and extracted a neatly folded linen handkerchief. “What am I looking for?”

“I have no idea. I just hope that we’ll know it when we see it.”

Jake let himself outside, leaving the door open behind him.

She crouched beside the suitcase and got it open. There was a jumble of clothes inside and some toiletries but no envelope containing a blackmailer’s secrets and no journal with a list of potential victims.

She got up and went to the front door.

“Looks like Leggett packed in a hurry,” she said. “But I didn’t see anything that looked like a clue. No tickets. No money. No papers. Definitely no blackmail secrets. How do you transport extortion secrets, anyway?”

“Depends on the secrets.” Jake closed the trunk of the Ford and came back up the steps. “If I’m right about Madam Zolanda having collected blackmail materials for some time, she must have had a sizable stash. She probably also had a journal with names, dates, addresses, phone numbers, and incriminating details. There might have been photos and documents, as well. I’d say we’re looking for something the size of a small suitcase.”