She would be a grown-up, real-life Nancy Drew. She even had the car for the job. And a stylish trench coat. And a very fashionable fedora.
Yesterday the Adlingtons had dramatically changed her view of the profession.
The champagne and the dancing had been a fine tonic, but like all such remedies, the effects had been short-lived. By morning they had worn off, leaving behind the memory of the sickening thud of the golf club striking Charles Adlington’s skull. Her dreams had been filled with the disturbing images of the three iron lying in the wrong position on the patio and the additional damage that had been done to Adlington’s head. She would never forget Marcella Adlington’s words. I had to be sure.
She had arrived at work this morning intending to have a long talk with Raina. She had planned to explain that she had some doubts about what she had been convinced was her calling. She had wanted to discuss the realities of what lay ahead.
But it was clear now that she would have to rethink her career options at some point in the future because Raina had left her in charge of Kirk Investigations. She could not just walk out the door and close down the office. She had to stick around until Raina returned. She had responsibilities.
She pushed herself away from the door, straightened her shoulders, and started across the room to her desk. It was Tuesday. She could handle the office until Friday. What could possibly go wrong between now and the end of the week?
What was really starting to worry her was the growing conviction that her boss was in serious trouble.
Rule number one is always assume the client is lying or, at the very least, not telling you the whole truth. Everyone has secrets to protect.
Chapter 7
Simon set the briefcase on the massive wooden desk. He unlatched it and started to open it.
Luther leaned forward and eyed the hole in the leather on the side of the briefcase. Light glinted on the bit of steel that could be seen underneath.
“Looks like a bullet hole,” he said.
“The book business can get rough at times,” Simon said. He reached into the briefcase, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Luther. “I think this packet contains the items you asked me to find.”
Luther ripped open the envelope and dumped a small diary and a couple of letters onto the desk. “Yes. Thank you. My friend will be extremely grateful. His son’s career is at stake. Why people write down potentially damaging information about their personal lives is a mystery to me. You’d think they would figure out how disastrous that kind of stuff can be.”
Simon looked at a couple of the paintings hanging on the paneled walls of Luther’s office. The pictures were landscapes that depicted the coast around Burning Cove during violent storms. There were no figures in the scenes, but the images seethed with violence and rage and anguish.
Simon had once made the mistake of getting too close to one of Luther’s paintings. The energy infused into it was so fierce he had not even had to touch it to sense that the scene came straight out of Pell’s nightmares. Luther might not make the mistake of writing letters or keeping a diary, but he sure as hell had found a way to exorcise a few of his personal demons.
“It can be extremely difficult to conceal strong emotions,” Simon said. “Your friend’s son apparently believed himself to be deeply in love.”
“With another man. This diary and these letters would have destroyed both of their careers.” Luther glanced at the heap of envelopes, papers, and photographs that remained inside the briefcase. “Did you find all of these items in Lennox’s library?”
“Yes. I decided I might as well take them, too. No sense letting the Bureau get hold of a lot of material that could ruin the lives of so many people.”
Luther smiled a cold smile. “J. Edgar Hoover would love to get his hands on this stuff. Nothing he enjoys more than having leverage over other people.”
“The Bureau’s special agents were happy enough with the records of Lennox’s financial dealings. They’ll never miss these items because they weren’t aware they exist.”
“I’ll see to it that these materials are returned to their rightful owners,” Luther said. “Anonymously, of course.”
Simon closed and latched the briefcase.
Luther watched him. “How’s the burn doing?”
“It’s fine,” Simon said. “It gets a little irritated from time to time but I’m told that’s normal.”
“I owe you,” Luther said.
“No, you don’t. If we’re finished here, I’ll be on my way.”
“Heading back to Los Angeles so soon?” Luther asked.
“No, thought I’d check into a local hotel and take a short vacation.”
“I can get you a room at the Burning Cove.”
“I’ve heard that hotel is booked solid for months in advance.”
“I’ve got connections.”
Simon smiled. “Imagine that. Thanks. I’ll take you up on the offer.”
“By the way, why don’t you join me for drinks at the Paradise this evening? I’ll introduce you to a friend. Raina Kirk. She owns the only private investigation agency in town.”
“A lady private investigator? Sounds interesting.”
“I’ll ask her to bring along her new apprentice. I think you’ll find Miss Brazier interesting, too. She’s single. Attractive. Smart.”
“I didn’t know there was such a thing as an apprentice private investigator.”
“Lyra learns fast,” Luther said. “Got a hunch she’ll be promoted soon.”
“What makes you say that?”
Luther picked up the phone. “She was attacked by a madman yesterday when she walked in on a murder in progress. She defended herself with a three iron.”
“Huh.” Simon felt a stirring of interest. “What happened to the guy who tried to kill her?”
“Died of severe injuries to the head. A three iron can do a lot of damage if you know how to handle it.”
“And Miss Brazier?”
“Knows how to handle a three iron.” Luther pushed a copy of the Burning Cove Herald across the desk. “Afterward she spent the night drinking champagne and dancing in my club.”
Simon studied the picture of a stylish woman in a pale gown and high heels getting out of a cab in front of the Paradise Club. He could not take his eyes off her. Even in a newspaper photo she was a compelling fusion of mystery and glamour. Anticipation heated his blood. A lady PI who had taken down an insane killer and then partied all night at a hot nightclub was just the kind of woman he had hoped to find in Burning Cove. A reckless, free-spirited, modern woman. The sort who came with no strings attached.