Raina tried and failed to come up with a comforting response. She said the only words she knew to be true.
“You did what you had to do to save yourself and Marcella Adlington,” she said. “That’s all that matters. There are always unanswered questions in this business. Fact of life. You have the makings of a good investigator, but I believe you should give your career plans some serious thought before you decide if you want to stay with this firm.”
Lyra folded her arms. “Okay.”
“And now we are going to follow a long-standing tradition in this business.”
Lyra gave her a wan smile. “What’s that?”
“We’re going to celebrate.”
Lyra looked bemused. “What are we celebrating?”
“How about the fact that you and Marcella Adlington both survived?”
Lyra took a deep breath. “You’re right. That is definitely something worth celebrating.”
“This evening you and I will go out on the town. We will start with cocktails and dinner at the Burning Cove Hotel and then we will catch a cab to the hottest nightclub in town, the Paradise.”
Chapter 3
I’m afraid you have become a problem, Mr. Cage.” Erling Lennox took a pistol out from inside his hand-tailored coat. “You have served your purpose. I am delighted with the Milton you found for me. But I’m afraid that in the process of tracking it down you learned too much about my collection and my business. I regret I won’t have the opportunity to make use of your expertise in the future. You came highly recommended.”
“I appreciate the compliment,” Simon Cage said, “but I won’t be able to return it. In the course of my work I have encountered any number of murderers, blackmailers, and embezzlers who were a hell of a lot smarter than you are. On a scale of one to ten, I’d put you at about a three.”
It took a couple of beats for the insult to register. When it did, Lennox reddened with fury. Like so many men born into a world of wealth, privilege, and power, he assumed he was vastly more intelligent than those he considered his social inferiors. Simon never ceased to be amazed by the fact that people who got away with blackmail or murder once or twice came to the conclusion they were superior beings. Men like Lennox experienced an intoxicating sense of power when they discovered they could manipulate others or take a human life.
“Who are you, Simon Cage?” Lennox asked. “You aren’t a real book dealer, are you?” The flash of rage was fading from his eyes now. A trace of wariness, perhaps even outright alarm, was taking its place. “What is going on here?”
“I’m exactly who it says I am on my business card. Simon Cage, Antiquarian Book Dealer. The Milton is a forgery, by the way. You were conned. Nothing personal. Just part of the job.”
Lennox moved out from behind his desk. He kept the pistol leveled at Simon’s chest.
“Who are you working for?” he rasped.
They were in Lennox’s private library, an elegantly paneled room in an impressively furnished mansion located on a hillside overlooking Los Angeles.
Simon was standing in the narrow aisle formed by two long wooden bookcases that reached almost to the ceiling. He gripped his heavy leather briefcase in one hand, aware that he was an easy target for Lennox, who had moved to stand at the front of the aisle. Simon could move backward or forward but he could not dodge left or right.
They were the only two people in the big house. Lennox’s wife was visiting friends on the East Coast. The housekeeper and butler-chauffeur had been given the evening off. The realization that neither of them was present had been Simon’s first indication that he was not meant to leave the mansion alive that night.
He leaned one shoulder against a bookcase and used his free hand to push his gold-rimmed spectacles higher on his nose. “What makes you think I’m working for anyone other than myself?”
“You conned me into hiring you,” Lennox said, jaw clenching. “You wanted access to my library because you were hoping to discover certain information.”
“I wasn’t hoping to find the records of the transactions involving your embezzlement activities. It would be more accurate to say I was sure the evidence that you have been systematically defrauding your investors would be here in your library.” Simon plucked a book off the shelf. “And here it is.”
Lennox stared at the book in Simon’s hand. For a few seconds he was speechless.
“Impossible,” he finally blurted out. “How in hell did you find that one book among the hundreds in this room? Someone must have told you it was here. Who betrayed me? Was it my housekeeper? My wife? I can’t believe either of them knows anything about my business affairs. I’ve been so damned careful.”
“What you’ve been is damned careless.” Simon dropped the book into the open briefcase. “Your mistake was in murdering your business associate. You staged that fatal crash on Mulholland to get rid of Haywood because you wanted to control the whole business. But you left your prints all over that Bugatti of his.”
Lennox’s mouth fell open. “That’s impossible. There was a fire.”
“The kind of prints you left behind aren’t erased by fire.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t have time for this. It’s getting late and I’ve got a long drive ahead of me tomorrow.”
“You’re right. You don’t have much time left at all. I can guarantee that you won’t be driving anywhere tomorrow.” Lennox hesitated. “Tell me who you’re working for, damn it. Is it one of my investors?”
“My client is only concerned with the blackmail materials.” Simon patted the heavy briefcase. “I’ve got those, too. It’s the FBI that’s interested in the embezzlement and fraud side of your business. Ever since they took down Al Capone on tax evasion charges, the Bureau has had a lot of respect for financial records. The special agents are waiting in the garden, by the way. I’ll give them your very informative ledger on my way out.”
Lennox’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really think I’m going to fall for that story?”
“Why not? I used to work for one of the slickest con men in the business, and if there’s one thing I learned, it’s that the easiest person to con is another con artist.”
Lennox’s eyes tightened at the corners. “Tell me how you know that I sabotaged Haywood’s Bugatti.”
“Now, why would I give you that information if it’s the only thing that’s keeping me alive?”
“Because I will put a bullet in your guts, Mr. Cage. I’m told it takes a long time to die that way and that the process is exceedingly painful. Sooner or later you will beg me to end the agony.”