Raina watched Lyra for a moment. Luther was right; the plan to take Lyra’s mind off the events at the Adlington house was working—maybe a little too well. Tonight Lyra radiated a nervy, glamorous energy that struck Raina as almost feverish.
Lyra was attractive but she was certainly not the most beautiful woman in the room. The competition was always stiff at the Paradise because the nightclub drew every Hollywood star and aspiring actor and actress who happened to be in town. Nevertheless, Lyra could hold her own. She was endowed with a natural presence that would make most people—male and female—look twice. But it was her spirited enthusiasm, her curiosity, and her interest in other people that gave her that magic ingredient—charm. People were attracted to her. They wanted to talk to her. They wanted to tell her their secrets. That ability would make her an excellent investigator if she chose to remain in the profession.
Tonight Lyra was a blaze of shimmering moonlight in a silver lamé gown. The bias-cut skirt flared out around her ankles whenever she went into a turn. Her amber-brown hair was caught back behind her ears with a pair of silver clips and fell in deep waves to her shoulders. Her lipstick was the latest shade of red. The young man she was dancing with was enchanted. Maybe it was the way she looked at him—as if he were the only man in the room. Raina smiled. The next man would get the same treatment.
“I agreed to take her on as an apprentice because she was so determined to become an investigator,” Raina said. “She told me she feels she has a calling for the work.”
Luther raised his brows. “A calling? For the private investigation business?”
“Don’t laugh. I realize it’s not exactly a religious vocation, but I know what she means, and so do you.”
Luther shrugged. “A need to find answers?”
“For people who need those answers. Kirk Investigations may have to do some divorce work to pay the bills, but my goal is to attract clients who are desperate to close a hole in their lives. I think Lyra has the heart for the job, and the right instincts, too. She certainly handled herself well this afternoon.”
Luther’s mouth kicked up a little with approval. “I read about her impressive golf swing in the evening edition of the Burning Cove Herald.”
“Lyra only took one swing. It knocked him down and out, but he wasn’t necessarily dead at that point. Marcella Adlington was evidently afraid that her husband might survive. She took a few extra whacks at his head with the golf club while Lyra and the police were out of sight at the front of the house.”
“Interesting.” Luther’s brows rose. “That wasn’t mentioned in the paper.”
“Only because Lyra kept quiet about it. She knew it might have gone badly for Mrs. Adlington.”
“Juries frown on wives who murder their husbands, regardless of the justification.”
“Exactly. As it stands, Lyra was simply defending herself from a homicidal maniac.”
“And protecting her client at the same time,” Luther mused.
“Mrs. Adlington never got the opportunity to become a client of Kirk Investigations. You could say the firm took care of her problem pro bono. Not a habit I want to encourage.”
“Understandable.”
“Unfortunately, the upshot of what happened today is that Lyra will never know if she killed a man or not.”
Luther stopped smiling. “That will be hard to get past.”
“Yes, and it gets worse. It became obvious afterward that Marcella Adlington planned the whole thing.”
“Meaning?”
“She set up the appointment with Kirk Investigations knowing that her husband would fly into a rage and attack whoever showed up at the house. Marcella had a gun ready to shoot him and play the heroine. But things did not go exactly according to plan.”
“So she improvised with the golf club.”
“Yes.” Raina took another sip of her martini and lowered the glass. “I expect Lyra will have a few nightmares for a while. Cocktails, champagne, and a night of dancing won’t prevent the bad dreams.”
“No,” Luther said. “They won’t.”
He spoke with the certainty of a man who had already experimented with that particular therapy.
“I’m going to have a few nightmares, myself,” Raina said.
Luther’s eyes were shadowed with grim understanding. “Because you sent her into harm’s way.”
Raina knew he understood those kinds of nightmares, too. He had sent people into harm’s way. He had also been in deadly danger himself on more than one occasion. He had run a clandestine government intelligence agency in the Great War and for several years afterward. Now, in addition to his nightclub, which provided excellent cover, he operated a very discreet private consulting firm, Failure Analysis, Inc. It handled delicate, off-the-books investigations for a certain government agency, the FBI, and the occasional private client.
“I assumed the Adlington case was just another take-some-photos-that-will-prove-my-husband-is-cheating-so-I-will-have-grounds-for-a-divorce job,” Raina said. “I thought it would be a good way to introduce Lyra to the business. She actually knows a lot about photography, because she has frequently assisted her sister, Vivian, with her studio photography. Next time I’ll insist the potential client come into the office for the first interview.”
“Don’t set any hard-and-fast rules,” Luther advised. “In the future there may be clients who desperately need your help who can’t risk being seen in a private investigator’s office.”
Raina contemplated that for a moment. “I suppose you’re right. I told Lyra to think long and hard about whether she really wants to be a private investigator. I wonder if she will show up at the office tomorrow morning?”
“It will be her choice. She has a right to make it. Don’t try to decide her future for her.”
Raina sighed. “I’m afraid she may have based her career decision on Nancy Drew and Nick and Nora Charles. If nothing else, today’s experience will teach her not to romanticize the investigation business.”
Chapter 5
Luther left her bed shortly after three that morning. He never spent the night. They had not discussed the fact that he did not stay for breakfast. There was no need to talk about it. Raina understood. The decision had been made by mutual, albeit silent agreement.
It wasn’t about her reputation. True, she and Luther were reasonably discreet, but their relationship was hardly a secret in Burning Cove, a town that was famous as a destination for those seeking illicit trysts and liaisons. Given Luther’s notorious image and the fact that she was a woman of a certain age who was engaged in a business many viewed as slightly shady, rumors that his speedster had been parked outside her house until breakfast would not raise many eyebrows.