Nick smiled at Lyra. “I thought we might show your sister the nightlife scene here in Burning Cove. We’re going to the Paradise Club tonight.”
“Wonderful,” Lyra said. “Do you think there will be some movie stars in the crowd?”
“Possibly,” Nick said.
Vivian drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair while she mentally cataloged what remained of her very small wardrobe. “I did a little shopping when we arrived in Burning Cove but I just picked up the essentials. I certainly didn’t see any need to purchase an evening gown and all the accessories.”
“Don’t worry,” Lyra said. “I realized you must have lost most of your clothes in the fire so I brought several things from your closet with me. Just the items that are still in fashion, of course.”
Vivian stared at her, nonplussed. “That was very thoughtful of you.”
“Why do you think I arrived with so many suitcases?” Lyra said.
Nick smiled appreciatively. “Clearly the Brazier women are not only dangerous, they are very smart.”
Vivian shot him what she hoped was a stern look. “I think it’s time we told Lyra exactly why we’re holed up here at the Burning Cove.”
“Right,” Nick said. The amusement warming his eyes vanished as swiftly as it had come. “We should probably do that. One question first, though. Lyra, did you tell anyone that Vivian was staying here at the Burning Cove?”
Lyra’s brows rose. “Yes, as a matter of fact. One of her freelance photographer friends telephoned me to see if I knew where she was.”
“Toby Flint?” Vivian asked.
“Yes,” Lyra said. “He said it was important he get in touch with you right away. Something about teaming up with you to do a special photographic essay for Life. It sounded like a wonderful opportunity. Why? Is there a problem?”
“I’m afraid so,” Vivian said. “A big problem.”
Lyra got a knowing expression. “I was sure there was more going on here than the obvious.”
“The obvious?” Vivian asked.
“The two of you running off to Burning Cove to see if you could cure Mr. Sundridge’s little impotence prob—” Lyra stopped herself mid-word. She cleared her throat. “Never mind. Explain.”
Chapter 34
I’ve been in some very exclusive nightclubs in San Francisco,” Lyra announced, “but none were as much fun as this one. The Paradise looks like a movie set. I can picture Claudette Colbert or Clark Gable or Greta Garbo walking down that red carpet to one of those star tables at the edge of the dance floor.”
Vivian picked up her cocktail glass and surveyed the glamorous room. “You’re right. The Paradise looks as if it was designed by a decorator who set out to create a Hollywood fantasy version of a nightclub.”
She and Lyra and Nick occupied a booth that had a clear view of the orchestra and the dance floor. It was almost eleven o’clock but the night was young as far as the crowd was concerned. The orchestra was playing a slow, sultry piece while women in shimmering beaded gowns floated on the arms of men dressed in elegant evening jackets. The dance floor was illuminated in an endless cascade of sparkling lights from the mirror ball overhead.
The only member of the group who wasn’t present to enjoy the show was Rex. He had been left at the villa. No killer would take the risk of trying to break in to set a trap with the dog on guard.
Vivian took a tiny sip of her sidecar. Thanks to Lyra’s foresightedness, she was wearing a sleek gown of garnet-red satin. She had purchased it shortly before leaving home. It had been left behind in San Francisco along with the other clothes she had not expected to wear in her new life.
Now, bathed in the romantic glow of candlelight, she decided it was perfect for an evening at the Paradise with Nick. The lustrous fabric had been cut on the bias so that it clung lightly to her body and flared out below the hips. The front was styled with a high, deceptively demure neckline. Fluttery sleeves revealed her arms. The back plunged to the waist. Black fishnet gloves veiled her hands.
Lyra looked even more at home in the club. Her natural flair for style lent her an aura of glamour that would have suited a star. Her bronze satin gown was cut to display her excellent figure to full advantage. Matching elbow-length gloves and a gossamer wrap finished the look.
“Stick around and you will probably see a few stars,” Nick said. “If they’re in town, they’ll show up here sooner or later.”
“Burning Cove is so much more exciting than San Francisco,” Lyra said. She picked up her pink lady. “We should have visited Burning Cove months ago, Viv. Look what we’ve been missing.”
“Under other circumstances I would probably enjoy it more,” Vivian said.
Lyra’s glow faded into genuine concern. “I still can’t believe someone wants you dead, and before you say anything, Nick, I agree with Vivian. Hamilton is a lying, cheating rat but I can’t imagine him sinking so low that he would actually hire someone to murder Viv. For one thing, I doubt that he would even know how to locate a paid assassin.”
“Good point,” Vivian said. “We’ve been wondering about that aspect of things. It’s not as if murder-for-hire businesses advertise in the phone book.”
“No,” Nick said. He picked up his glass and gently swirled the whiskey so that it caught the light of the candle flame. “The problem raises some interesting questions but not the most important one.”
“Which is?” Lyra said.
“Motive,” Nick said. “You and Vivian seem to be convinced that Merrick is innocent. I agree that if he is guilty he would be an anomaly.”
“Why?” Vivian asked.
“Judging by what my uncle has managed to decipher so far, all of the killer’s commissions in the past couple of years appear to have originated in the Los Angeles area. Before that he was murdering people in New York. There’s no indication any of his clients or his victims lived in San Francisco. The assassin evidently prefers to work on territory he knows well.”
“I am no longer a fan of Hamilton Merrick but I think I can give you one more reason why he wouldn’t take the risk of hiring someone to murder me,” Vivian said. “He simply isn’t that ambitious.”
Lyra had been about to take another sip of her pink lady. She paused. “You’re right, Viv. Hamilton was born to attend parties and sail his yacht. He has no real interest in business. He isn’t obsessed with making money because he knows he’s going to inherit plenty of it.”
“If you’re both right,” Nick said, “if money is not the motive, then we are left with only one other likely possibility.”