Lyra’s eyes lost their sparkle. “You think the motive is somehow connected to Viv’s photography.”
“Yes,” Nick said. “I do. It’s felt that way right from the start.”
“I just can’t see any way there could be a connection,” Vivian said, “not now that the Dagger Killer is dead. He was the only one who had a reason to murder me.”
She stopped talking because a familiar figure was approaching the table.
“Forgive me for interrupting,” Ripley Fleming said. He smiled at Vivian. “I thought I recognized you in the lobby of the Burning Cove Hotel this afternoon. We met briefly a few weeks ago. You may not remember me.”
He must have known that he was not the kind of man a woman would forget, Vivian thought, but the humility was charming. She smiled.
“Of course I remember you, Mr. Fleming,” she said.
“I’m afraid I did not catch your name at the time,” Ripley said.
“Vivian—” She stopped because Nick was giving her foot a less than subtle nudge under the table.
“I see you know my wife,” he said smoothly. “The name’s Sundridge, by the way. Mrs. Vivian Sundridge. I’m Nick Sundridge.”
He got to his feet and shook hands with an easy manner, as if he was accustomed to making the acquaintance of famous film stars. But Vivian got a shiver of awareness across the back of her neck. She glanced at him. In the flickering candlelight his expression was cool, controlled, polite. But she was certain he viewed Ripley with deep suspicion.
“A pleasure,” Ripley said, evidently unaware he was being assessed, analyzed, and cataloged as a potential threat.
“Mr. Fleming, allow me to introduce my sister, Lyra Brazier,” Vivian said.
Lyra was glowing with excitement. She extended one gloved hand.
“I’m thrilled to meet you, Mr. Fleming,” she said. “I’m a fan. You were absolutely amazing in Shock.”
Ripley smiled. “Thank you, Miss Brazier. Please call me Ripley.”
Lyra was beyond glowing now. Vivian could have sworn she was sparkling.
“And you must call me Lyra,” Lyra said.
Ripley did not release her hand and Lyra showed no great urgency to retrieve it.
“Would you care to dance?” he said.
“Love to,” Lyra said.
She was out of the booth and on her feet in seconds. Ripley took her arm but he paused long enough to smile at Vivian.
“You did me a great favor, Mrs. Sundridge. I wanted you to know that I haven’t forgotten and that I meant what I said at the time. I’m in your debt.”
“There is no debt, so please don’t worry about it,” Vivian said. “And you must call me Vivian.”
“Thank you, Vivian,” he said.
He swept Lyra down a carpeted aisle to the dance floor.
“Don’t say it,” Vivian said.
Nick did not take his eyes off Ripley and Lyra. “Don’t say what?”
“Don’t say something along the lines of what are the odds the famous actor whose reputation I protected when I declined to photograph him at the scene of the Carstairs murder would make it a point to stop at this table tonight.”
“That’s a rather long and convoluted sentence so I won’t say it. I’ll shorten it. What are the odds?”
“Probably not all that bad when you think about it,” Vivian said. “Burning Cove is an obvious destination for an actor of Fleming’s stature.”
“He’s staying at the same hotel.”
“So? He’s Hollywood royalty. The Burning Cove Hotel is where people like Fleming stay when they’re in town.”
“Any way you slice this it comes up looking a lot like a very striking coincidence.”
“There are such things as coincidence, you know.”
“Not when we’re in the process of trying to catch a killer—” Nick broke off because a waiter was approaching the booth.
“A message from Mr. Pell.” The waiter put a small envelope down on the table.
“Thank you,” Nick said. He opened the envelope. There was a card inside.
“Is something wrong?” Vivian asked.
“No,” Nick said. He slipped the envelope inside his jacket. “It looks like something has finally gone right for a change. Pell is upstairs in his private quarters. He just got a call from the Broker. The individual who wants to buy the journal has agreed to our arrangements. The transaction takes place tomorrow night.”
Vivian tensed. “I know you and Luther believe you have things under control but there is no such thing as a foolproof plan.”
Nick smiled. “Careful. You’re starting to sound like me. Always looking for all the possible ways things can go wrong.”
“Maybe your pessimistic view of the world has started to rub off on me.”
“There’s a fix for that.”
“What?”
“Why do you think they invented dancing?”
Nick got to his feet and reached out to take her hand.
When they walked onto the dance floor he took her into his arms.
“You’re right,” she whispered. “Dancing is an excellent remedy for dark thoughts.”
His warm palm slid down the bare skin of her back.
“I can think of something that works even better,” he said.
He said the words very softly in his midnight voice. A thrilling shiver of anticipation electrified Vivian’s senses.
Probably the wrong time but definitely the right man.
Chapter 35
I can hardly believe it,” Lyra said. “My first night in Burning Cove and I danced with a famous movie star at the hottest nightclub in town. And then I danced with lots of other men. This is the best night of my entire life. No wonder you left home, Viv. Partying in Burning Cove is so much more fun than going to all those boring society affairs back in San Francisco.”
Vivian smiled ruefully. “I think you’ve had a few too many pink ladies.”
It was shortly after two in the morning. She and Nick and Lyra were standing outside Lyra’s room at the Burning Cove Hotel.
“Who cares?” Lyra did a giddy pirouette in the hallway, her skirts swirling around her ankles. “I’ll tell you one thing. I am never, ever going back to San Francisco.”