Chapter 38
They got a couple of hours of sleep before room service delivered breakfast. They ate the grapefruit, eggs, and toast at the small table on the patio. Rex wolfed down the steak and eggs the kitchen had sent to the villa in a large bowl.
Nick discovered that he was ravenous. It was not an unusual state of affairs. He was always hungry when he started making progress on a case.
Vivian picked up the silver pot and poured two cups of coffee. Nick polished off the last slice of toast, sat back, and picked up his notebook.
“All right, here’s what we’ve got,” he said. “Our list of suspects includes Hamilton Merrick, Lyra’s fiancé. His motive is the Brazier family fortune.”
“Hamilton no longer has a motive,” Vivian pointed out. “He’s now an ex-fiancé.”
Nick looked up from his notes. “That doesn’t mean he can or will call off the assassin. He may think he can convince Lyra to forgive him. Or he may simply want revenge now. It’s also quite possible that he has no way to contact the killer to stop the process.”
“Okay, he stays on your list but I still can’t imagine him commissioning a murder.”
“In that same category, we also have Winston Bancroft. Motive: revenge.” Nick tapped the pencil against the notebook. “They say that revenge is a dish that is best served cold but the truth is, people usually prefer to serve it blazing hot.”
“I think Winston would go the blazing-hot route. I told you, he’s inclined toward heavy drama. I can’t see him waiting this long to exact revenge. What’s more, if you think about it, he’s already been avenged. He’s the one who has work hanging in prestigious galleries, not me.”
“If you’re reading him right—”
“Pretty sure I am.”
“It means he goes to the bottom of the list.” Nick put a check mark beside Bancroft’s name. “I will also admit I’m inclined to agree with you about Hamilton Merrick. Not because he isn’t the type to hire a killer but because it would have made more sense for him to wait until he was safely married to Lyra before he got rid of you.”
“And why would he take the risk of having an affair with one of Lyra’s friends before the wedding? He had to know that if Lyra found out she would end the engagement. In fact, given what I know about Hamilton, I wouldn’t be surprised if he unconsciously wanted to be discovered in bed with Lyra’s friend. It got him out of a marriage he probably does not want.”
Nick studied his notes again. “People rarely use a lot of logic or common sense when they indulge in an affair.”
There was an acute silence from the other side of the table. Nick looked up. Vivian was very busy feeding bacon to Rex under the table. It occurred to him she was probably thinking about their own newly minted affair and the possibility that logic and common sense had not been involved.
“I’m not an expert on this sort of thing but it sounds like you’ve just ruled out our two prime client suspects,” she said. “What about Ripley Fleming?”
“I can’t see him as a client,” Nick said. “There’s no connection between the two of you. But he makes a very good assassin. Perfect cover. Perfect camouflage. Talented actor. We know he showed up at the scene of the Carstairs murder and now he’s here in Burning Cove.”
Vivian shook her head. “The thing is, he seems genuinely grateful to me for not taking his photo that night.”
“If he is the killer, he had every reason to be grateful. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t plan to kill you.”
“We know he didn’t leave the hotel grounds the other night, so he couldn’t have murdered Toby Flint.”
“I’m not so sure he didn’t leave. According to Oliver Ward there were plenty of sightings of Fleming throughout the evening but it’s impossible to know where someone is every single minute. If Fleming is our man in the work clothes and cap, he could have used that disguise long enough to slip out of the hotel through a service entrance, murder Flint, and then return to the bar.”
“Still, he seems so nice.”
Nick raised his brows. “You’d be amazed how often people say exactly that after a killer is arrested.”
Vivian made a face.
“There is, however, one other possibility,” Nick continued. “An unknown figure. We’ll call him Mr. X for now.”
“We don’t know anything about him.”
“You’re wrong. We know a lot about him because of the timeline. Morris Deverell, the Dagger Killer, attacked you about a month ago because he realized you were the one who told the cops the killer was probably a photographer working in the pictorial tradition.”
“That turned out to be the truth. Remember, the police found an expensive camera and a collection of daggers in Deverell’s house.”
“And then he was mysteriously run down by a car immediately after he escaped from the hospital.” Nick paused. “Before he could talk to the cops.”
Vivian went very still. “You’re convinced someone murdered him after he escaped from the hospital, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Probably the same someone who helped him escape. Now Toby Flint is dead by the same means. There has to be a connection.”
“Mr. X murdered both of them. Motive?”
“Both men knew too much. Mr. X has the answers we need. With a little luck he’ll walk into the trap that Luther and I have set for tonight.”
Vivian’s brows rose. “Since when do you believe in luck?”
“Since I met you.”
She smiled a dazzling smile. “It’s so nice to know I am contributing to this investigation.”
“I wouldn’t be this far along without you.”
“Do we have any special plans for today?”
“No. Today is all about waiting and looking as if we aren’t the least bit concerned that a killer is watching you.”
“In that case, is there any reason why I can’t use Joan Ashwood’s darkroom to develop a couple of prints for her to hang in her gallery?”
Nick thought about it. “No, not as long as Lyra and I accompany you. I don’t want you to be alone today.”
Chapter 39
The storm struck in full fury shortly before midnight. Vivian was sitting in a booth in the Burning Cove Hotel’s elegant bar. She was not alone. Lyra was with her. So were Raina Kirk and Irene Ward. Rex was under the table, enjoying occasional pats from the women.
The glamorously shadowed lounge was packed because most of the hotel guests who otherwise might have chosen to spend the evening at one of the local nightclubs had decided to stay on the grounds. It was not as if the hotel did not offer plenty of first-class entertainment. A jazz trio was playing on the small stage and the cocktails were served up by skilled bartenders who put on a show every time they crafted a drink.