Security was tight but the beefy men wearing extra-large tuxes remained mostly in the shadows.
Raina took a sip of her cocktail and set the glass on the table.
“Don’t worry, Vivian,” she said. “Everything will be fine. Luther has had a lot of experience setting traps for bad guys and he assures me Nick knows what he’s doing, too. Mr. Sundridge is an investigator, after all.”
“I know.” Vivian swirled her drink in an absentminded way.
She reached under the table to touch Rex. He licked her hand as if he understood she needed reassurance. She had given up trying to shake the sense of impending disaster that had been plaguing her since Nick had left the hotel an hour ago. She would not be able to relax until it was over and Nick walked through the door of the lounge.
“It’s not as if there are only the two of them involved in this thing,” Irene pointed out. “Oliver is with them tonight, and so is Detective Brandon from the Burning Cove Police. Brandon has officers watching the road in and out of the rendezvous point. When the assassin picks up the journal, they’ll move in and grab him.”
“You make it sound so simple,” Lyra said.
“Simple plans are usually the best, according to Luther,” Raina said.
“Oliver agrees,” Irene said. “He says that even the most complicated magic trick has a fairly simple explanation. It’s all about distracting the audience with a good story.”
“Exactly,” Raina said. “Tonight the assassin is the audience. The story is that he is finally within reach of something he wants desperately.”
“The journal of poems,” Irene said.
“Right,” Raina said. “He’ll believe he’s safe because the deal was set up by an underworld figure, the Broker.”
Lyra was fascinated. “Does Mr. Pell really have underworld connections?”
Raina’s smile was difficult to interpret. “Luther is a complicated man with a complicated past. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
Something in her tone sent a tiny chill of awareness across the back of Vivian’s neck. She looked at Raina, trying to read her eyes, but the flickering candlelight made it difficult. The only thing she could be certain of was that Raina’s past was complicated, too. Everyone had secrets.
Curious, she decided to try a little careful probing.
“How long have you been here in Burning Cove?” she asked in what she hoped was a casual manner.
“Not long,” Raina said. “I used to live in New York.”
That explained the East Coast accent, Vivian thought.
“I’ve never met a female private investigator,” Lyra said. “It sounds very exciting. How do you go about getting a job like that?”
“I don’t know how other people do it,” Raina said. “But in my case I just rented an office, put out a sign, and advertised in the local phone book.”
“Do you carry a gun?” Lyra asked.
Raina was starting to look amused. “I own a gun, if that’s what you want to know. But I rarely carry it. The cases I handle are seldom dangerous. For example, I run background investigations on people this hotel and the Paradise Club are considering for employment. I do some missing persons work. I’m also trying to market my services to women who are considering marriage.”
Lyra was fascinated. “What services do you offer them?”
Irene smiled. “She means she’s available to take a close look at the past behavior of the man the client is planning to marry.”
Lyra’s eyes widened. “What a fantastic idea. I wish I’d hired you to look into my ex-fiancé’s history, Raina. I mean, I knew Hamilton had a certain reputation as a ladies’ man but I thought that was all in the past. I never dreamed he was actually cheating on me with one of my best friends.”
Vivian glanced at the rather large handbag Raina had with her. “You brought your gun with you tonight, didn’t you?”
Raina nodded, saying nothing.
“Raina had a rather nasty experience recently,” Irene said. “She and several other people were taken hostage at the Paradise Club.”
Vivian looked at Raina. “I read about that in the papers. Luckily none of the hostages was hurt.”
“Luck,” Raina said, “had nothing to do with it.”
Lyra started to ask another question but she stopped and smiled at the familiar figure making his way toward the booth.
“Look,” she said, “here comes Ripley Fleming.”
Chapter 40
The storm was a complication they could have done without, Nick thought. He was behind the wheel of the Packard, making his way along Cliff Road, a narrow, winding, two-lane strip of pavement that followed the bluffs above the ocean. The rain was coming down hard now, severely limiting visibility, even for someone with his excellent night vision.
He was alone in the sedan. Luther and the others were waiting at the old pier. The trap had been set. It remained to be seen if the killer would take the bait.
How badly do you want that journal, Mr. X? How desperately do you want to complete the commission?
The first hint of engine trouble came when he tried to accelerate out of a sharp turn. The car did not respond with its usual surge of power. The steam appeared when he went into the next curve. It wafted up from the front of the vehicle.
The engine was overheating. That should not be happening. He took very, very good care of the Packard. The radiator hose was in excellent shape.
He eased the car to the side of the road before the big eight-cylinder engine died and he sat quietly for a moment, running through possibilities and probabilities.
He left the headlights on to warn other motorists there was a vehicle parked on the edge of the pavement although it was unlikely there would be much traffic on such a stormy night.
He found the flashlight in the glove box, opened the door, and got out from behind the wheel. He left his hat behind. He was going to get drenched. There was no point ruining the fedora as well as his jacket and trousers.
He walked around to the front of the car and raised the hood. Hot steam hissed from the nearly empty radiator. He crouched and aimed the flashlight under the car. The perfectly good radiator hose had burst in at least three places. The water meant to cool the engine had drained out somewhere along Cliff Road.
He straightened and used the flashlight to check his watch. It was going to be a long walk to the pier where Luther and the cops were waiting. The deal for the journal was due to take place in an hour.
The low growl of a car engine rumbled in the distance. He looked back down the road and saw the twin beams of a pair of headlights. They flashed briefly and then disappeared when the vehicle went into a curve.