The Girl Who Knew Too Much(103)

“Wait,” he said. “You have to let me in.”

“Get away from me,” Irene said. “You’re crazy.”

“No,” Henry blurted. “You gotta let me explain. I got confused.”

Claudia Picton appeared, moving away from the side of the house where she had been concealed. She had a gun in one hand and a length of iron that looked a lot like a crowbar in the other.

“Yes, I’m afraid he’s very confused,” she said. “Nuts, actually. Inside, both of you.”

Irene retreated a few steps. Henry stumbled awkwardly into the foyer. He looked bewildered.

Claudia followed him into the villa and closed the door.

Henry gave Irene a pleading look. “I tried to warn you. I told you not to bother Mr. Tremayne.”

“Where’s the guard?” Irene said. “What did you do to him?”

“Nothing.” Claudia smiled. “Henry took care of him for me, didn’t you, Henry?”

“I put him in the gardening shed,” Henry said. He looked and sounded utterly bewildered. “I had to get him out of the way. I needed to talk to you. But I didn’t understand—”

“You’re right, Henry,” Claudia said. “You don’t understand at all.”

In a lightning move Claudia raised her hand and slammed the butt of the gun against the back of Henry’s skull.

He dropped to his knees, grunting. Blood leaked from his head. Claudia struck him again. This time he collapsed, facedown.

Irene looked at Claudia. “You’ve had a lot of practice doing that, haven’t you?”

“Yes.” Rage glinted in Claudia’s eyes. “Yes, I have had some practice. And I’m going to get some more today. I knew you were going to be a problem for my star,” she said.





Chapter 62




“If you pull that trigger, someone will hear the shot,” Irene said.

“I doubt it,” Claudia said. She stepped over Henry’s unmoving body. “This villa is quite secluded. Everyone knows that Oliver Ward likes his privacy. Even if someone did hear a shot, it would probably be dismissed as a backfire. No one expects to hear gunshots in a classy place like the Burning Cove Hotel. But I didn’t come here to kill you, Irene.”

“For some reason I don’t believe you. I’m afraid you’re a rather poor actress, Claudia.”

“You think you know everything, don’t you? I just want to talk to you. Turn around. Let’s go into the living room. We’re going to have a chat like two normal people.”

Irene did not move. “As far as I can tell, there’s not much normal about you, Claudia. Lucky for you, Henry Oakes came along, right? What would you have done with the guard at the front door?”

“He wouldn’t have been a problem. I would have handled him the same way I did Henry Oakes.”

Out of nowhere, Irene remembered the advice that Oliver had given to the carful of young people who came across them at the secluded beach. Never turn your back on the ocean. It will take you by surprise every time.

Claudia was like the wild surf at the foot of the cliffs, she thought, filled with treacherous currents. Her victims had all been struck from behind. Perhaps she had a problem with looking them in the eye. Or maybe she simply couldn’t come up with another way to commit murder. According to Oliver, most tricks were simple enough. The hard part was figuring out a new way to create the same illusion.

Cautiously, Irene retreated backward into the living room, never turning her back to Claudia.

“I said, turn around,” Claudia said.

“We both know I can’t do that,” Irene said, gentling her tone. “Not until you tell me what you came here to say. You want me to know your side of the story, don’t you?”

She halted next to Oliver’s big, thickly cushioned reading chair, vaguely surprised to realize that she was still clutching her handbag.

Claudia stopped at the edge of the living room, several feet away.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” she said. “I came here to explain things before anyone else gets hurt.”

“I see. How many people, exactly, have been hurt so far?”

Seething anger flashed in Claudia’s eyes, burning away all traces of nervy anxiety. She drew visible strength from the maelstrom.

“I didn’t have any choice,” she said.

Oliver had also mentioned the virtues of misdirection, Irene thought. She had to find a way to keep Claudia talking.

“I assume that not all the films you and your friends made in Seattle were destroyed in the fire at that little movie studio,” she said.

“Betty told us that they were all gone but she lied. She saved the two that Nick made, Island Nights and Pirate’s Captive.”