“You’ve got a story featuring Nick Tremayne and a deranged female killer? Why aren’t you taking this to your paper, Whispers?”
“Because I was fired.”
“Oh, yeah. Heard about that.”
“Don’t worry, Whispers will have the story along with every other paper in L.A. for their morning editions. Nick Tremayne’s studio will make sure of it. But I’m offering you an exclusive today. You can run with it in your evening edition tonight.”
“We don’t have an evening edition.”
“Make it a special edition. All I ask is that I get a byline.”
“And a job?”
“Read the story, Mr. Paisley.” She put the typewritten pages on the desk. “I’ve got quotes from Nick Tremayne, himself, not to mention Oliver Ward and Luther Pell.”
“Ward and Pell never grant interviews.”
“They made an exception for me. Go ahead, read the story, and then tell me you’ll print it.”
Chapter 64
“Why aren’t I dead?” Irene asked. “Claudia had a gun. She got off two shots. I should be dead.”
The four of them were on the patio of Oliver’s villa—Oliver, Chester, Luther, and herself. Oliver kept casting worried glances in her direction, so she did her best to look like the coolheaded journalist who had just concluded a successful investigation.
It was Luther who answered her question. His eyes were bleak with a dark knowledge, and there was an oddly remote quality in his voice.
“It’s true that Picton had a gun, but it’s surprisingly difficult to hit someone who is charging straight at you,” he said. “Especially when your attacker is armed with a lethal weapon like a poker. In addition to the problem of aiming at a moving target, there is the added psychological factor. Your first instinct is to dodge the sharp object that is aimed at you.”
Irene looked at him. They all did. No one commented, but she knew they were all thinking the same thing. Luther was not speaking theoretically. He was remembering scenes from nightmares. He wasn’t thinking about pokers; he was thinking about fixed bayonets.
It was Oliver who broke the short silence that followed the observation.
“Luther’s right,” he said. “By charging Picton with that poker, you took an enormous risk but you also presented the ultimate distraction. She panicked.”
“What made you realize that Claudia had come after me?” Irene said.
Her nerves were still on edge and she knew she would not sleep well that night. She might not sleep well for a long time to come. She would never be able to forget the feral expression in Claudia’s eyes.
“I didn’t,” Oliver said. “Not until I opened the door and saw you standing over Claudia with that poker in your hand. The reason I went back to the villa was because someone in housekeeping spotted an unknown workman matching Oakes’s description on the grounds.”
Irene smiled. “You did say housekeeping was the front line of security here at the hotel. No one pays any attention to the maids.”
Luther leaned back in his chair. He contemplated Irene. “Any idea what it was that made Claudia Picton choose today to attack you? She must have been desperate to take such a risk right here on the grounds of the hotel.”
“She felt she had to act,” Irene said. “She had just gotten a warning, you see. I made some telephone calls to Seattle this morning. One of them was to Phyllis Kemp, the landlady in Seattle. Peggy Hackett made the same phone call. I’m sure it was that call that led to her murder. Calling Kemp almost got me killed today. It was the second time I’d called, you see.”
Chester’s brows scrunched together. “Kemp called Claudia Picton and told her that you had just telephoned asking about Betty Scott?”
“Yes. The news clearly terrified Claudia,” Irene said. “She panicked because she knew I was closing in on the story. She probably assumed the odds were very good that Oliver wouldn’t be home during the day. He’s an executive, after all. He was likely to be in his office. She took a chance and came to the villa, hoping to find me alone. She ran into Henry Oakes, who was watching me because he believed I was a threat to Nick Tremayne.”
“So much for my ability to read a member of the audience,” Oliver said. “I knew Claudia Picton was a nervous, overanxious woman. I assumed that she wanted to protect her job, but I’ve got to admit it never occurred to me she would risk her life or a murder rap to do so.”
Chester shook his head. “It was the money. Reckon all Picton could see were the millions of dollars that she would someday collect.”