The Girl Who Knew Too Much(39)

But he could not think of any way to stop her.

“What do you mean?” she asked.

Luther swallowed some of his martini and assumed a thoughtful air. “He’d need a car.”

Irene frowned. “He has one. I checked. He drove his own vehicle here to Burning Cove.”

“Tremayne left his car with the valet attendants,” Luther said. “He did not ask to have his vehicle brought around until after three in the morning.”

“He could have had another car waiting in a side street,” Irene said quickly.

“True,” Luther conceded. “But even if you are correct, you’re forgetting the lady, the one who came in from the garden with him looking as if she had been enjoying a romantic interlude.”

“I need to talk to her,” Irene said. “You must know her name and where I can find her.”

“Daisy Jennings,” Luther said. “And before you ask, she’s a regular. Likes to rub shoulders with the Hollywood crowd. She’s a stunner, and both men and women enjoy her company. I have no objection to her as a customer. But if you’re right about Tremayne’s activities last night, it means that he persuaded Daisy to help him with his story. If that’s the case, you can bet that she’ll tell you exactly what Tremayne and his studio want her to tell you.”

“You mean they’ll pay her to lie to me.”

“Or they’ll threaten her,” Oliver said evenly. “Or Tremayne will make it clear that she will no longer be allowed inside his circle of party friends if she doesn’t cooperate. One way or another, I doubt that you’ll get the truth from her.”

Luther looked thoughtful. “I would remind both of you that Tremayne’s story might be the truth. Maybe he really was out in the garden with Daisy Jennings during that forty-five-minute window of time. Regardless, Oliver’s right, Miss Glasson. You’ll only get the story that Tremayne and his studio want you to hear.”

Irene contemplated the view of the gardens. “There might be another way to find out if Tremayne left this place last night. If he parked another car on a side street, someone might have noticed it. After all, he would have had to park it again near the hotel before he went into the spa, then get back into it and return here. And that begs the question, whose car did he borrow? Daisy Jennings’s, perhaps?”

Luther looked at Oliver. “Does she ever give up?”

“Not that I’ve noticed,” Oliver said.

“That could be a problem,” Luther said. “For her future well-being.”

“You’re welcome to try to explain that to her,” Oliver said. “I tried. Didn’t get very far.”

Irene snapped her notebook closed. “If the two of you continue to talk about me as if I weren’t here, I’ll leave and find my own way back.”

“My apologies,” Luther said.

Blake loomed in the doorway. “Dinner is served.”

Luther smiled. “Your timing is excellent, Blake.”

“We need a good distraction,” Oliver said. “Dinner will work.”

He took Irene’s arm. On the way into the formal dining room, she took one last look at Pell’s seascapes.

“These are your paintings, Luther?” she asked.

“Yes,” he said.

“They are . . . interesting.”

Luther chuckled. “In other words, you wouldn’t want them hanging in your home.”

“I can’t say for sure,” Irene said. “I don’t have a home. Just an apartment in L.A.”





Chapter 16




Oliver eased the car into a space at the curb in front of the Cove Inn. The guest rooms in the small establishment were all darkened, but a porch light glowed weakly over the front door.

“Looks like Mrs. Fordyce decided not to wait up for you,” he said.

“She gave me a key to the front door,” Irene said. “Told me to let myself in.”

Oliver thought about the lonely bed waiting for him, and then he thought about how he had grown accustomed to sleeping alone. Most nights it didn’t bother him. But tonight would be different. Tonight when he went to bed, he was going to be thinking about Irene. He had a hunch he would lie awake for a long time.

He took his time climbing out from behind the wheel. The fog had rolled in across the waters of the cove, but he could see the lights of the marina and the old fishing pier.

He wondered what Irene would say if he suggested a stroll on the pier before she went back to her room at the inn.

What the hell. The worst that could happen was she would say no.

He rounded the front of the car and opened the passenger side door. This time when he reached down to help her, Irene didn’t resist. Her fingers were warm and delicate, but there was strength in the light, firm way she grasped his hand.