The Girl Who Knew Too Much(43)
Last night Mr. Ward was seen escorting Miss Irene Glasson to a notorious nightclub in the seaside community.
One wonders if the once-great magician knows that he is dating a member of the press who works for a small-time L.A. newspaper. Evidently Miss Glasson has been questioned in connection with the drowning death of one of Mr. Ward’s hotel guests.
Perhaps even a skilled illusionist can be deceived by cheap goods.
“Cheap goods?” Irene repeated.
“Afraid so.”
“My reputation aside, evidently Oliver Ward was right.”
“Speaking personally, I take great exception to the description of Whispers as a small-time paper,” Velma said. “Secrets didn’t even print the name of my paper.” There was a slight pause. “What do you mean, Ward was right?”
“Our date last night was supposed to be an act of misdirection. Evidently it worked.”
“How is this an example of misdirection? In case you didn’t notice, there is a strong hint that you had something to do with Maitland’s death. Guilt by association, I think it’s called—not misdirection.”
“Never mind, Boss. Look, things are happening here. I need to talk to some more people in Burning Cove. I’ve got to stay on a couple more days.”
“Bad idea.”
Irene ignored her. “I didn’t pack for an extended stay, so I’m going to drive back to L.A. today to pick up some fresh clothes. I also need to see if anything was stolen from my apartment during the burglary. I’ll stop by the office and fill you in on what’s going on here. Once I have a chance to lay it out for you, you’ll realize this story is red-hot.”
“I suppose you expect me to keep paying the tab at that inn where you’re staying in Burning Cove.”
“This is going to be the story that makes Whispers the number one newspaper in Los Angeles, Boss.”
“Or puts it out of business,” Velma said.
“This isn’t just about Tremayne,” Irene said. “It’s about Peggy, remember?”
“All right, all right, I’ll spring for another couple of days at the inn. But don’t bother writing up another story with Tremayne’s name in it unless you’ve got rock-solid proof that he’s guilty.”
“Thanks. You won’t regret it.”
“What about the dress?”
“What dress?”
“The one you were wearing in the photo,” Velma said patiently. “The one that is probably worth more than I pay you in a year.”
Irene thought about the gown hanging in the closet in her room. “I told you, it was just on loan. I’ll be returning it to the management of the Burning Cove Hotel today.”
“Too bad. It looked good on you.”
“It was just a prop.”
Chapter 18
Nick Tremayne tossed the copy of Silver Screen Secrets onto the patio table and pushed himself up out of the rattan chair.
“Ogden thinks that photo is going to solve my problems?” he asked.
“He’s quite pleased with it.” Claudia swallowed hard. “He says that today everyone in L.A. will be talking about the reclusive former illusionist who is dating a female reporter who is cheap goods, one who is now directly linked to the death of Miss Maitland. Mr. Ogden is sure that the story will nullify any damage done by the piece Miss Glasson wrote in Whispers.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Nick said.
Breakfast had been served on his private patio. He had dined alone because he was not in the mood to make conversation with anyone. Claudia did not count. He had let her stand there, briefing him on the contents of the Secrets story, while he finished his eggs Benedict. He had not bothered to offer her a cup of coffee. She could get her own coffee. She was supposed to be his assistant, after all.
He went to the edge of the patio and stood looking out over the cove. The morning fog had burned off, leaving another sparkling day—another California-perfect day in what should have been his picture-perfect life.
Everything had been on track until recently. He was on a very fast elevator, headed for the top. Sure, he still had to put up with a studio contract, but soon he would have the kind of power it took to pick and choose the roles he wanted. Hell, he’d be rich enough to buy his way out of the damned contract if that’s what he wanted to do.
But a few weeks ago the first reporter from Whispers had started nosing around in his past. After Hackett’s fatal accident, however, he’d been sure he was in the clear. Then Gloria Maitland had reappeared, threatening to go to the press, demanding money in exchange for her silence. Ogden had come through but the payoff wasn’t enough to stop Gloria. Deep down he’d known that the cash probably wouldn’t be enough to keep her quiet, Nick thought. Gloria had wanted something more—she’d wanted revenge.