Velma waved that off with an impatient gesture.
“Sit down,” she snapped.
To Oliver’s surprise, Irene sank reluctantly into a wooden chair. She clutched her precious handbag on her lap and fixed Velma with a wary, narrow-eyed gaze.
Velma turned her attention back to Oliver.
“What’s your relationship to Irene, Mr. Ward?”
“We’re partners,” Irene said. “He was with me last night when we found another body and two goons tried to torch a warehouse with us inside.”
Velma did not take her eyes off Oliver. “Well, Ward? What do you have to say for yourself?”
“You heard her,” Oliver said. “We’re partners.” He walked into the room, closed the door, and sat down. “Are you going to explain why the situation here is more complicated than it appears?”
“Yep, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” Velma leaned back. Her chair squeaked in protest. “Can you protect Irene?”
“My security people are good,” he said. “And Luther Pell is a friend of mine. He has offered his assistance if needed.”
Irene’s head snapped around. Her eyes widened.
“You didn’t tell me that,” she said.
He waved that off. “There wasn’t any reason to until now. I thought it might make you uneasy.”
Velma got a knowing look. “That would be the same Luther Pell who owns the Paradise Club and some casinos?”
“Yes,” Oliver said. “That Luther Pell.”
“In other words, you’ve got access to some serious muscle.”
“Yes,” Oliver said again.
Irene looked at Velma and then at Oliver and back again. “Where are you going with this conversation, Velma?”
“Here’s the deal,” Velma said. She sat forward and lowered her voice. “This morning I got another call from Ernie Ogden at Tremayne’s studio. I was given a second warning. This time things got a lot more serious. It was strongly implied that Whispers would be out of business within a week if I didn’t get rid of the reporter who was causing trouble for Tremayne. So, naturally, I assured Mr. Ogden that I would fire Irene Glasson. And that’s what I’ve done. I even instructed Alice in bookkeeping to cut one last check with a week’s extra pay. It’s waiting for you at the reception desk.”
Irene groaned. “I’m sorry, Velma. I didn’t mean to put Whispers at risk. I thought I could prove Tremayne murdered Peggy and it would be a huge scoop for the paper.”
“I agreed to let you run with the story because of Peggy. I do not take kindly to having my employees murdered. But I am now in the position of having to protect the rest of the staff and this business.”
“I understand,” Irene said. She got to her feet. “Let’s go, Oliver.”
“Hang on for one damn minute,” Velma said.
“Why?” Irene asked.
“This doesn’t have to be the end of the line. You can work freelance. If you do get proof that Tremayne murdered Peggy or anyone else and if Tremayne is arrested, I’ll buy the story from you.”
“I’ll think about it,” Irene said. “But keep in mind that I might get a better offer from some other paper.”
She headed for the door. Oliver followed her out into the hall.
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
“Get the story.”
He nodded, satisfied. “I had a feeling you were going to say that.”
The receptionist looked up as they approached her desk. She gave Irene a sympathetic smile and handed her an envelope.
“Sorry about what just happened,” she said softly.
“Thanks,” Irene said.
“Did your cousin get ahold of you?”
Irene stopped, turning sharply. “What cousin?”
“A man telephoned for you yesterday. Sounded like he was from back east. Real classy accent. Said he was your cousin or something and that he was in town on business for a few days. He wanted to see about getting together with you. I gave him your address and phone number. Warned him that you were out of town, though.”
“Thanks,” Irene said. She looked at Oliver. There was shock and confusion in her eyes. “The studio? Trying to find out where I live?”
“Probably,” he said. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 31
The first clue that she had other problems in addition to getting fired came when she inserted her key into the lock on her apartment door.
Nothing happened.
“Wrong key?” Oliver suggested.
Irene looked at the key she was holding. “No, this is the right one.”
They were standing in the hall outside her apartment. She was very conscious of the general gloom that seemed to infuse the slightly shabby, two-story building. The contrast between it and the warm, gracious architecture of the Burning Cove Hotel was impossible to ignore.