The Girl Who Knew Too Much(74)

“Looks like the private tour is over,” Willie said, glancing past Luther’s shoulder. “Here comes the boss. He’s alone. Wonder what happened to Miss Glasson?”

“Let’s assume he didn’t leave her in the prop locker.”

“Probably a safe assumption.”

Luther swiveled the bar stool around a quarter turn and saw Oliver coming toward them through the lightly crowded bar.

“It strikes me that Ward’s bad leg doesn’t seem to be bothering him as much as usual,” he said.

“I do believe you’re right,” Willie said.

Oliver was dressed, but his shirt was open at the collar and his hair looked like it had been combed with his fingers. Aside from that, he appeared in rare good spirits.

“Afternoon, Boss,” Willie said. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks,” Oliver said. He looked at Luther. “Front desk told me you were here. Let’s go back to the villa. We can talk there.”

Oliver started to turn away.

Luther stood. “Where is Miss Glasson?”

“She’s at the villa,” Oliver replied. “Said she wanted to freshen up.”

Luther glanced at Willie. Willie suddenly became very busy polishing the already glowing top of the bar.

“Heard you took Miss Glasson on a tour of those old props you’ve got stored out back,” Luther said.

Oliver’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “Word travels fast around this hotel.”

“I can understand why Miss Glasson would want to freshen up,” Luther said.

“Is that so?” Oliver said evenly.

“Those old props have been stored in that locker for quite a while now. Probably dusty from lack of use.”





Chapter 39




Irene heard Oliver and Luther arrive just as she finished running a brush through her hair. She put on some lipstick and checked her image in the mirror. She was feeling oddly cheerful and she thought she looked unusually bright and vivacious for a woman who had just engaged in hot, sweaty sex in a storage locker.

In hindsight, maybe she shouldn’t have been so cautious after the disaster with Bradley Thorpe, she thought. Life was short. Sex—at least the kind she had just enjoyed—was exhilarating. A woman had a right to grab the good things when they came around. Perhaps she should have taken advantage of the opportunities that had come her way during her year in Helen Spencer’s fairy-tale world.

But even as the thought occurred, she was quite certain that she would have wound up regretting a liaison with any of the charming, polished gentlemen she had met during the course of that year. For one thing, most of them had been jaded, bored, and utterly lacking in principles. They drank too much. They partied too hard. They were often thoughtless or downright cruel to those they considered beneath them. They lived for superficial entertainments, and they would have considered the seduction of Helen Spencer’s private secretary a form of entertainment.

But everything was different with Oliver.

She gripped the edges of the pedestal sink with both hands and studied her reflection in the mirror, searching for an explanation. Perhaps the episode in the storage locker had been so intense and so freighted with meaning because she and Oliver had endured danger together. The experience had probably created some sort of bond between them.

If that was the case, she had to accept the fact that the bond was, in all likelihood, temporary. But it was real, which was a hell of a lot more than she could say about the connection she had felt with Bradley Thorpe. Then again, Bradley had been a lying, cheating bastard.

She turned away from the mirror, let herself out into the hall, and went down the stairs. Oliver and Luther were on the patio, sitting in the shade. Both men got to their feet when they saw her.

Luther smiled at her. The smile looked genuine but there was something odd about the way he was looking at her, she thought. It was almost as if he approved of what he saw. But that made no sense. He barely knew her.

“Miss Glasson,” he said. “A pleasure to see you again.”

She smiled and sat down. “I thought we agreed that you would call me Irene.”

“We did, indeed.” Luther took his seat. His dark gaze sharpened. “Tell me what’s going on.”

“Things have gotten complicated,” Oliver said. “We need some assistance.”

“How complicated?” Luther asked.

“We think that a killer may have followed Irene here to Burning Cove.”

Luther’s brows rose. “The one who murdered Gloria Maitland and Daisy Jennings?”

“Another one,” Oliver said. “And if we’re right, he is far more dangerous.”