The Girl Who Knew Too Much(81)

“Meat loaf?”

“It’s always meat loaf at dinner, according to the waitress. Always two fried eggs in the morning. Oakes appears to be a creature of habit. The waitress said he was very precise about how he wanted his eggs and the sandwich. She also says he’s creepy.”

“Irene mentioned that. What does he do at night?”

“Well, that’s where things get a little interesting. Parker, the guy who handles security at the Carousel Club, told me that he spotted Oakes outside the club the same night that Tremayne spent a couple of hours there.”

“That was the night that Gloria Maitland drowned in the spa.”

“Yeah. Parker said he noticed Oakes standing in the shadows, watching the front door of the club. Parker thought he might be a chauffeur or a bodyguard. But when Parker asked him who he was waiting for, Oakes just walked away. Hasn’t shown up again, at least as far as Parker knows.”

“Anything else?”

“Nothing solid. We’ve seen the type before, Boss. Every month or so we catch some screwy fan trying to sneak onto the property.”

“Tell everyone on the staff—I mean everyone : housekeepers, kitchen crew, gardeners, as well as your people—to watch for Henry Oakes. If he shows up, I want to know immediately.”

“Want me to have a little talk with Oakes?” Tom raised his brows. “I could strongly advise him to leave town. I can make sure he’s on the late-afternoon train to L.A.”

“If we send him back to L.A., we’ll lose track of him. I think we’re better off knowing where he is. Like I said, if he shows up on the property, I want to know about it.”

“I’ll get the word out.”





Chapter 45




Willie liked polishing martini glasses and suspending them by their stems in the overhead rack. She found the chore soothing, a form of meditation. She was engaged in the practice when Irene walked into the lounge looking like a woman who needed a confidante.

Willie recognized the expression. When you worked behind a bar, you saw it a lot.

It was going on ten o’clock in the morning and there were no guests in the bar yet. That was not unusual. Some of the early risers were playing either golf or tennis. Several were working off the effects of the previous night’s partying with a massage and a stint in the spa’s steam room. A few were sleeping late—not necessarily with their own spouses. She had already sent several orders of her signature eye-opener, Red Sally—a cocktail involving tomato juice, vodka, and a lot of salt and hot sauce—to people who had ordered room service.

Irene hitched up her trousers, plunked herself down on a bar stool, and folded her arms on the polished wooden surface.

So this is the boss’s new lady friend, Willie thought.

She was as curious about Irene as everyone else on the staff.

“You must be Miss Glasson,” she said. “Welcome to the Burning Cove Hotel. I’m Willie, by the way.”

Irene had walked in with the look of a woman who was lost in her own thoughts, but at the greeting she immediately refocused her attention and smiled.

The smile was real, Willie decided. She saw all kinds. She was pretty good at separating the false ones from the genuine article. All that experience as a magician’s assistant had served her well in her new career.

“You worked with Oliver in his show, didn’t you?” Irene said.

“Oliver told you about me?”

“A little, not much. He mentioned that several of the people employed here at the Burning Cove, including you, had worked with him in the Amazing Oliver Ward Show.”

“That’s right,” Willie said. “After the show closed, Mr. Ward could have let all of us go. Instead, he used every last dime he had to buy this hotel. He couldn’t afford to pay us back at the start, but we had room and board so we stuck around. The place started turning a profit last year. The pay is good, so we’re all still here. What can I get you?”

“Do you serve coffee in here?”

“I do.”

“In that case, I’ll have some, thank you.”

Willie set a cup and saucer on the bar, picked up a pot, and poured the coffee.

“I see the boss let you out on your own this morning,” she said. “Does that mean he thinks your problem has been resolved?”

Irene drummed her fingers on the counter. “I suppose everyone on the staff knows that Oliver thinks I need round-the-clock security.”

“Sure. We also know that you helped get him out of that burning warehouse the other night.”

Irene sipped some coffee. “As I keep pointing out to people, it was my fault that he was in that warehouse in the first place.”