The Girl Who Knew Too Much(82)
Willie picked up another glass and started polishing it. “The boss makes his own rules. If he was there with you, it was because he wanted to be there.”
“That’s more or less what he told me.”
“It’s the truth. We all know he’s worried about your safety. He’s always had good security here at the hotel, but during the past few days he’s given orders to double down on the routine patrols, and he’s cranked up the lighting at night. The grounds are lit up like a stage at three in the morning now. That said, you seem to be running free today.”
Irene wrinkled her nose. “For a while. He’s handling some business in his office. I didn’t want to sit there, staring at him or reading a magazine while he made telephone calls and did whatever hotel executives do. He figured I’d be safe here in the bar.”
“He’s right. We’ve got good security in here, too. There’s a button I can push if I don’t like what’s going on. One of the guards would be here in a minute or two at the most.”
“That’s good to know.” Irene patted her handbag. “I’m not helpless. I’ve got a gun.”
“So do I,” Willie said. She held the martini glass up to the light to check her work. “I keep it under the bar.”
Interest and curiosity sparked in Irene’s eyes. “Really?”
“Old habit from the days when we were on the road. Some towns were rougher than others. Every so often some jerk decided to rob the ticket office or hassle one of the assistants.”
“You, for instance?”
Willie gave her a humorless smile. “Me, for instance.”
“Does Oliver know about the gun under the bar?”
“Yes.”
“He told me he doesn’t like guns.”
“What do you expect? He almost got killed by one.”
“He says guns give people a false sense of security. He says you never know when one will jam on you.”
“Sounds like the two of you had an extensive conversation on the subject.”
“Uh-huh.” Irene drank some more coffee and put the cup down with great care. “Once, in another life, I had an employer who owned a gun. But in the end it didn’t do her any good. She was murdered by some bastard who used a knife.”
“What happened?”
“She made the mistake of trusting the wrong person.”
“Trust is a dangerous thing.”
“Yes, it is,” Irene said. “But you get very lonely if you don’t have someone you can trust.”
“You can trust the boss.”
Irene smiled. “He obviously trusts you.”
“We go back a ways.”
Irene turned thoughtful. “He says you can read people as well as he can.”
“Bartenders in general are good at reading people. You could say it’s a job requirement.”
Irene met her eyes. “You probably know that I’m suspicious of Nick Tremayne.”
“Everyone who reads the newspapers knows that.”
“Care to give me your take on him?”
Willie chuckled. “Funny you should ask.”
“Why?”
“Because the boss asked the same question the morning your story broke in Whispers. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him. I think Nick Tremayne is very, very ambitious. I also think he’s got a temper.”
“Ever seen him lose it?”
“No. But the other day I happened to see that personal assistant of his after she came out of his villa. She looked shaken. Downright scared, I think.”
“Claudia Picton? I think she’s terrified of losing her job.” Irene took a sip and set her cup down on the saucer with a clink. “My intuition tells me she’s the weak link in this thing. I need to speak with her again. That means I have to get her alone.”
“The boss might not approve.”
“I’ve seen enough of Claudia Picton to know that she’ll never open up if Oliver is with me. He’ll intimidate her.”
“You’re probably right. It’s obvious that Miss Picton’s nerves are in bad shape. Wouldn’t take much to send her into a complete panic.”
“What else do you know about her?” Irene asked.
“Not a lot. She doesn’t come into my bar.”
“Maybe she doesn’t drink.”
“Either that or the studio won’t cover her bar tab,” Willie said.
“I didn’t see her in the restaurant last night but I guess that’s no surprise. Most women don’t like to be seen dining alone.”
“Maybe she went out to a local café,” Willie suggested.
“Who would know?”
Willie smiled. “The concierge, Mr. Fontaine. When it comes to the habits and preferences of the guests, a good concierge is better than a private detective.”