“People don’t change. They are what they are.”
“That’s my theory, too,” Irene said.
Chapter 49
The dance floor of the Paradise Club was crowded with men in expensively cut dinner jackets and women in delicate gowns. The members of the orchestra, sharply dressed in white coats and black bow ties, were playing a popular number.
The booth where Irene sat with Oliver was one of many similarly intimate seating arrangements scattered around the room. There was a martini in front of Oliver and a pink lady in front of Irene but the glasses were still full. They had not come here to enjoy themselves, Irene thought. They were here so that Oliver could get a closer look at Julian Enright.
She was very conscious of the shadows that cloaked the club. The low, floor-level lighting and the candles on the tables were designed to enhance the intimate atmosphere.
The high backs and the semicircular design of the upholstered booths ensured privacy for the couples that occupied them, but they also made it impossible to see most of the other club patrons once they were seated.
Irene leaned forward and lowered her voice. “How will we know if Enright and Tremayne show up?”
“Don’t worry, Nick Tremayne is a rising movie star,” Oliver said. “Stars don’t walk into a nightclub, they make entrances.”
“While trying to give the impression that they don’t want to be noticed,” Irene concluded. “But maybe he’ll decide to come alone.”
“Stars don’t go out to fashionable nightclubs alone, either.”
“I agree that’s generally how it works in Hollywood but Enright might not want the attention.”
“If he was concerned about being noticed, he wouldn’t have become Tremayne’s pal.”
Irene considered that briefly. “I can’t argue with that logic. But it sure seems strange that a killer would want so much attention.”
“Who says professional killers can’t be just as vain as movie stars? Besides, if Enright is planning to use Tremayne as cover, he has no choice but to get close to him.”
Luther Pell materialized out of the shadows. He smiled at Irene, a gleam of masculine appreciation in his eyes.
“You look lovely tonight,” he said.
She smiled. “Thank you.”
Oliver frowned. “Any sign of Tremayne and Enright?”
“That’s what I came to tell you,” Luther said. “They just arrived. I’ve arranged for them to be seated at one of the star booths that borders the dance floor.”
“Star booth?” Irene said.
“We reserve the tables around the dance floor for patrons we know want to be seen,” Luther explained. “You’ll have a good view of Tremayne and Enright. If either of them leaves the club for any reason, one of my security people will keep an eye on him. Let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks,” Oliver said, his tone a little gruff. “We’ll do that.”
Luther’s mouth kicked up in an amused smile. He moved on to greet another couple in a nearby booth, playing the gracious nightclub host to the hilt.
Irene glared at Oliver. “He’s not flirting with me, you know. He’s just being polite. I’m sure he tells all of the women who come to his club that they look nice.”
“Probably.” Oliver did not sound convinced. “Here come Tremayne and Enright.”
“Fine. Change the subject. See if I care.”
His jaw tensed.
“I was just teasing you,” she said.
“I know,” he muttered.
He wasn’t really jealous, she thought; he was just feeling a little possessive. Men got that way when they were sleeping with a woman. It was a perfectly natural, perfectly temporary, perfectly superficial masculine response. It didn’t imply a deeper, more abiding emotion.
It occurred to her that she would be irritated if one of the glamorous women in the room happened to stop by to tell Oliver that he looked very attractive tonight. A perfectly natural, temporary, superficial female response. It didn’t imply a deeper, more abiding emotion.
Heaven help her if it did.
Before she could reflect on that realization, she saw Nick Tremayne and Julian Enright.
“You were right,” she said. “Here they come, and it would be hard to miss them.”
The two men were escorted down an aisle by the maître d’. A subtle beam of light appeared as if by magic. It lingered lovingly on Nick Tremayne. Enright was careful to remain a few steps behind the star, as if he didn’t want to steal the scene, but he managed to catch the spotlight for a brief moment. In those few seconds his hair glowed gold and his square-jawed profile drew the eye. Irene heard a low buzz of excitement rise and fall in the shadows as the crowd became aware of the new arrivals.