Page 12 of The Other Lady Vanishes

Besides, she was tired of spending most of her evenings alone.

She fixed Jake with a level look. “All right, Mr. Truett. You can have my second ticket to the show tomorrow evening. I’ll meet you at the box office.”

“It’s Jake, remember? And there’s no need to take two cars,” Jake said. “I’ll pick you up.”

She hesitated but couldn’t think of a reason to refuse. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to refuse. Her car was a used Ford that was quite capable of breaking down and leaving her stranded by the side of the road.

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll be ready by seven. Now, will you kindly return to your table before people start to wonder what is going on?”

“Good idea,” he said. He smiled politely but there was a calculating gleam in his eyes. “I could use that cup of tea I ordered. I think my nerves are exhibiting unmistakable signs of overstimulation.”

“Wouldn’t want that to happen,” Adelaide shot back.

“Of course not. No telling where it might lead.”

He turned, moving with his usual prowling grace, and made his way back to his table.

Florence looked at Adelaide. “His nerves are overstimulated? What was he talking about?”

“I have no idea, and you can bet I’m not going to ask him. Call me psychic, but something tells me I wouldn’t like the answer.”

Chapter 6

“Well?” Thelma asked as she fired up the Packard’s heavy engine. “Did she take the bait?”

Zolanda, ensconced on the elegantly tufted leather seat, met Thelma’s eyes in the rearview mirror. They had been a team for three years. Their partnership had been formed when she was still Dorothy Higgins, an aspiring actress who had never managed to land a role. She knew that she had the talent and she was pretty enough, but she lacked the magical quality that transformed an actress like Vera Westlake into a radiant beauty on the silver screen.

At the time, Thelma had been a secretary at one of the studios and a regular at the lunch counter where Zolanda worked. Thelma, too, had once had dreams of becoming a star, but working for an executive inside the business had given her a more realistic approach to life. It was Thelma who had observed that actors were a superstitious lot. They spent an amazing amount of money on palm readers, fortune-tellers, mystics, and psychics.

Thelma had pointed out the business potential over a turkeysandwich that Dorothy had just put in front of her on the counter.You’re a damn good actress,she’d said.You would just need to get into the role.

Exclusivity had been the key, of course. Celebrities did not patronize psychics who worked out of shabby storefront fortune-teller shops. Thelma had selected their first client, a neurotic actress who was easily persuaded that she needed career advice from a psychic. The initial consultation had been a huge success. Zolanda looked back on that first performance as a psychic advisor to the stars with pride. It had been nothing short of brilliant.

A week later the neurotic actress had requested another session. Within the month she had a handful of new clients. Thelma arranged for the consultations to take place in the privacy of the clients’ own homes.

Within two monthsHollywoodWhispersandSilver Screen Secretshad bestowed the title “Psychic to the Stars” on Madam Zolanda. Once the word got out that the stars were consulting Zolanda, everyone who was anyone in L.A. was calling for an appointment. Thelma was careful to keep the client list limited.

It took another few months for Zolanda and Thelma to realize that, as lucrative as the fashionable psychic business was, the real money was in collecting their clients’ secrets. Blackmail was an inherently dangerous pursuit, but it could be astonishingly profitable.

Some of the secrets were time sensitive and had to be cashed in immediately. Others would become more valuable in the future. She and Thelma had always referred to those secrets as their pension plan.

“Adelaide Brockton agreed to attend the performance tomorrow night,” Zolanda said, “but she was not exactly enthusiastic. I had to cough up an extra ticket and convince her to bring a friend.”

“So what? All we care about is that she shows up at the Palace Theater tomorrow night.”

“She’ll be there,” Zolanda said. “But we may have another problem.”

Thelma glanced into the rearview mirror again. “Truett?”

“He seems to have taken an interest in Adelaide.”

“It’s got to be a coincidence,” Thelma said.

But she looked uneasy.

“I don’t like the fact that he just happened to show up here in Burning Cove eight days ago,” Zolanda said.

“Where else does a rich businessman from L.A. go for some rest and relaxation? I’m telling you, his being here is sheer coincidence.”

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