Page 14 of The Other Lady Vanishes

“You do realize that Madam Zolanda is a fraud.” Raina Kirk picked up a pencil and tapped it gently on the desktop blotter. “A complete charlatan who has found a very lucrative market—rich celebrities who are also silly enough to believe in the occult.”

Adelaide paused in her survey of the newly opened office of Kirk Investigations to glare at her friend. “Of course I know she’s a fake. Anyone who claims paranormal powers is a fraud.”

She and Raina had met several weeks earlier when Raina had stopped in at Refresh for tea. They had immediately recognized each other as kindred spirits—two women on their own in the world, both newcomers in Burning Cove who were determined to reinvent themselves.

One of the things they had in common was that, by unspoken mutual agreement, neither of them talked much about the past. Little by little they were starting to confide in each other, but neither of them was ready to lower all the barriers. Their mutual respect for each other’s secrets was, in itself, a strong bond, Adelaide thought.

Although they were careful not to spend too much time talking about the past, they were comfortable with each other. Their friendship had taken root when Raina had come by Refresh to quietly ask for a recommendation for a tea or tisane that would improve her sleep. Adelaide had prepared one of her mother’s favorite remedies for insomnia, a blend that included valerian, lemon balm, and other herbs. Raina had found it helpful.

In return, Raina had made the hundred-mile trip to L.A. with her to help her purchase a small gun and some ammunition. On the way home they had stopped at a deserted beach where Raina had given her some basic instructions on the use and care of the weapon. There had been a few more clandestine visits to the secluded strip of sand.

Some friends went shopping or had lunch together, Adelaide thought. Some went out for target practice.

She knew that Raina had concluded that Adelaide was running from a man. That was true enough, she thought. For her part, she had not asked Raina to explain why she had left a secretarial post with a New York law firm to move across the country to Burning Cove. Nor had she inquired about Raina’s familiarity with firearms.

Raina was an attractive, polished woman in her mid-thirties with an innate sense of style and an air of cool, professional reserve. She was always fashionably dressed and she drove a flashy new speedster. Her investigation business had opened in an exclusive business plaza. Adelaide had taken care not to inquire about the source of the money.

“Madam Zolanda put me in an awkward position,” Adelaide said. “I didn’t want to appear rude. She’s been a great customer. Florence is thrilled because Zolanda has brought a lot of celebrity business into the tearoom.”

“Zolanda is currently very fashionable with the Hollywood set,” Raina said.

“Yes, I know,” Adelaide said.

She crossed the room, admiring the leather chairs and thehandsome floor tiles along the way. Raina’s new office was classy, like Raina herself. It looked more like the office of an expensive lawyer than one that belonged to a private investigator.

She stopped at the window and looked out at the shady plaza. Every shop and office in the vicinity, including Raina’s, was done in the Spanish colonial revival style that Adelaide had learned was de rigueur for Burning Cove. The city council wielded a lot of authority when it came to enforcing the strict rules that covered construction and remodeling. The vast majority of structures—from clothing stores to gas stations and everything in between, including the public library, the hospital, and the grand Burning Cove Hotel—featured red tile roofs, white plaster walls, palm-studded courtyards, and a lot of breezy, covered walkways.

The whole town looked like it had been copied from a picture postcard illustration of a Mediterranean village. But Burning Cove was very real, Adelaide thought. She was starting to hope that it was a place she could call home.

“Just promise me you won’t leave Zolanda’s performance convinced that she really does have paranormal powers,” Raina said.

“Not likely.” Adelaide turned around. “Don’t worry about me, Raina.”

“Why do I have the feeling that there is something you haven’t told me about your plans for tomorrow evening?”

Adelaide smiled. “Maybe you’re the one who is psychic. Probably a useful quality in a private investigator. As a matter of fact, there is something I haven’t told you. I have a date for Zolanda’s show.”

Raina’s elegantly arched brows rose. “Well, well, well. That certainly makes things more interesting. Congratulations. Who’s the lucky guy?”

“His name is Jake Truett. He’s my neighbor out on Crescent Beach. He’s here in Burning Cove because his doctor told him he needs an extended stay by the seaside.”

“He’s got health problems?”

“Evidently his nerves have been badly stressed because he has been working too hard.”

“Hmm. Did he ask you to prescribe some herbal blends that will help his nerves?”

“No.” Adelaide winced. “I made the mistake of offering him some advice, though. He was clearly annoyed. He made fun of me for being so serious.”

“Let me get this straight—you are going to the theater tomorrow night with a gentleman who was rude to you when you offered to help him?”

“To be fair, I think I offended him.”

“By offering advice?” Raina’s voice rose in disbelief.

“I doubt if any man wants to admit that he has been diagnosed with exhausted nerves. It was obvious he regretted telling me his reason for being in Burning Cove.”

“How did you respond when he was rude to you?”

---