Page 19 of The Other Lady Vanishes

Adelaide glanced at him in surprise. “You’re right. I hadn’t considered the exact wording of the prediction. But when you think of a bloody death, murder is the first thing that comes to mind, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Why would Zolanda risk her reputation by making a prediction that probably won’t come true?”

“I don’t think Madam Zolanda’s reputation will suffer if theprediction fails,” Jake said. “That’s the interesting thing about the psychic business—it’s virtually impossible to kill off a good act. Nobody remembers the predictions that didn’t happen. People believe what they want to believe and forget the rest.”

“So Zolanda made that horrible prediction just to inspire dark thrills in the audience?”

Jake shot her a quick, searching look and then returned his attention to Cliff Road, a narrow, two-lane strip of pavement that followed the bluffs above the ocean.

“Zolanda’s grand finale really upset you, didn’t it?” he said, his voice very neutral.

It upset you, too,she thought, but she did not say the words aloud.

She took a deep breath and composed herself. “I admit I was rather startled.” She paused, searching for a brighter conversational topic. “You were right about the psychic act. It’s just a form of stage magic. A combination of clever tricks and a good story.”

“The difference is that when you watch a magician perform, you know it’s all clever tricks and a good story,” Jake said. He eased the car smoothly into another gear. “The magician invites you to be amazed, and if he’s good, you are astonished by his skill. But a psychic wants you to actually believe in the paranormal. Those who fall for the act can be persuaded to do things that they might not otherwise do—things that prove to be harmful or dangerous.”

She studied his hard, unyielding profile. Understanding whispered through her.

“Can I assume you know someone who was taken in by a psychic or a fortune-teller?” she asked quietly.

He hesitated and then nodded once. “Yes.”

“I see. If your opinion of psychics is so low, may I ask why you wanted to accompany me to the performance tonight?”

For the first time since leaving the theater, a shadow of a smile briefly transformed Jake’s stern features.

“Isn’t it obvious why I talked you into giving me that second ticket?” he said.

A flash of understanding sparked through her. She clenched her hand around her evening bag.I should have known he had an ulterior motive,she thought.

“I see,” she said, striving to keep her tone cool.

“What do you see?”

“Madam Zolanda was the psychic who tricked your friend, wasn’t she?”

Jake took his eyes off the road just long enough to give her a quick, narrow-eyed glance.

“How the hell did you figure that out?” he asked.

He was annoyed, she decided, but not with her. He had never intended to give himself away. But he probably wasn’t accustomed to dealing with paranoid mental patients who were always ready to suspect a plot or a conspiracy.

She gripped her bag with both hands and stared straight ahead at the winding road. So much for the possibility of engaging in a fleeting seaside romance with an interesting businessman from out of town.

“It explains a lot,” she said. “You found me and my extra ticket very convenient, didn’t you?”

“You are a very smart lady.” Jake tightened his hands on the wheel. “But for your information, I already had a ticket to Zolanda’s performance tonight. That’s not why I wanted to accompany you this evening.”

“There’s no need for explanations,” she said. “You’ve made yourself clear. You’re in Burning Cove because you followed Madam Zolanda here. That’s why you’ve made a habit of showing up at Refresh every day. You know that there’s a good chance she’ll show up, too. You’re watching her.”

“Stop jumping to conclusions. I admit that Zolanda is why I’m here, but I asked you for that extra ticket because I wanted to spend theevening with you. Zolanda’s performance seemed like the perfect opportunity.” Jake paused. “It was either that or the art museum.”

The museum crack was an attempt to change the subject, she decided. She was not about to fall for it. He had used her, and she’d had enough of being used by men.

“Let’s get back to your real reason for being in town,” she said. “What do you hope to do? Prove Zolanda is a fraud? What good will that do? As you’ve already pointed out, people will believe what they want to believe.”

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