Page 35 of The Other Lady Vanishes

“I wonder why she chose to become the psychic to the stars instead of trying to become a star herself,” Irene mused. “Maybe she didn’t have any talent.”

“She had plenty of talent, if you ask me,” Adelaide said. “Just think of how well she played the psychic role.”

“You’re right.” Irene used a pencil to jot down some notes. “She was pretty enough and she had talent, but she didn’t have that special something that stars like Vera Westlake have, did she?”

“If you’ll excuse me,” Brandon said. “I’ve got a job to do.”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Irene promised.

“Lucky me,” Brandon muttered.

He set off at a brisk pace and disappeared into the house.

Irene turned back to Adelaide. “Talk to me. What happened here?”

“It looks like Madam Zolanda may have jumped or was pushed off the roof of the villa sometime during the night,” Adelaide explained. “That’s really all we know. The only reason we’re here is because I got a call from Zolanda’s assistant, Thelma Leggett, early this morning. She claimed Zolanda was very upset and needed some of her special tea.”

“Hmm.” Irene glanced back at the door of the conservatory. “Is Leggett inside the house?”

“No,” Jake said. “She seems to have disappeared.”

“And Madam Zolanda is dead.” Irene snapped her notebook closed. “Looks like I’ve already got my headline.Psychic to the Stars Predicts Her Own Death.”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t be able to resist that one,” Adelaide said.

Chapter 19

“We should talk,” Jake said.

Adelaide was seated in the passenger seat of the speedster, clutching the packet of Enlightenment tea and her handbag. She was very aware of the crystal perfume bottle stopper inside her bag.

She gave Jake a quick, uneasy glance. He did not take his eyes off the upcoming curve in Cliff Road. His driving, like everything else he did, had an easy, fluid, masculine grace.

“All right,” she said. “What do you want to talk about?”

She was starting to feel as if she was ensnared in a spider’s web. Intuition warned her that the safest course of action was to say as little as possible. Jake had his own priorities—he was after the missing diary. But she had priorities, too. At all costs she had to keep her history at Rushbrook Sanitarium a secret. She could not expect him to believe a word she said—not if he found out that she had escaped from an asylum for the insane.

Jake slowed the car, turned off onto a side road, and came to a stop overlooking a small, secluded beach.

With cool deliberation he shut down the engine and turned to face her. He rested his left hand casually on the wooden steering wheel. His right arm settled on the back of the seat, a position that put his hand directly behind her head.

“The situation is getting complicated,” he said.

“You mean because Thelma Leggett has disappeared with that diary you’re after?”

“It’s not just that she’s gone,” Jake said. “Until this morning I’ve been assuming that I was chasing a blackmailer. I’m still sure that’s the case but I don’t think it’s the whole story.”

Her stomach knotted. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m starting to think that Zolanda and Leggett may have been involved in something more than garden-variety blackmail.”

“What makes you suspect that?”

But she knew the answer.

“Your intruder last night,” he said.

She almost stopped breathing. “How could there possibly be a connection?”

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