Page 42 of The Other Lady Vanishes

“I know where Adelaide Blake is. For a price, I’ll give you the information. But you’d better move fast because Gill already knows where she’s hiding out. The only reason he and his pal haven’t grabbed her already is because they haven’t figured out how to do it without drawing the attention of the local police. Miss Brockton—that’s the name she’s using these days—has friends now, you see. If she goes missing, people will start looking for her.”

“I can handle Adelaide Blake or Brockton or whatever she’s calling herself,”he’d said.“Just tell me how much you want for the information and where you want me to leave the money.”

The anonymous caller had named the price and given him the location where the transaction would take place. She had warned him not to be late. He had agreed instantly although it involved a long drive to the rendezvous point, a gas station outside a small rural town on Highway 101. He glanced at his watch. It was a little after eight in the morning. He would pack a bag and leave immediately.

Gill and whoever he was working with might not be smart enoughto figure out how to get control of Adelaide without drawing the attention of the cops, but that would not be a problem for him, Conrad thought. He had been able to make her fall in love with him once. He could do it again.

Chapter 24

The following morning the Refresh Tearoom was packed.

“Business is certainly booming today,” Florence declared. She set the teapot down on the counter and surveyed the packed tearoom through the kitchen doorway. “Maybe you should find dead bodies more often.”

“Don’t say that.” Adelaide carefully measured tea into a pot. “I’m still trying to get the scene out of my head. It was awful, Flo. She was just lying there, all crumpled up on the patio.”

The Refresh Tearoom had been busy from the moment it opened. The questions had been incessant but Adelaide came up with a standard reply:Sorry. Can’t talk about it. Police are still investigating.When the investigation was concluded, she planned to rewrite the script:Sorry. Can’t talk about it. Too upsetting.I’m sure you understand.

“I think you should know that it’s all over town that Jake Truett spent the night at your place,” Florence warned in low tones. “And that he was with you when you found the dead psychic.”

“I told you, Mr. Truett is my new boarder. I need the money.”

“I heard you the first time,” Florence said. “But that’s not going to stop the gossip. You might need the cash but Truett doesn’t need the cheap rent. He could afford to stay at the Burning Cove Hotel.”

“He prefers the privacy of a cottage on the beach.”

“Not much privacy at your place, is there? You’re sharing the same bathroom now.”

Last night the shared bathroom had not been a problem, Adelaide reflected. She had been too exhausted to care that there was a man in her cottage. The sleepless night before the discovery of Zolanda’s body followed by the long day spent talking to the police and hiring Raina had ensured her first solid night’s sleep in months.

Jake had been a perfect gentleman. Knowing that he was sleeping just down the hall had given her the first real peace of mind she had experienced since the awful night when she was locked up at Rushbrook.

She had to admit she had been severely jolted that morning, however, when, still groggy from sleep, she opened the bathroom door and found Jake, nude to the waist, shaving in front of a steamy mirror. They both apologized and she backed out of the small space immediately. But once she recovered from the shock, she had concluded that she could quickly become accustomed to the sight of Jake without a shirt. He had a very nicely muscled back and excellent shoulders.

“There’s plenty of room at my cottage,” she said to Florence.

“Honey, you don’t have to pretend, not with me. I’m your friend, remember? I’m glad that you and Truett are having a little summer fling. I just want to be sure you understand that when he goes back to L.A., that’ll be the end of it. Do yourself a favor. Don’t start dreaming of wedding gowns and gold rings.”

Adelaide thought about the gold ring in the safe under her bed. A shiver of icy horror swept through her. “Trust me when I tell you that I am definitely not making wedding plans.”

Florence eyed her closely for a few seconds and then nodded once,evidently satisfied with what she saw. “I can’t help but notice that your new boarder has very conveniently managed to escape all the curiosity seekers. He hasn’t been in for his usual cup of green tea this morning.”

“Jake went into town to pick up a few things at the hardware store,” Adelaide said. “He wants to do some minor repairs on my cottage.”

There was no need to add that he had left with a shopping list that included new locks and the tools required to install them.

“Does he, now? Well, well, well. Wouldn’t have thought a rich businessman from L.A. would make a good handyman.”

“I think he’s trying to make himself useful,” Adelaide said.

That was no less than the truth, she decided.

Florence peered at her. “Speaking of Mr. Truett and his exhausted nerves, how did he handle the scene at Madam Zolanda’s villa yesterday morning? Must have been a real shock for him. I gather he didn’t faint or have hysterics.”

Adelaide thought about how quickly Jake had approached the body, checked for a pulse, and then searched the villa.

“Nope,” she said.

Florence chuckled. “Had a hunch that might be the case. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with his nerves.”

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