Page 63 of The Other Lady Vanishes

A cat meowed in the shadows. A few seconds later the creature darted past her, gliding briefly through the moonlight before disappearing again.

She started breathing again but she could not squelch the panic entirely. She went quickly toward the exit, clutching the gun. She did not stop until she reached her car. She used the flashlight then, aiming it through the back seat window to make sure no one was concealed on the floorboard.

She got into the Ford and slipped her gun back into her handbag. She was shaking so badly it took two tries to turn the key in the ignition, and she had to concentrate hard just to get the car in gear. The fog was rolling in heavily now. She drove slowly through the dark streets and out onto the road that would take her back to the cabin.

A short time later she walked through the front door, flashlight in hand. Dropping the handbag and the envelope onto the cot, she crossed to the small kitchenette and lit the lantern on the counter. The glary light flared, illuminating the small space. The bottle of whiskey was sitting next to the cracked, chipped sink.

She poured herself a large glass and gulped down a fortifying swallow. She’d taken a risk tonight but it had paid off. The score was a big one. She was in business. She had enough secrets to last for years. She did not need Zolanda.

In spite of the whiskey, a chill whispered through her. For some reason the cabin no longer felt like a safe place to hide. She would headfor San Francisco in the morning. It would be easier to disappear in a city.

Satisfied with that decision, she drank some more whiskey and contemplated the thick envelope on the cot. A rising sense of hot exultation burned away the uneasy sensation that she had experienced a moment ago.

She lit a cigarette, stuck it in the corner of her mouth, and crossed the small space to the cot. Seizing the envelope, she tore it open and upended it, dumping the neatly bound packets onto the stained quilt.

So much money. Maybe she should have asked for more. But tonight had been only the first of what would become a steady stream of payoffs.

She picked up one of the packets and startled to riffle through it.

Seconds later, she paused, horrified. The bill on top was real but the rest of the packet was nothing but a stack of neatly cut newspapers. She tossed it down onto the cot, rage splashing through her. Quickly she checked the other packets. They were all the same—only the bills on the top were genuine.

The target had dared to cheat her. Why do such a thing?

The answer came in a dizzying rush. She had been set up.

She had to get away. Now. Tonight.

Hauling the grip out from under the bed, she threw her things into it and slammed the lid closed. She hoisted it and set it on the floor near the door. She would take the hatbox out to the car first. It was very heavy. She could not manage it and the suitcase at the same time.

She yanked open the front door and confronted a seemingly impenetrable wall of fog. The lantern light spilled through the doorway behind her. It would be a tough drive but she had to get away.

She carried the hatbox down the front steps, set it inside the trunk, and rushed back into the cabin to pick up the grip. Once again she started down the steps to the Ford.

She froze halfway to the car because things were moving in themist. Horrifying, snake-headed creatures twisted and writhed endlessly, their iridescent scales glowing with bizarre colors. Fangs dripped with blood.

Somewhere in the back of her mind she realized that she was hallucinating. The whiskey, she thought vaguely. But she wasn’t drunk. She had taken only a couple of swallows.

She gave up trying to make sense of what she was seeing because the colors of the snakes were too hot and painfully bright. One of the monsters swam toward her through the mist. Its eyes blazed with a terrible radiance.

A flashlight,some remote part of her brain tried to tell her. Just a flashlight. But she could not hold on to the rational explanation.

She started to turn around, intending to flee into the safety of the cabin. But it was too late.

The killer came up behind her and plunged the needle into the curve of her shoulder, close to her neck. She staggered over the threshold and made it as far as the bed before she collapsed. Her last conscious thought was that the target had double-crossed her.

• • •

?The killer took out a gun. The occasion called for another suicide but it was time to change the method. The nearest house was half a mile away. The roar of the ocean would muffle the shot.

The next order of business was locating the stash of blackmail materials. The hatbox containing the secrets that Madam Zolanda and her assistant had collected during the past three years was in the trunk of Leggett’s car.

Chapter 31

Jake opened his eyes and was vaguely annoyed to see the dull gloom of a foggy morning. Something important had happened during the night, he thought. But for a moment he could not remember what it was. Fragments of dreams whispered through his mind.

He recalled standing on a moonlit beach with Adelaide and seeking answers at the end of a highway paved in silver moonlight. A monster had lurked in the shadows. It had threatened Adelaide.

He was trying to focus on the memory when Adelaide herself appeared, hovering over him. She was no longer wearing the satin gown and silver shoes. Instead she had on a pair of wide-legged trousers and a snug-fitting sweater. Her hair was pinned in a severe knot at the nape of her neck. She had a mug in one hand.

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