Page 5 of Tightrope

Amalie eyed the brandy and decided that she needed some, too. She pushed herself up out of the massive leather sofa and went to the liquor cabinet. Hoisting the bottle, she poured herself a stiff shot.

“You know what they say about something that seems too good to be true,” she said.

“If we had the cash, I’d get a lawyer and sue the real estate agent who sold us this place.”

“Well, we don’t have the money and I doubt if we would win anyway.” Amalie contemplated the big room. “It really is ideal for the kind of inn I imagined.”

In spite of the looming disaster, she loved the mansion. She still could not believe that she owned such an amazing dream house. The large villa on Ocean View Lane looked as if it had been made to order for a Hollywood movie, a film set in the sun-splashed Mediterranean. With its spacious, high-ceilinged rooms, massive stone fireplace, richly paneled walls, and beautiful tile work, it was a grand example of the Spanish colonial revival style. Crowned with a parapet roof clad in red tiles, the house rose three stories above the spacious walled grounds.

The gardens were lush and green. Orange and grapefruit trees perfumed the air. A shady grape arbor provided a delightful retreat. At the rear of the house a glass-and-iron conservatory and a broad patio made a beautiful setting in which to serve breakfast and tea to guests.

The two floors above the ground floor had been designed to accommodate a large number of houseguests for a Hollywood mogul who had planned to entertain on a lavish scale.

An expansive view of the sparkling Pacific Ocean and easy access to a secluded beach completed the gracious scene.

Perfect,Amalie thought.Except for the stupid curse.

“The agent should have warned you about the history of this villa,” Hazel said. “If you had known that a famous Hollywood psychicjumped off the roof a few months ago, you would never have gone through with the purchase.”

“You’re wrong, Hazel.” Amalie took a sip of brandy and simultaneously put up a hand, palm out. “I would have bought it regardless. I couldn’t turn down such an incredible bargain.”

She had sunk the full amount of the small inheritance she had received in the wake of her parents’ deaths into the villa. She had to make the inn successful.

“The only reason the owner was willing to sell so cheap was because he knew full well he couldn’t get much for it, not after that psychic, Madam Zolanda, jumped off the roof,” Hazel said.

“In time, people will forget about the psychic who died here.”

“Maybe,” Hazel allowed. “But now that our first paying guest has been murdered by his own robot in front of a packed theater, we will never be able to attract customers.”

Amalie squared her shoulders. “We have no choice but to figure out how to turn a profit. We will find a way to make the Hidden Beach a premier place to stay in Burning Cove.”

“Got any ideas?”

“Not at the moment, but I’m sure something will come to me.” Amalie swallowed some more brandy and set the glass down. “Meanwhile, I’m going to go upstairs and take a look around Pickwell’s room.”

“It’s after midnight,” Hazel said. “We can pack up his things tomorrow. There’s no rush.”

“I think we can expect a visit from the police first thing in the morning,” Amalie said. “I want to examine the room before they show up.”

Hazel stared at her. “The police?”

“If Pickwell does not survive, his death will officially become a homicide.”

“Homicide by robot.” Hazel shuddered. “Gives a person the creeps, it does. It was like a scene out of a horror movie.”

Amalie thought about that for a beat. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?”

“I will never forget what happened onstage tonight. I still can’t believe that machine murdered its inventor.”

“I find it hard to believe, too,” Amalie said.

She went behind the polished wooden bar that she and Hazel had decided to use as a front desk and opened the door to the small office that had once served as a coat closet. She took a key down off a brass hook.

“What do you expect to find?” Hazel asked.

“I have no idea.” Amalie crossed the lobby to the grand staircase. She paused, one hand on an ornate newel post, and looked back at Hazel. “But that scene onstage tonight has been bothering me.”

“I’m sure it bothered everyone.” Hazel narrowed her eyes. “What, in particular, has you worried? Besides the fact that we will probably be bankrupt within the month, I mean.”

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