Page 34 of Close Up

“I pay the rent with my crime-and-fire-scene photos, remember? They mostly occur at night. Besides, I haven’t slept well since that bastard Deverell tried to gut me with a very large knife.”

“You live an adventurous life, Miss Brazier.”

“So do you, Mr. Sundridge. Why are you prowling around my house in the middle of the night?”

“I’m up because Rex and I got a feeling that something had... changed.”

“In what way?”

“Ever had the sensation that someone was watching you?”

“Funny you should ask. I’ve had the feeling a lot lately. Figured it was just nerves. Why?”

“In my experience, it’s usually true,” Nick said.

Vivian took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Do you think someone is out there right now? Watching this house?”

“That’s what it feels like. Rex seems to think so, too, and when it comes to this sort of thing, he’s usually right.”

“Well, there could be a logical explanation.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s after midnight and your car is parked in front of my place. I wouldn’t be surprised if Miss Graham across the street is watching to see if you really are going to stay here all night. By tomorrow morning the whole neighborhood will be speculating about our relationship. Well, not exactly speculating. They’ll be convinced we’re having an affair.”

“Are you worried?”

“No. Everyone around here has already concluded that I enjoy a rather unconventional lifestyle.”

He nodded. “The Muscle Beach clients?”

“Right. So, what do we do now?”

“Rex and I are going to take a look outside. If someone is hanging around, Rex will flush him out.”

Rex started barking furiously. He scratched at the door.

Nick hit the switch that doused the porch lights.

“Stay in the hallway,” he said to Vivian. “Don’t go near any windows.”

“I really don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go outside—”

She was interrupted by the stunning sound of shattering glass in the living room.

Nick raced across the kitchen, Rex at his heels. By the time they reached the living room, the flames of the incendiary device were already leaping high, seizing on the swaths of gossamer drapery that Vivian used to control the studio lighting.

“My camera,” Vivian yelped.

Frantically she tried to push past Nick.

The tripod and the big view camera were inches from the flames.

“Too late,” Nick said. “This old cottage is all wood. It’s going to come down fast. We need to get out. Now.”

In the light of the rising tide of fire, Vivian’s striking face was etched in anger and frustration. To his relief she did not argue.

“Yes,” she said.

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