Page 40 of Close Up

It had dawned on him that since the police had not come knocking on his door he could probably assume that whoever had stolen the journal moved in the criminal underworld. He had a few connections there himself. In desperation he had placed a call to an anonymous telephone number. He had left a message. Within hours the unknown individual who called himself simply the Broker had returned his call. The Broker had said that, for a fee, he would put out the word that someone waswilling to pay any amount of money for a certain book of poems. So far no one had signaled a willingness to sell.

Maybe the thief had been killed by a fellow criminal, one who had no interest in a notebook filled with poems. Maybe the volume had wound up in a city dump.

But he was afraid to let himself believe that the journal had been discarded or destroyed by someone who did not comprehend its value. He had to know exactly what had happened to it.

Again and again he told himself that the precautions he had taken by encrypting the commissions were sufficient to protect him. He had tried to convince himself that there was nothing in the journal that could be used to identify him. But he knew that was not entirely true. There was a great deal of information in the poems. Names, dates, addresses, methods. A smart cop or a savvy special agent at the Bureau might be able to put it all together in a way that pointed at him.

The man gazing out from the mirror realized that his sanity if not his life depended on balancing two equally critical tasks. He had to recover the poems before someone realized what they really were.

But he also had to complete the commission. This one was too important. It could not be ignored, set aside, or postponed.

Jonathan turned away from the looking glass and went into his study. He poured a stiff shot of brandy with a shaking hand and gulped down half the glass before he was satisfied that his nerves had begun to steady.

He lit a cigarette and went to stand at the window, looking out into the endless night. After a moment he began to think clearly once again. The Broker was his best hope for tracking down the journal. For now there was nothing more that could be done on that front.

It was time to get back to the business of completing the commission. The first step was to find Vivian Brazier.

Chapter 17

Burning Cove

The next day...

You’re taking a vacation in Burning Cove?” Lyra asked, voice rising in astonishment. “After losing everything in that dreadful fire last night?”

“I didn’t loseeverything,” Vivian said. “I’ve got one of my cameras and my handbag. Thankfully I was also able to save my art negatives and my portfolio. I went shopping as soon as the stores opened here in Burning Cove this morning. I picked up some clothes and other essentials. Trust me, I’ve got everything I need.”

Including a very luxurious hideout, she thought. She was currently standing in the living room of one of the small guest villas scattered across the grounds of the Burning Cove Hotel. The French doors were open to the private patio and walled garden. Through the wrought iron gate at the far end of the patio she could see the sun-splashed Pacific.

Nick was lounging in the shade, reading a newspaper. Rex was stretched out beside him. It all looked serene and luxurious.You’d never know there’s a killer after me.

Nick had been right about the impeccable discretion of the hotelstaff. No one at the front desk had so much as blinked when the bedraggled, disreputable-looking honeymoon couple had checked in without luggage or wedding rings.

“You shouldn’t be alone, not after what you went through last night,” Lyra said. “I’ll drive down to Burning Cove and keep you company.”

Vivian tightened her grip on the receiver. The last thing she wanted to do was put Lyra in danger.

“We’ve already been over this,” she said. “I’m fine, really. You have a big engagement party to plan, remember?”

Lyra was silent for a long moment. “All right, I can certainly see why you might need some time to recover. But you’re okay, right? You weren’t injured?”

“I’m fine.”

“Thank goodness you were not asleep last night when the fire started,” Lyra said.

“Mm.”

“The press is reporting that the authorities think your chemicals and film may have been the cause of the fire,” Lyra said.

“Yes, I know. But that was not the source, believe me.”

“Maybe an electrical problem? It was an old house, after all.”

“The authorities are conducting a thorough investigation,” Vivian said. “I’m sure they’ll figure it out.”

That was a bit of a stretch. The police and the fire department in Adelina Beach were no doubt doing their best but their resources were limited.

“Doesn’t it seem very strange that not long after you were attacked by the Dagger Killer your cottage is destroyed?” Lyra asked. “Talk about odd coincidences.”

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