Page 85 of Close Up

Nick tried to shake off the fog that was invading his senses. He forced himself to focus for a moment longer.

“Vivian won’t be safe until we find out who hired the assassin,” he said.

Chapter 41

Nick was sitting on the exam table in the clinic when Vivian came through the door, riding an invisible storm of energy. She was not alone. Uncle Pete was right behind her. He looked worried, too, but mostly he appeared relieved.

“What went wrong?” he asked.

“A small miscalculation,” Nick said.

“I told you your plan had a couple of weak points.”

“Yes, you did mention that,” Nick said.

Vivian halted directly in front of him and examined the bandage on his upper right shoulder.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “Did you lose a lot of blood? You should be lying down. Are they going to admit you to the hospital?”

“I’m okay,” he said. “According to Dr. Skipton I have no business taking up space at the local hospital.”

The doctor stuffed some bloody clothing into a trash bin and looked at Vivian. “He’ll be fine, although he’s going to be sore for a fewdays. Got the bullet out. Wound is clean. Fortunately the other guy was only using a twenty-two. Not a lot of stopping power.”

“People keep telling me that,” Nick said. “I would just like to say it still hurts.”

Skipton shrugged. “Next time do a better job of counting off the shots fired.”

Nick groaned. “Easy for you to say.”

Pete’s brows shot up. “That was the miscalculation?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “Could we just leave it at that?”

An officer appeared at the door. “Excuse me, Doc, but if you’re finished in here, Detective Brandon would like you to examine the body of the guy who shot Mr. Sundridge.”

“This is turning into a busy night,” Skipton said. He picked up a black leather medical satchel and paused to nod at Vivian. “See to it Mr. Sundridge doesn’t do anything too energetic for a while. I don’t want him to ruin my sewing work.”

Vivian flushed. Nick realized the doctor had concluded it was her job to take care of him.

“I understand, Doctor,” she said.

Nick got a giddy little rush of pleasure. She hadn’t argued; hadn’t tried to push the responsibility off on Uncle Pete. Surely that was a good omen. Or maybe he was just delirious.

Skipton went out the door.

Nick concentrated on Vivian.

“Luther called you?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “Lyra and Raina and Irene and I were in the lounge at the hotel. Ripley Fleming was dancing with Lyra. Luther gave us the address of Dr. Skipton’s clinic, but Lyra and I don’t know our way around town. Neither does Mr. Fleming. Raina knew exactly where the clinic was located, though. She drove me here.”

“Fleming was with you tonight at the hotel?”

“Yes.” Vivian narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Never mind,” Nick said. He caught Pete’s eye. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Luther strolled into the room. “The Poet is dead but there was identification on the body. The name is Jonathan Treyherne. The address is an expensive neighborhood in Los Angeles. Raina is going to make some phone calls to her contacts in L.A. I’ll let you know what she finds out.”

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