Page 89 of Close Up

The California sunlight got a little warmer, a shade more golden. The Pacific sparked and flashed and dazzled. The elegantly manicured hotel gardens appeared more lush. The scents of flowers and the sea stirred his senses.

Everything that was important to him now was in Vivian’s smile—trust, friendship, understanding, acceptance, approval. She believed in him. And maybe, just maybe, she loved him. He devoutly hoped so because he was sure he would be doomed if she didn’t.

He knew now that the jolt of unfamiliar sensations that had blindsided him the first day when she opened her door and found him on her front step was not a sign of lack of sleep. The rush of exhilaration he had experienced was his Sundridge intuition telling him she was the one he had been waiting for.

He forced himself to focus on what mattered at that moment.

“I’m here,” he said to Raina. “Go on.”

“We know from his poems that Jonathan was every bit as mad as his brother but he was a lot better at concealing his crazy side,” Raina said. “He was in the murder-for-hire business in New York for at least two years before he moved to California.”

“Not crazy. Just plain evil.”

“What?” It was Raina’s turn to fall silent for a beat or two. “Oh, yes. I see what you mean.Evilis the right word, isn’t it? It’s just that, in the modern era, we’re supposed to believe that human motives and emotions can be explained by psychological theories.”

“We’re not there yet,” Nick said.

“No,” Raina said. Her voice was very firm now. “Not yet. Tocontinue with the history of the Feathergill family, Edward Feathergill vanished from society shortly after his mother was murdered. He was said to be on an extended voyage around the world. Eventually he was declared lost at sea.”

“Instead, Jonathan had him locked up in a private sanitarium, Maple Tree Farm,” Nick said. “Then, with his brother safely out of the way, Jonathan moved to California, reinvented himself under the name Jonathan Treyherne, and went back into the murder-for-hire business.”

“It must have come as a shock when his brother escaped and tracked him down in L.A.,” Raina said. “But there wasn’t much Jonathan could do. Then Edward started killing again. He finally got arrested for murder, thanks to Vivian. Jonathan must have been frantic. He could not afford to have his brother talking to the police.”

“So he smuggled Edward out of the hospital, drove him to a lonely highway, and ran him down,” Nick said.

On the other side of the table, sudden comprehension lit Vivian’s eyes.

“That bastard Treyherne blamedme,” she said. “He convinced himself I was the reason he had to murder his own brother.”

“Yes,” Nick said. “That fits. He blamed you and he wanted revenge.”

“I heard that,” Raina said. “We finally have a motive that explains why Vivian’s name is in the journal. In his own twisted way, Jonathan was determined to avenge his brother’s death.”

“That’s why there was no client named in the final entry in the journal,” Nick said. “The Poetwasthe client.”

“Hang on,” Raina said. “Luther wants to talk to you.”

Luther came on the line.

“It’s over,” he said. “I’m going to give the journal and your uncle’s transcriptions of the poems to someone I know in the Bureau. The FBI and the Los Angeles police will probably conduct their own investigations into the murders that have already occurred.”

“It’s going to be hard to reopen any of those cases,” Nick said. “The Poet was very, very good at making the deaths looks like accidents or natural causes.”

“Don’t worry,” Luther said. “The most spectacular cases will be tried in the press. I’m sure there will be a few convictions. Regardless, those other crimes are not our problem. Our job was to stop the open commission, the murder that was still in the planning stage. Thanks to you, Vivian Brazier is alive. Nice work, Nick.”

Nick hung up the phone and looked at Vivian and Lyra.

“Luther says it’s over,” he said.

Lyra shuddered. “I still can’t believe that my sister was the target of not one but two killers. The fact that they were brothers makes it even more bizarre.”

“Yes, but it does explain the coincidence factor,” Nick said. “We now know why Vivian was attacked twice within the same month.”

Vivian looked thoughtful. “One thing I still don’t understand. How did Jonathan Treyherne, or Feathergill or whatever his name was, figure out that Toby Flint would know how to find me?”

Lyra waved a hand in a casual gesture. “According to Nick, the Poet had a history of stalking his victims for a full month before he acted. He collected information about them. If he was watching your beach cottage he would have seen Flint stop by to borrow some film or gas money. It wouldn’t have taken much research to discover Flint was always in need of cash.”

Vivian sighed. “In exchange for a few dollars, Toby would have been happy to answer a couple of seemingly innocent questions. I guess that explains it. Coincidences do happen.

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