The Other Lady Vanishes by Amanda Quick
“Have you got a cabin for us?” Jake asked.
“Well, now, let me take a look,” Burt said. He lounged against the counter and gave Jake a knowing wink. “We’re a mite busy tonight, what with the fog and all.”
Jake took out his wallet. “I understand.”
He put a couple of bills down on the counter.
He sounded remarkably patient, Adelaide thought. Too patient. She’d had it with the disasters of the day. She was exhausted from the damp, miserable trek along the deserted highway. On top of that, she was struggling to cope with the fact that someone had tried to murder them with a stick of dynamite. She was very short on patience.
She gave Burt a fierce look. “When we arrived a few minutes ago, we noticed that one of the cabins is empty. There’s no car parked in front and no lights on in the windows. Also, I can see a key hanging on the wall behind you. Looks like it goes to number six.”
“Yep, you’re in luck.” Burt chuckled, scooped the money off the counter, and turned around to reach for the key. “Number six is available. Say, did you two hear a loud boom about an hour or so ago?”
“Yeah,” Jake said. “Figured it was a car crash but we didn’t pass any wreckage.”
Adelaide glanced at him, impressed with his ready answer. He ignored her slightly raised eyebrows.
“If some poor soul went off the road in this fog, they won’t find the car until morning,” Burt said.
A stern-looking woman, her gray hair pinned in tight curls, appeared from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron and peered suspiciously at Adelaide’s left hand.
“Here, now, are you two married?” she asked. “We’ve only got the one cabin. Can’t rent it to a couple that isn’t properly married. Got standards here. This isn’t some flophouse. Tell ’em, Burt.”
“Take it easy, Martha.” Burt winked at Jake as he handed over the key. “I’m sure this nice young couple is married.”
“If that’s the case, why aren’t they wearing wedding rings?” Martha demanded.
Adelaide decided she’d had enough. “For your information, we just eloped. We haven’t had a chance to buy rings.”
Jake put his arm around her shoulders. “You’ll have to forgive my bride. She’s a little upset, what with having to walk for a couple of miles after our car broke down. The flashlight died just before we got here. This is our wedding night. As you can see, things haven’t gone exactly as planned.”
“Honeymooners, eh?” Martha’s severe face abruptly softened. She smiled at Adelaide. “I can understand why you’re in a bad mood, what with having to walk all that way on a night like this. Your nerves are probably a little on edge.”
“You have no idea,” Adelaide said.
“I understand. I reckon you probably didn’t get any supper, right?”
“No,” Adelaide said.
“I’ve got some leftover stew and corn bread. Go on over to number six and get settled. I’ll send Burt over with the food in a bit.”
“Thank you,” Adelaide said. She suddenly felt guilty about her churlish behavior. “Sorry about snapping at you. It’s just that it’s been a very long day.”
“I can imagine. Weddings are always stressful—even when things go like clockwork. Run along now. I’ll get the stew and the corn bread ready. Burt will be over shortly.”
“Number six is at the end of the row,” Burt said helpfully. He handed a flashlight to Jake. “Here, take this. You’ll find a lantern in the cabin. There’s also a fireplace. Plenty of wood and kindling. Watch your step out there in the fog.”
“Thanks,” Jake said.
He kept his arm around Adelaide’s shoulder and steered her toward the door. When they were outside, he released her and switched on the flashlight. Lantern light glowed behind the curtains of the five occupied cabins. Number six was so dark it was nearly invisible in the fog.
Jake aimed the beam of the flashlight briefly at each vehicle parked in front of a cabin. Adelaide realized what he was doing and shivered.
“You’re wondering if the guy who tried to murder us ended up stopping here for the night, aren’t you?” she said.
“It was a possibility,” he said. “Not a lot of auto courts between here and Burning Cove. But none of these cars look like the one the guy with the dynamite was driving. He probably didn’t dare stop so close to the scene of an attempted murder.”
“What on earth would you have done if we had stumbled across him here?”
“I’m sure I would have figured out something,” Jake said.
They found the front steps of number six. Jake opened the door. Adelaide moved past him into the small, shadowy confines of the one-room cabin.
“I can’t believe it,” she said.
“What?” Jake closed the door and threw the bolt. “That we finally found the auto court in that fog?”
“No,” she said. “I can’t believe that for the second time in my life I’m a fake bride. What are the odds?”
“Probably not good,” Jake said.
Chapter 37
“Where do you suppose the person who tossed that stick of dynamite under your car ended up spending the night?” Adelaide asked.
She was feeling better now, she concluded. Not exactly normal—she was no longer sure how normal felt—but she was definitely calmer and more clearheaded.
The chicken stew had been hot and filling. The corn bread had been perfect—a lovely golden brown with a crispy crust on the bottom and the sides, courtesy of the cast-iron skillet in which it had been baked. There was a fire going in the brick fireplace. She and Jake were relaxing in a couple of wooden rocking chairs positioned in front of the hearth. The light from the lantern on the small table cast a warm glow over the one-room cabin.
Best of all she was not alone.
It occurred to her that she should not allow herself to get too comfortable with Jake’s companionship. He would not stick around forever. Nevertheless, she was sure that he would remain at her side until they figured out what in the world was going on. He did not doubt her story, and for now that was the most important thing. They were partners, at least for a while, bound together by a web of murder, drugs, and blackmail.
Jake lounged back in his rocker and propped his feet on a hassock. He contemplated the flames in the fireplace.
“Best guess,” he said, “is that the bastard ended up doing what we were planning to do if the fog got heavier—pulled off the highway and is now sleeping in his car. It will be interesting to see what he does when he finds out that we’re still alive.”
“Maybe he’ll panic and run,” Adelaide said.
“I think we have to assume that he’ll head for Burning Cove. That seems to be the center of this spider’s web.”
Adelaide tightened her grip on the arms of her rocking chair. “Because I’m there?”
“Yes.” Jake met her eyes. “And because I’m there, too.”
“Partners,” she said.
“Yes.”
The single word was diamond hard.
A short time later Jake turned down the lantern and banked the fire. He cracked one window partially open for ventilation and then he looked at the two narrow cots.
“Which one do you want?” he asked.
The cots were identical, as far as she could tell. There was one positioned against the wall on each side of the cabin.
“The one on the left,” she said.
She waited for him to suggest that they hang a couple of blankets between the cots for privacy purposes.
“It’s all yours,” he said.
He unfastened his shirt and draped it over the back of one of the chairs. His snug-fitting undershirt revealed the strong line of his shoulders and back. He must have sensed that she was staring because he gave her an inquiring look.
“Something wrong?” he
She flushed and quickly averted her gaze.
“No, of course not,” she said.
She winced. Her voice sounded strained and unnaturally high.
It wasn’t the first time she had seen him shirtless, she reminded herself. She wondered if he would strip off the undershirt, as well. She could not decide if she was relieved or disappointed when he left the garment firmly tucked into the waistband of his trousers.
He picked up the wool blanket at the foot of his cot and unfolded it with a short snap.
“Don’t hesitate to wake me if you hear or see anything that makes you uneasy,” he said.
“I won’t,” she croaked.
He settled down on his side, politely turning his face to the wall to give her some privacy.
She perched on the edge of her cot and contemplated the outline of his lean, nicely muscled body under the blanket for a moment.
Maybe she was the one who was supposed to suggest that they hang some blankets between the cots. On the other hand, there were no extra blankets—just one for each narrow bed. As the fire died down, the damp chill of the foggy night was going to penetrate the cabin. They would each need their blankets.
Partners, she reminded herself. True, there had been that one memorable kiss in the gardens of the Paradise Club, but a single kiss did not a romantic relationship make. Jake certainly showed no signs of staging an assault on her virtue.
That realization was oddly depressing.
She unfolded her blanket, tugged it over her shoulders, and curled on her side, facing the wall. She hoped sleep would come quickly but she had a bad feeling that would not be the case. She was probably doomed to replay the events of the day in her mind for the rest of the night, searching for answers and a path forward. The mix of questions and the accompanying anxiety made for a toxic brew. She wished she had brought some of the tea that she used for the bad nights.
After a while she realized that one question in particular kept rising to the surface.
She stared, wide-eyed, at the shadowed wall until she couldn’t stand it any longer. She had to know.
“Jake?” She kept her voice to a whisper, telling herself she wouldn’t wake him if he had managed to fall asleep. The man needed his rest.
“Yeah?” he mumbled.
“Are you asleep?”
“Not now. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just that I’ve been wondering about something ever since we found Thelma Leggett’s body today.”
“What have you been wondering about?” he asked patiently.
“How could you be so certain so quickly that she probably didn’t take her own life? You were almost as quick to conclude that Zolanda hadn’t intentionally jumped off the roof of her villa. How do you know things like that?”
There was a long silence from the other cot. When Jake spoke again, he sounded fully awake but his words lacked all trace of emotion.
“I suppose I’m predisposed to assume murder until proven otherwise because of my wife’s death,” he said. “She was murdered but the killer staged the scene to make it appear that she had taken her own life.”
“Someone killed her?” Stunned, Adelaide sat up on the edge of the cot. “When Raina looked into your background, she didn’t find anything to suggest that your wife was murdered.”
“That’s because I did a very good job of keeping the truth out of the press,” he said. “It wasn’t difficult because the L.A. cops and the medical examiner did not question the conclusion.”
“Was there an investigation?”
“No, but I knew who murdered her.”
“Who?”
“A man named Peter Garrick. Among other things, he was her lover.”
Adelaide absorbed the implications of that statement. “I see. Raina did say that there had been rumors of an affair.”
Jake was quiet for a time. She was starting to think that was the end of the conversation. But after a moment he began to talk. It was as if he had decided to unlock the door of a very dark room to allow the light to reveal what was stored inside.
“Elizabeth was beautiful, charming, and smart,” he said. “She spoke a couple of languages in addition to English. She was well-traveled. Her family was from the East Coast. They had moved in New York society for generations. There were a lot of very distinguished names dangling from her family tree, including a couple of ambassadors, a state governor, and a senator. I met her while she was vacationing on the West Coast. Her family was not thrilled at first when she accepted my offer of marriage. After all, I wasn’t a product of their world.”
“Did they try to forbid the marriage?”
“No. I was more than a little surprised when they did not try to stand in our way. Initially I assumed that was because they believed that Elizabeth truly loved me and that they wanted her to be happy. In a sense, that was true. Elizabeth told her family that she didn’t want a big society wedding. Looking back, it’s clear they were very relieved. We were married three months after we met. It wasn’t until after the wedding that I slowly began to realize that she was . . . unbalanced.”
“Mentally unbalanced, do you mean?”
“Yes,” Jake said. “It’s hard to explain. She could be as euphoric and excited as a child at a birthday party one day, depressed and withdrawn the next. She lost her temper easily, and when she did, she would scream or throw things. From one day to the next, I never knew what to expect.”
“There were some patients like that at Rushbrook. It was very unsettling to be around them.”
“I found out later that her family had hoped that marriage would calm her wild temperament, but of course that didn’t happen. If anything, marriage made her more unstable.”
“When did you discover that she had taken a lover?”
“Elizabeth didn’t take a lover after our wedding,” Jake said evenly. “She already had one. Peter Garrick. In fact, he was the one who introduced Elizabeth to me. Garrick was a successful lawyer in Los Angeles. He had a lot of wealthy, influential clients including some studio heads, tycoons, and politicians. Garrick and I moved in the same business circles.”
“It must have come as a terrible shock when you discovered that your wife and Garrick were lovers.”
“The fact that she was having an affair with Garrick was certainly disturbing,” Jake said. “But the real shock was finding out that Garrick was a spy for a foreign power. It made me realize what a fool I’d been.”
“Believe me when I tell you I know the feeling.”
“Yes, but you are a naturally trusting person, Adelaide. I am not so inclined to trust. I never thought I could be deceived. To say I learned a lesson is putting it mildly. Con artists will tell you that anyone can be tricked if you promise the target what he or she wants most. They are right.”
“You wanted a wife and a family.”
“Like you, I was alone in the world. I was growing weary of the constant traveling and my work abroad. Yes, I wanted to start a family of my own. Elizabeth seemed perfect.”
“Too good to be true.”
“Yes.”
Adelaide gripped the edge of the cot with both hands. “How did you discover that Garrick was a spy for a foreign power?”
“I was convinced from the start that Elizabeth had not hanged herself. After the funeral I went through her things. I found some letters in the bottom of her jewelry box. They were from Garrick. There were also photos of him and mementos of the times they had spent together. I finally understood that my marriage had been a lie from the start. She had married me to please Garrick. Once I started looking into his background, it didn’t take long to realize that from the very beginning of their relationship he had planned to use her.”
“How?” Adelaide asked. “I don’t understand.”
“Soon after I took over my father’s
“What kind of favors?”
“I told you that my business took me to some dangerous places. The whole world is preparing for war, Adelaide. I was often in a position to observe and photograph the construction of fortifications of various foreign harbors and airports. In the course of my business I met many of the people around the globe who are engaged in the manufacture and shipment of weapons and military equipment. I learned who is stockpiling fuel and other essential materials and where those things were stored.”
“You were a secret agent? A spy?”
“I was never on the government payroll. But, yes, I did favors for that agency I mentioned. Garrick knew that.”
“How did he find out?”
“When it was all over, my contact at the agency told me that they had discovered a freelance spy working at the very heart of the agency. He was selling secrets to anyone who came up with the money.”
“How did you discover that Garrick was working for a foreign power?”
“It wasn’t until I concluded that he had murdered Elizabeth that I began to realize what had happened. Garrick had used her and manipulated her. In his letters he swore he would marry her when he had the information he needed. He made her think that I was the foreign spy and that she was doing her country a service by reporting on my contacts overseas. I think that Elizabeth believed him. She would have believed anything he said. She was obsessed with him. At first, she seemed to have thought that it would be exciting to be a spy. But she soon became bored and frustrated with the task. She wanted out. Garrick killed her to keep her quiet.”
“What happened to Garrick?”
There was a short, brittle pause from Jake’s cot. For a moment she did not think that he would answer the question. But eventually he spoke quietly into the darkness.
“About a month after he murdered Elizabeth, Garrick died,” he said.
“How did that happen?”
“He spent an evening on a gambling ship anchored off Santa Monica. He had too much to drink, fell overboard, and drowned.”