The Other Lady Vanishes by Amanda Quick
His own gun was also on the table, also close at hand. He’d left the shoulder holster behind on his nightstand. There had not been time to buckle it on after he’d become alarmed by the lights in Adelaide’s cottage.
They had established a cautious truce but were circling each other warily. He knew that Adelaide was not telling him everything but he also sensed that she was not lying to him. Fair enough. She had a right to her secrets. He was keeping a few from her.
All things considered, it had been a very unusual first date.
“I could stay here until morning,” he said.
He realized immediately that the offer had not come out quite the way he had intended.
She tensed. “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.”
He groaned. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
She relaxed a little. A ghost of a smile touched her mouth. “I know. But, really, I’ll be all right. To be honest, I’m starting to wonder if I actually did leave the laundry room window open.”
“You said you thought the shoe rack in your wardrobe had been moved—as if someone had searched the place for valuables.”
“Maybe I was wrong about that, too,” Adelaide said, her tone stark. She shook her head. “Maybe I imagined that it had been moved. I . . . get a little nervous after dark.”
The possibility that she had let her imagination run away with her common sense disturbed her more than seemed appropriate under the circumstances. After all, she was a woman living alone. She had a right to be extra cautious, especially at night.
He glanced at the gun.
“One question comes to mind,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed a little. “What’s that?”
“If someone did search your house looking for valuables, why didn’t he find the gun?” A thought struck. Now his nerves really were rattled. “Don’t tell me you had it in your handbag all evening.”
“Of course not,” she said.
“I’m relieved to hear that.”
“I keep it under my bed.”
She slept with a gun under the bed. The lady was running from someone; a man, most likely.
“Can you think of any logical reason why someone would break into a house like this but not take anything?” she asked.
She was serious, he realized. She was searching for an explanation for the break-in that would be less frightening than the one she evidently feared.
“There are some very dangerous people in the world,” he said. “It’s not inconceivable that someone broke in here tonight because he believed that you were at home and in bed and, therefore, vulnerable.”
She lowered the mug and stared at him, her eyes widening in surprise. “Do you think someone broke in here tonight because he intended to assault me?”
It struck him as a very odd reaction, especially coming from a woman who lived alone. The possibility that a rapist might have targeted her should have been the first thing that occurred to her. Instead, it seemed to be the very last thing she had considered.
“That kind of crime does happen,” he said, “even in places like Burning Cove.”
“Of course. I should have considered that immediately. I suppose I was more focused on . . . other possibilities.”
“Such as?”
“Theft, naturally,” she said a little too forcefully.
“But nothing was taken.”
She winced. “No. That doesn’t leave a lot of other logical explanations, does it?”
“There is one other thing you should probably consider.”
She eyed him warily. “What?”
“A moment ago I reminded you that there are some dangerous people in the world. There are also some very disturbed people running loose in society. Not all of the crazies are safely locked up in an asylum.”
She almost dropped the coffee mug. Her lips parted but no words came out. She just stared at him, stricken.
“Right.” He had upset her enough for one night. Reluctantly he pushed himself to his feet. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to stay—”
“Thank you, but there’s no need, really. I’ll leave all the lights on until morning. I don’t think any intruder will return to a house that is lit up like a movie set, do you?”
She had found her voice again but she was talking much too fast now.
“Probably not,” he agreed.
“If he does, I’ll be awake and I’ll have my gun. Please don’t worry about me.”
“Tell you what, use the lights as a signal. If you hear anything, anything at all, turn the lights off in whatever room you happen to be in at the time. I’ll keep an eye on this house until dawn. If I see even one of the windows go dark, I’ll come back to check on you.”
She frowned. “But you’ll be asleep.”
“No,” he said. “I won’t be asleep.”
“You’re going to sit up all night watching my windows?”
He smiled. “Not like I’ve got anything better to do. Told you I was bored.”
She studied him for a long moment. She looked torn. Finally she moved one hand in a dismissive gesture.
“If you’re going to insist on watching my house for the rest of the night, you might as well stay here. I’ve got some books and magazines you can read if you don’t want to sleep. I’ll make more coffee.”
“That sounds like an excellent plan.”
“You’re welcome to nap on the sofa.”
“I won’t be doing any napping.”
“It’s going to be a long night,” Adelaide warned.
He smiled a little. “Not my first.”
She gave him a considering look. “You’re not the partying type. If you were, you would spend your evenings at the Burning Cove Hotel or the Paradise Club while you’re here in Burning Cove. I’m assuming those other long nights you just mentioned were connected to your import-export business?”
“Good guess.”
“Sometime I’d like to hear more about your line of work. It sounds interesting.”
“I told you, I’ve retired from the import-export business.”
She nodded. “You’re looking for a new job.”
“I hadn’t given it much thought.”
“Nonsense.” She gave him a severe look. “You’re a healthy man in the prime of life. You need a profession, a career—a job.”
He sipped his coffee. “If you say so.”
“You’re not really interested in talking about this, are you?”
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve got other things on my mind at the moment.”
She looked as if she wanted to argue, but she managed to beat back her concern for his rather dim employment prospects. She gave him a cool smile, got to her feet, and picked up her little pistol.
“Let’s go into the living room,” she said. “The chairs are more comfortable there.”
She had a point. The wooden kitchen chairs did not invite extended sitting. He collected his own gun and followed her into the living room, enjoying the cozy feel of the small house. The floral upholstery on the sofa and chairs was badly faded and so were the curtains, but it was obvious that Adelaide had repainted. The walls were a smoky shade of green that reminded him of the inside of an avocado. The deep purple trim around the doors and windows could have been stripped off the outside of an eggplant.
A recent issue of Life magazine and a novel sat on the coffee table in front of the cushioned sofa. A bookmark was positioned in the middle of the book.
Adelaide came to a halt in the center of the room and looked around. Jake got the impression that she was trying to figure out what to do with him. Her gaze fell on the card table near the bookcase. She brightened.
“We could play cards,” she said.
He smil
“Not if it involves money. I don’t have enough to risk. But I’ve got a box of seashells we can use for wagers.”
“That will work.” He glanced at the book on the table. “I see you’re reading the new Cooper Boone spy novel.”
“Deception Island. Yes, it just came out. I love the way Cooper Boone travels to mysterious places around the world and confronts dangerous villains. Did you read the first one, Code Name: Arcane?”
“I did, as a matter of fact.”
“What did you think?”
“All that stuff about villains with secret island fortresses, weird art collections, and strange weapons isn’t exactly realistic.”
Adelaide gave him a steely smile. “That’s probably why they call it fiction.”
For the first time in a very long while, he laughed. Adelaide looked as surprised as he was.
Chapter 15
They were both still awake when the first light of dawn seeped into the sky. Jake put down the last hand of cards.
“Gin,” he said. “You owe me three shells.”
Adelaide pushed the last of her shells across the table. She eyed the large stack on Jake’s side.
“You’re awfully good at cards,” she said.
“Sometimes I get lucky.” Jake pushed himself to his feet and stretched in a leisurely manner. He checked the gold watch on his wrist. “Time for me to go.”
“Won’t you stay for breakfast?” she said quickly. “Eggs and toast? It’s the least I can do under the circumstances.”
“Thanks, but I should be on my way. Wouldn’t want anyone passing by your house to see me leaving at this hour.”
“I doubt that anyone would notice. It’s not like I have a lot of neighbors. Just you and the summer visitors who rented the cottage at the other end of the beach. They’re only here on the weekends.”
She realized that at some point during the night she had become accustomed to his presence. A quiet intimacy had settled on them. Not that it had been a night of true confessions, she thought. Instead, they had talked of everything and nothing—the weather, the scandals of the stars rumored to be vacationing at the Burning Cove Hotel, the clever names of the teas and tisanes that she had invented to promote her special blends at Refresh, the rumors of war in Europe—but they had somehow arrived at a mutual agreement to respect each other’s secrets.
It wasn’t that they weren’t curious about each other, she realized, but for now, at least, they weren’t going to try to push past each other’s boundaries.
“No point causing gossip,” he said.
She smiled at that. “In this town people have genuine celebrity scandals to entertain them. I doubt if anyone would bother to gossip about us, but I understand the concern. I’ll try to find a locksmith today and see about installing better locks.”
She opened the kitchen door for Jake. A thick morning fog was rolling in off the ocean. It would be gone by noon but for now it cloaked the world in a weightless mist.
Jake stepped outside, took in the scene, and looked satisfied. “No one will see me leaving your place, not in this fog.”
“Are you sure you won’t stay for breakfast?”
He stopped and looked at her. He smiled. “You and the fog just talked me into it.”
“I’ll get the eggs going.”
“I’ll come back inside in a few minutes,” he said. “I want to take a look around the outside of the laundry room window and see if I can find any signs of the intruder.”
She tightened her grip on the doorknob. “And if you don’t find any evidence? Will you conclude that I imagined the whole thing?”
He paused at the edge of the back porch. “Regardless of what I find or don’t find, I believe you had excellent reasons to conclude that someone broke into your house last night. I don’t think your imagination got the better of you. I don’t think you were suffering from bad nerves. Are we clear on that?”
She relaxed. “Yes. Thank you.”
She stepped back into the kitchen, closed the door, and crossed to the stove. She picked up the cast-iron pan and put it on a burner.
The telephone on the wall rang just as she started cracking eggs into a bowl. Startled, she dropped one of the eggs. It broke on the green tile countertop.
It’s just the telephone. Get hold of yourself, woman.
But she could not think of a single person who would call her at such an early hour.
Paranoia is a sign of mental instability.
She reminded herself that she had just spent a sleepless night after discovering evidence that someone had invaded her home. She had a right to be jumpy.
She wiped her hands on her apron and picked up the receiver.
“Hello?” she asked, trying not to reveal her anxiety.
There was a short, startled pause, as if the caller had not expected the phone to be answered.
“Miss Brockton? Is that you?”
“Yes. Who is this?”
“Thelma Leggett, Madam Zolanda’s assistant. I realize I probably woke you. Please forgive me but I am absolutely desperate.”
Thelma did, indeed, sound frantic.
“What’s wrong?” Adelaide said.
“It’s Madam Zolanda. She’s in a terrible state. I think she’s having a nervous breakdown. She won’t come out of her room. She’s begging for some of the special tea that you blended for her—Enlightenment—but we’re out. Refresh doesn’t open until nine. I don’t dare wait that long. In any event, I’m afraid to leave her alone. In her present mood she might do herself some harm.”
“If she’s in such a bad way, you should call the doctor.”
“No, Madam Zolanda would be furious if I did that. She’d likely fire me. If you wouldn’t mind bringing me a fresh batch of her special blend, I would be very grateful. I assure you, I’ll make it worth your while. We’re staying in the villa at the end of Ocean View Lane. Do you know it?”
“Yes, but I really think you should call the doctor.”
“I just can’t risk it,” Thelma whispered. “It would mean my job. I really do think Madam Zolanda will be fine once she’s had a chance to calm down. Your tea works wonders for her. Please say you’ll bring some to the villa right away.”
Adelaide glanced at the wall clock. It was very early in the morning. She did the blending of the teas and tisanes in her own kitchen so she had everything she needed on hand. There was time to serve breakfast to Jake, prepare a packet of Enlightenment, and drop it off before she had to get dressed for work.
“All right,” she said. “I’ll be there within the hour.”
“Can’t you make it sooner?” Thelma pleaded. “This is an emergency.”
The phone went dead before Adelaide could say anything else. She replaced the receiver and stood very still, trying to decide how to handle the situation.
The kitchen door opened. Startled yet again, she swung around a little too quickly. The edge of her hand caught a spoon on the counter and sent it clattering onto the brick-red linoleum floor. The lack of sleep was taking a toll. She was on edge today.
Jake walked into the room, looking grim. He was holding something in his right hand.
“What is it?” she asked a little too sharply. “Did you find something?”
He opened his hand to display two cigarette butts and a nearly empty matchbook. “I found these behind the garage. Looks like the bastard smoked at least a couple of cigarettes while he waited last night.”
It took a few beats before she grasped the full meaning of his words. “While he waited?” she finally managed. “You think there was someone out here all night?”
“There’s no way to know how long he watched this cottage. We didn’t hear a car coming or going during the night, but that isn’t surprising, not if he parked some dista
She stared at him. “The scene? As in, the scene of a crime?”
He ignored that. “I think he got into the house and had a good look around while you were gone. Then he went outside to wait until you returned. He knew you were with me. He was stuck until I left. I think the plan was to wait until you turned off the lights and went to bed before he went back into the house. But you didn’t go to bed. Instead, you turned on all the lights.”
“And you came running to see what was wrong and stayed with me the rest of the night,” she concluded. “It doesn’t make any sense. Why would he enter the house while I was gone and then go back outside to wait for me to go to bed?”
“Got a feeling,” Jake said, “that he went into the house to familiarize himself with the layout so that when he went back inside in the dark, he would know exactly where he was going and how he would get out in a hurry. It’s a small place so there was nowhere for him to hide inside until you went to bed.”
“How can you possibly know that?” she asked.
“Just seems logical.”
It was the truth, she thought, but not the whole truth. She was very sure that what Jake had left unsaid was, It’s what I would have done. Probably best not to press the matter, she decided.
She looked at the damning cigarette butts and the matchbook. “It wasn’t some transient who was after food.”
“No,” Jake said. “I don’t think it was a burglar, either. If I’m right—and for now, at least, we had better assume that I am—whoever left these cigarette butts is stalking you the way a predator stalks prey.”
Chapter 16
The villa on Ocean View Lane was an extravagant, Hollywood fantasy version of a mansion done in the Spanish colonial revival style. The residence, with its high ceilings and decorative parapets, rose three stories above the walled grounds.