Chapter 11
I knew this was going to be a problem,” Nick said. “I explained that to the man who asked me to deliver the message. His name is Luther Pell, by the way.”
Vivian looked as if he had just handed her a live grenade. He didn’t blame her. He had a few modest talents but they did not include a gift for delivering bad news in a tactful, nonthreatening manner. He wasn’t a doctor or a member of the clergy or a funeral director. He was not very good at cloaking hard truths in soothing euphemisms. He was a private investigator. He dealt in facts. He viewed every case as a chaotic puzzle to be solved. When the pieces had been identified and put together properly, he went on to the next case.
One thing was certain—this job was getting complicated fast because Vivian was not the only one who was having a few problems coping with a sudden, unsettling turn of events. A blast of sensations had jolted his senses when she opened her door a moment ago. He had been made forcibly aware of the fact that he had been living what could only be described as a monastic life since Patricia had left.
Sure, part of it was the raw power of physical attraction. There was a hell of a lot of it, at least on his end, and it was easily explained by nearly a year of abstinence. But there was something else going on and he needed to figure it out fast because it was having a devastating effect on his sense of inner balance. He really needed the sense of control. He depended on it. Sometimes he worried that it was the only thing that anchored him in the world. Well, that and Rex.
Vivian Brazier was attractive but not in the traditional sense. Her features were too striking, too bold, too intriguing. Too compelling. The effect was definitely more than skin-deep. If she lived to be a hundred she would still be a fascinating woman.
Her high-waisted trousers and black silk shirt emphasized her slim, graceful frame. A couple of combs anchored her whiskey-brown hair behind her ears, framing mysterious, unreadable green eyes. She watched him in a way that warned him she saw things other people never noticed. They were the eyes of a woman who viewed the world from a different dimension.
The smile she had given him when she had answered the door, polite and professional though it was, had sent a thrill of delight across his senses. Now he was aware of a deep, prowling curiosity; a need to learn more about Vivian Brazier.
“I don’t know this Luther Pell,” Vivian said.
Rex leaned forward far enough to put his head in the vicinity of Vivian’s right hand. She glanced down at him, frowning a little. Then she reluctantly gave him a couple of pats. Rex grinned a wolfish grin and inched a little closer to Vivian.
“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve never met Pell, either,” Nick said. He paused and then decided there was no point keeping the truth from her. “He owns a nightclub in Burning Cove. There are rumors that he’s got mob connections.”
“That’s not exactly a resounding testimonial.”
“I know. But my uncle says Pell also has connections with the FBIand with a certain clandestine government agency. Evidently Pell used to run an intelligence operation during the Great War. All I can tell you is that Uncle Pete trusts him, and that’s enough for me to take this threat seriously.”
“Well, it’s not nearly enough for me to believe what you’re saying.”
“You’ve got every reason to be cautious,” he said. “But if you will call a homicide detective named Archer at the Adelina Beach police station, he will vouch for me.”
“Detective Archer knows you?” Vivian asked warily.
“No, but he knows Luther Pell. They both served in the War. Why don’t you go inside, Miss Brazier, and make the call? Lock your door. I’ll wait out here until you’re satisfied that I’m not dangerous.”
Vivian eyed him with a considering look. “Does this have something to do with the Dagger Killer?”
He had already figured out that she was a very smart woman, he reminded himself.
“That,” he said, “is a very interesting question. What makes you ask?”
“It’s not as if I’ve got a long history of people trying to kill me. My only experience in that regard occurred about three weeks ago. Now here you are on my front step telling me that someone wants me dead. It strikes me that if there is no connection to the Dagger Killer, we’re discussing an amazing coincidence.”
He nodded, pleased that her reasoning paralleled his. “Strikes me that way, too. But I don’t know the answer yet. Until I do, we should not leap to conclusions. Make the phone call, Miss Brazier. Then I’ll tell you what I do know.”
Another muscular young man, tanned, and with a mane of blond hair, appeared on the beach path walking toward Vivian’s cottage. He was dressed for an exercise workout in a pair of swim trunks that looked about two sizes too small.
“Hi, Miss Brazier,” he called. He glanced at Nick. “I know I’m a little early for my sitting but I don’t mind waiting.”
Vivian seized on the interruption. “You’re right on time, Sam, but I have to make a phone call. It’s a personal matter. Why don’t you wait out here with Mr. Sundridge and his dog? As soon as I’m finished with the call we can get started on your portrait.”
“Sure.” Sam gave Nick an easygoing smile and extended one heavily muscled arm to shake hands. “I’m Sam Higgins. I’m a lifeguard.”
“Nick Sundridge.” Nick shook hands. “Traveling salesman.”
It was, he decided, as good an explanation for his presence in Vivian’s front yard as anything else.
Vivian bolted into the house and slammed the front door. Nick winced when he heard the muffled thud of the dead bolt sliding home.
Sam gave Nick another smile. “Salesman, huh? My pop was in sales up in Seattle. His company went under when the bad times hit so we moved down here to California. Pop’s selling magazine subscriptions door-to-door now.”
