“Virtually nothing helpful. He said that no one seems to have any idea why I’m in danger but he was adamant that this Luther Pell person can be trusted. Pell told him the threat appears to be real and that you’ve got the qualifications needed to keep me safe while Pell and his consultant try to figure out who wants to kill me.”
“Pell’s consultant is my uncle Pete. He was a cipher expert, a code breaker during the War and for a few years afterward. I’m afraid it isn’t just a matter of identifying and stopping the killer.” Nick paused for emphasis. “We have to identify the individual who hired the assassin.”
“I don’t know what to think. This is all just so bizarre.”
She sounded bewildered as well as unnerved.
Rex’s ears pricked. He padded across the room, rested his head on her thigh, and looked up at her. Absently she put a hand on his head and stroked behind his ears. Rex got a blissful expression.
“I shouldn’t have broken the news to you the way I did,” Nick said. “In my own defense I’d just like to say that I’m not sure there is a good way to tell someone that her life is in danger.”
“Detective Archer also assured me that you were indeed an investigator and that, although some people consider you rather odd and eccentric, you are neither crazy nor criminally insane.”
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear that.”
“I do not find this situation amusing,” she said. “I simply cannot fathom why someone would want to have me murdered.”
“If this threat is not connected to the Dagger Killer,” he said carefully, “there is one other possibility that we should consider.”
“What?” Vivian straightened in her chair and widened her hands in a gesture of futility. “Do you think one of my clients is unhappy with his or her portrait? That’s ridiculous.”
“I understand that you’re an heiress. In my experience, money is frequently a motive for murder.”
She looked even more stunned than she had when he had told herabout the threat to her life. After a moment she pulled herself together and shook her head, conviction radiating from her.
“No,” she said. “The only person who stands to gain financially if I were to die would be my sister. Trust me, it’s absolutely inconceivable that Lyra would do anything to hurt me.”
Nick considered briefly and then set the matter aside. He had learned early on that there was an astonishing amount of naïveté in the world.
“Are you and your sister the only heirs listed in the will?”
Her eyes widened. “I’m not sure. I’ve never seen my father’s will.”
The doorbell chimed.
“That’s my next client,” Vivian said.
“I’ll let him in.”
Vivian shot to her feet and flattened her palms on the desk. “Excuse me, this is my house and my place of business. I will greet the client.”
“It occurs to me that it would be exceptionally easy for a killer to gain entry to your house and your place of business by simply making an appointment to have his picture taken.”
“This is nonsense. I really don’t think—”
The bell chimed again. Nick motioned to Rex. Together they left the office and went into the front hall.
Yet another exceedingly muscular and robust specimen of manhood stood on the front step. He looked to be about twenty years old. At least this one was partially dressed in a sports shirt, trousers, and sunglasses. The shirt was unbuttoned to the waist, displaying a lot of sculpted chest.
When Nick opened the door, the young man appeared startled but he quickly recovered.
“You must be the photographer’s assistant,” he said. “I’m Eric. I’ve got an appointment to pick up the photos that Miss Brazier took of me a few days ago.”
“Wait here, please,” Nick said. “I’ll let Miss Brazier know that you’ve arrived.”
Eric eyed Rex and retreated a couple of steps.
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll wait out here.”
