Arthur stared at Sam, stunned. “How?”
“I found the pistol in your desk drawer when I searched your office last night,” Sam said. “Seemed like a good idea to remove the cartridges. I was reasonably certain you wouldn’t think to check the pistol, because you’re sloppy and impulsive. Not good with details.”
Arthur roared, a primal scream of rage. He jerked free of the officers’ grip, seized the iron poker from the stand on the hearth, and charged Sam.
“Shit,” Sam said. “Not again.”
He dove for the carpet. The poker punched the air overhead. Arthur was thrown off balance when he missed his target. He tried frantically to recover and swing the poker. Sam grabbed one of his ankles and yanked him off his feet. He landed hard on the tile floor.
The officers seized him and wrestled him into handcuffs.
Brandon looked at Sam. “You said odds were good he’d try to make a run for it when he realized he’d lost control of the situation today. Doesn’t look like that’s what happened.”
“What can I tell you?” Sam brushed off his trousers and straightened his tie. “It’s been a screwy case from the start.”
“Maybe you should stick with divorce work.”
“I’ve been advised not to take those jobs.”
“Yeah?” Brandon eyed him. “Who told you that?”
“Aunt Cornelia.”
Brandon nodded. “My wife says you can’t go wrong with Aunt Cornelia’s advice.”
Chapter 49
What is it with you and household furnishings?” Maggie asked. “First a coatrack and now a poker.”
“I’m not sure what’s going on,” Sam said. He drank some iced tea and settled deeper into the cushions of the lounge chair. “But when we get back to Adelina Beach, I think I’ll get rid of any item that could be used to crack my skull. No point taking chances.”
They were reclining side by side on the private patio of a guest villa at the legendary Burning Cove Hotel. The secluded suite at the luxury resort had been provided courtesy of Luther Pell, whose connections apparently included not only high-ranking figures in the underworld but also the management of the hotel.
Maggie had made the decision to accept the invitation to spend a couple of extra days in Burning Cove, and Sam was determined to enjoy every minute of it. He had no idea what would happen when they returned to Adelina Beach, but for now he was living a real-life dream with Maggie.
The morning fog had burned off. The scent of citrus trees waftedon the warm breeze. Palms shaded the grounds. He and Maggie had reservations for dinner at the hotel restaurant. Later they would take a taxi to the Paradise Club, where they would join Luther Pell and Raina Kirk for drinks and dancing.
This was the fantasy of Southern California life, the dream the studios and the resorts and the travel agencies sold to the rest of the country and the world. It was, Sam thought, a damn good fantasy—it felt real—but it wouldn’t have worked without the woman beside him.
Life was good—for now. But the future was in Adelina Beach, and he wasn’t sure what to expect when reality descended. He had to find a way to keep Maggie close. He needed a plan.
Maggie picked up her glass of iced tea. “Call me psychic, but I have a feeling your previous unfortunate encounter with furniture—the coatrack incident—is somehow connected to the reason you decided to open a private investigation agency in Adelina Beach.”
“Lucky guess,” he said.
“Intuition,” she said.
“Okay, maybe intuition.”
“I told you how I wound up in Adelina Beach. Feel like telling me how you got there?”
He went silent for a moment, sorting through the bits and pieces of the past that he stored in his personal mental attic.
“It’s messy,” he warned.
“So was my story, if you will recall.”
“I told you I used to be a homicide cop in L.A. I led a small team that rescued a woman who had been kidnapped for ransom. Elizabeth was the daughter of a wealthy industrialist. Afterward she decided I was a hero. I liked being one. It didn’t hurt that she was beautiful and glamorous and exciting.”
