by Amanda Quick
Still, the thought of coming face-to-face with Vaughn this afternoon had made him very nervous. But now the moment had arrived and it was clear that she did not have a clue as to his identity. Eugene suppressed another giggle. She had actually smiled at him. She did not know it yet, but the two of them shared an intimate connection. She belonged to him.
This was so much more gratifying than poring over the press clippings and advertising posters that featured her picture. Standing less than ten feet away and knowing that he held her life in his hands and that her final flight would be for him and him alone was incredibly intoxicating.
Mummy Mask was one scary son of a bitch but he was also a very smart guy, maybe even smarter than Marcus Harding. Mummy Mask understood why Eugene liked to watch a girl fly to her death. It was the ultimate circus act.
Eugene had hoped that Vaughn would conduct the tour but another woman, a pretty blonde who said her name was Willa, took charge.
“You are standing in what used to be the living room of the mansion,” Willa said. “It was here in this richly paneled and elegantly furnished room that Madam Zolanda drank a pitcher of martinis before she went up onto the roof. You will note the fine furniture that is now enjoyed by guests of the Hidden Beach Inn. Many of the pieces were imported from Europe. The crystal chandelier overhead came all the way from Ireland and is considered priceless . . .”
Eugene shuffled forward with the rest of the gawkers. He did not give a damn about the fancy furniture and the big chandelier. He was here because his new partner had insisted that he take the tour in order to get a good look at the inside of the house. The idea, according to Mummy Mask, was that if he got an idea of the layout of the inn, he would know where he was going when he came back to grab the Princess. It was just the kind of thing Marcus would have suggested.
Yep, Mummy Mask was smart, so fucking smart that as soon as he had found the bundles of press clippings in the suitcase, he had figured out that Eugene had been Harding’s partner. Mummy Mask had put it all together in a matter of seconds.
Terrified, Eugene had first denied the connection to Harding. But when Mummy Mask had laughed and said he understood how thrilling the final performances of the flyers must have been, Eugene realized that he had found another kindred spirit. The guy in the mask was like Marcus Harding, only so much smarter.
“If you will follow me up the stairs, I will show you Madam Zolanda’s bedroom, where you will see her costumes arranged just as she left them on the night of her death,” Willa said, leading the way toward a grand staircase. “We will also visit the room of the doomed inventor who dared to play Frankenstein.”
Two figures appeared on the balcony, heading for the stairs. The man in front was elegantly attired and possessed a famous face. The crowd gasped in excitement. There was no mistaking Vincent Hyde. Eugene was as thrilled as everyone else. A real live movie star was staying at the Psychic Curse Mansion.
Hyde was followed at a respectful distance by a heavily tattooed man dressed in a leather vest studded with metal, black trousers, and leather boots. His shaved head gleamed in the light.
Willa never missed a beat. She beamed at Hyde.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Hyde,” she said. “I trust you are enjoying your stay here at the Hidden Beach Inn.”
“I find the atmosphere in this place electrifying,” Vincent said. “And the food is excellent.”
The actor sounded just like he did in the movies, Eugene thought. As if he had spoken from somewhere inside a crypt.
“Can I have your autograph, Mr. Hyde?” a woman asked. She rummaged around in her purse. “I have a matchbook you could sign.”
“Please, Mr. Hyde,” a young man pleaded. “If you could sign a napkin or something I could give to my girlfriend, she’d think I was a real hero.”
Everyone in the tour group was now clamoring for Hyde’s autograph. Eugene searched his jacket, trying to find a scrap of paper. It wasn’t every day you got this close to a Hollywood star. His fingers brushed against the black necklace that was coiled like a snake in one of his pockets. The feel of the glass beads jolted him back to reality. He was on a mission today. Priorities.
Vincent Hyde raised one long-fingered hand. The crowd on the stairs immediately fell silent, awestruck by the simple gesture of command. Eugene thought Hyde looked amused.
“Enough,” Hyde intoned. “I’m going downstairs to read the paper and have a cup of tea in the very elegant lobby of this fine establishment. When you finish the tour I will be happy to sign autographs for everyone who wants one.”
There was a chorus of grateful thank-yous. Hyde and the tattooed guy in leather continued on down the stairs. The tour group watched breathlessly as the star descended into the lobby and lowered himself into a big chair near the hearth.
An older woman wearing a turban appeared from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea things and a folded newspaper. She set the tray on an end table next to Hyde’s chair. Hyde thanked her with a gracious smile. Then he looked at the crowd gazing at him from the foot of the staircase.
“Enjoy the tour,” he said. “I think you will find that Madam Zolanda’s room is haunted. There is no mistaking the ghostly energy in there.”
Chapter 42
Luther studied the putting green with the steely-eyed expression of a general assessing the ground on which the battle would be fought.
“We need to move fast,” he said. “If Smith decides that he can’t get his hands on those rotors, he’ll cut his losses and disappear. If he leaves the country, we might never get another shot at him.”
“The Ares machine has got to be the biggest deal he’s ever done,” Matthias said. “He won’t abandon the project unless he’s absolutely sure it’s a total failure. It’s not just about the money, not this time.”
And it wasn’t a round of golf that had brought them to the golf course, Matthias thought, although it was a perfect afternoon and the greens were as smooth as velvet. The appeal of a golf course was that two men could talk openly about matters of national security and murder without fear of being overheard. He and Luther needed a plan, and they needed it immediately.
Luther tapped the ball very gently, sending it into the cup. Straightening, he looked at Matthias. “Delivering the cipher machine into the hands of the enemy is Smith’s idea of revenge, his way of telling the men running his old agency back in D.C. to go to hell. I’m sure he’s willing to take risks, but he’s not suicidal. If he decides he can’t get those rotors, he’ll fade back into the shadows.”
Matthias thought about that while they walked toward the next tee.
“If we chase him, we’ll lose him,” he said. “We need to make him come to us. The only way to do that is to use the rotors as bait.”
“Can’t exactly put an ad in the Herald. Need cipher machine rotors? Call now for free estimate.”
“Huh.”
Luther glanced at him. “What?”
“We’re a couple of mob guys, remember? We steal stuff. Why wouldn’t Smith believe that we’d be happy to do a deal for the rotors with whoever will meet our price?”
Luther gazed into the distance. He looked like he was contemplating his next shot but Matthias knew he was focused on the kernel of a plan.
“I can use the Broker to put the word out on the street,” he said. “If Smith is as desperate as we think he is, he just might take the bait.”
“If he does, we’ll be dealing with the same problem that got Pickwell killed. The most dangerous part of the operation will be the moment when the transaction takes place.”
Luther smiled. “We’re mobsters. We know how to do deals like this one.”
Chapter 43
Amalie waited until the tour group had disappeared into the conservatory for tea and cookies before she emerged from behind the front desk. Nearly overwhelmed with gratitude, she approached Vincent Hyde.
/> Vincent looked up. “Miss Vaughn. Congratulations on the success of your new tour program. It appears to have been a stroke of publicity genius.”
“Thanks in large part to you, Mr. Hyde. It was very gracious of you to offer to give everyone on the tour an autograph when they came back downstairs.”
“Not at all.” Vincent winked. “We are both well served by your brilliant idea. You will get some good word of mouth going about your inn and I will have yet another opportunity to get my name in the papers again.”
Amalie smiled. “I’m sure the Herald will mention that everyone on the first tour got to meet you and that you were kind enough to give each of them an autograph.”
Vincent chuckled. “I think I can guarantee you that the news of the success of your tour and the fact that I was seen handing out autographs like Halloween candy will also appear in Lorraine Pierce’s column tomorrow. A good day’s work for both of us, hmm?”
“I certainly hope so.” Amalie started to retreat to her post behind the front desk. “Thank you, again, for being so nice to the tour group.”
“Believe me, Miss Vaughn, I am delighted to be able to sign autographs. That is one of the reasons why I chose to stay here rather than the Burning Cove Hotel. As I’m sure you know, management at that resort does not allow anyone on the premises who is not actually registered there. And it has a strict ban on journalists.”
“The Burning Cove Hotel has established a reputation as an exclusive resort that promises privacy to its guests.”
“That is all very well if one actually seeks privacy, Miss Vaughn. I, however, am an aging actor who is trying to refloat a sinking reputation. I am in desperate need of fans and publicity.”
It may have been the truth but Amalie was shocked to hear Vincent admit it.
“You saw the way that tour group responded to you, Mr. Hyde,” she said. “They were thrilled.”
“Trust me, in the old days—say, a year and a half ago—they would have been screaming for autographs, not simply requesting them. No, Miss Vaughn, I have to be realistic about my future. Everything depends on me getting the lead in Nightmare Lane. I cannot afford another disaster like A Garden in Winter.”
“I’m sure your next movie will be a box office smash,” Amalie said.
Vincent picked up the Herald. “If it is a success, I will owe you and your inn a debt of gratitude. You have provided me with more publicity in the past week than I’ve had in the past six months.”
Amalie smiled. “Happy to be of service, Mr. Hyde.”
The sound of Matthias’s car in the drive distracted her. She hurried back to the front desk, determined to maintain at least the façade of professionalism. The entire town, including Vincent Hyde, had no doubt concluded that she was a mobster’s floozy, but she did not intend to add fuel to the fires of gossip.
Matthias came through the door a moment later. He had a bag of golf clubs slung over one shoulder. She was eager to hear what he and Luther Pell had discussed on the golf course, but she couldn’t ask any questions now, not with Vincent Hyde sitting a short distance away.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Jones,” she said in her most professional tone. “I hope you enjoyed a pleasant round of golf.”
“It was an excellent game,” Matthias said. “I noticed a lot of cars and bicycles parked out front. I assume that means you got a good turnout for the first tour. I hope there’s some shortbread left. I need sustenance.”
She knew by the heat in his eyes that something very important had been discovered inside Futuro.
“The tour group is enjoying the tea and cookies,” she said, “but I’m sure there are a few extra in the kitchen. I’ll bring them out to you.”
“Thanks.” Matthias nodded at Vincent. “Hello, Hyde. I’m surprised to see you here this afternoon. Thought you’d be having drinks with one of your Hollywood friends at the Burning Cove Hotel.”
“An actor doesn’t have friends,” Vincent said. “He has rivals and competitors.”
Matthias nodded amiably. “I know what you mean.”
“Yes, I imagine you do,” Vincent said. He looked amused. “The situation is no doubt much the same in your profession.”
“Hard to know who to trust these days,” Matthias agreed.
“Mr. Hyde was kind enough to sign autographs for everyone in the tour group,” Amalie said. “His fans were very excited.”
Matthias raised his brows. “I see. Looks like your cursed mansion tour idea is working out well for both you and Hyde.”
“One takes publicity where one can find it,” Vincent said.
Chapter 44
“You don’t have a plan,” Amalie declared. “What you’ve got is a crazy, dangerous scheme. So many things could go wrong. You and Luther Pell are out of your minds. You’ll both get killed.”
She and Matthias were in the front seat of the Packard. The sleek car was parked in the otherwise empty lot above a secluded beach. The top was down, the evening was balmy, and there was a nearly full moon. It was a setting that would have been perfect for a romantic movie, she thought, maybe one featuring Cary Grant. But Matthias had just described a scene from a film that sounded as if it had been written for Cagney, or maybe Edward G. Robinson, one that involved a ruthless and desperate gangster armed with a lot of guns.
“Just to be clear,” Matthias said, “Luther and me getting killed isn’t part of the plan.”
“Wow. I’m really happy to hear that, of course. Tell me, what makes you think that Smith will fall for this scheme you and Luther have concocted?”
“There is every reason to believe that Smith is a desperate man.”
“You don’t know that.” Amalie spread her hands apart. “You don’t even know who he is.”
“We don’t know his identity, but we know a lot about him,” Matthias said. “It’s a little like understanding how a cipher machine is wired. Once you figure it out, you’ve got a shot at deciphering a message that is encrypted by the device.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Amalie asked quietly.
“If we’re wrong, Smith won’t take the bait,” Matthias said. “He’ll disappear again.”
Amalie contemplated the moonlit ocean. “You think he’ll take the bait, don’t you?”
“If Luther is right about him, he won’t be able to resist,” Matthias said.
“Desperate men are very dangerous. Also unpredictable.”
“I feel like a walk on the beach. How about you?”
She did not want to let him out of her sight, not until she knew he was safe, and maybe not then, either. The more she thought about it the more certain she was that she wanted him close for as long as she could hold on to him.
“A walk sounds good,” she said.
He got out from behind the wheel, went to the back of the car, and opened the trunk. When he came around to her side of the vehicle to open her door, she saw that he had a blanket tucked under one arm.
“I thought we were going to walk,” she said, indicating the blanket.
“This is just in case we find ourselves exhausted by the hike.”
“Must be the engineer in you,” she said, slipping out of the seat.
His fingers closed firmly around her hand. “We are trained to plan ahead for all possible eventualities.”
They walked across the sand to the water’s edge. There they turned and made their way toward the rocky outcropping at the far end of the beach. The soft breeze stirred Amalie’s hair and played with the hem of her trousers. She did not want to talk about the past. The present, with its dangerous scheme to draw Smith out of hiding, had already been discussed. That left the most uncertain topic of all—the future.
“When this situation involving the missing cipher machine is over, will you continue to do consulting work for Luther Pell’s company?” she asked.
“My p
arents, especially my mother, are pushing me to go home to Seattle and join the family firm.”
“You really don’t want to do that, do you?”
“The thing about my consulting work is that when I’m in the field I am my own boss. I make my own decisions. All Luther cares about is results. If I take the position at my family’s firm, it will be different. I won’t be able to use my talent the way I do now.”
“So you’ll continue taking assignments from Luther?”
“I like the kind of work I do for Luther but I’m tired of being on the road all the time. I’ve spent the past few years living out of suitcases and sleeping in hotel rooms. Some of those hotels were very nice but none of them feels like a home.”
“I spent most of my life on the road, too. I bunked in train cars, not in nice hotels, but it was fine. It was a life that allowed me to fly. I had friends and a family. It wasn’t until I bought the villa and turned it into an inn that I finally discovered what it was like to have a real home. Somewhere along the way I’ve come to realize that even if I could fly again I wouldn’t go back to the circus life. Burning Cove is where I want to be.”
“I love my Dad and I respect him, but it would not be a good idea for me to go to work for him,” Matthias said. “I think he knows that as well as I do. Pretty sure Mom knows it isn’t a good plan, too, but, well, she’s my mom.”
“Does she know that the consulting work you do is sometimes dangerous?”
“She knows and she understands but it makes her nervous. She’s more concerned about my talent, though. She’s afraid that it has made it impossible for me to ever find someone I can really trust, someone I can love. Someone with whom I can have a family. She’s afraid I’ll become a paranoid recluse.”
“Does she have a particular reason for believing that might happen?”