Page 27 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“Why do you think she dragged me here to Burning Cove? Why not speak to me in L.A.?”

Nick closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, she could have sworn she glimpsed some deep, wrenching emotion.

He’s an actor,she reminded herself.

“You want the truth, Miss Glasson? I’ll give it to you. But I’m hoping you won’t print it. As I said, I think she planned to tell you something that would make me look bad. But I have a feeling that she intended to take her own life after she met with you, or, more likely, stage such an attempt. She wanted the whole act to take place here at the Burning Cove Hotel because she knew that I was staying here. She knew that there would be a scandal that could easily damage my reputation. Andthanks to that piece you wrote forWhispers, that is exactly what is happening. I’ve become the subject of a lot of baseless rumors and speculation.”

Neatly done, Irene thought. Nick Tremayne was playing his role brilliantly. He had concocted a script that made her look guilty of using the power of the gossip press to hound an innocent man.

It might have worked if she hadn’t found Peggy Hackett’s body a week ago.

She jotted down a few meaningless scribbles in her notebook, aware that Nick was watching intently. When she looked up without warning, he narrowed his eyes a little. She knew he was trying to figure out if he had given a convincing performance.

“That is all very interesting, Mr. Tremayne,” she said. She snapped the notebook closed. “But it leaves me with the same question I had when I agreed to this interview.”

“What?” he asked.

There was an edge on the single word.

“I still have no idea what Gloria Maitland planned to tell me.” She rose from the table. “Now you must excuse me. I have a few more people to interview.”

Nick leaped to his feet. She could have sworn that he started to reach across the table, perhaps to grab her wrist and force her to stay. But in the next heartbeat he had himself under control.

He smiled, startling her. His eyes warmed.

“I appreciate your time, Miss Glasson,” he said very earnestly. “I hope you’ll at least consider my side of things before you write another piece forWhispers.”

“Definitely.”

He lowered his voice and infused it with meaningful intensity.

“I had nothing to do with Gloria Maitland’s accident last night,” he said. “All I’m asking is thatWhispersprints the truth. If it does I will be very... grateful.”

She angled her head slightly as though she hadn’t heard him clearly.

“Grateful?” she repeated.

“My career took off withFortune’s Rogue. As a result, I am besieged with requests for interviews. Let’s just say that I am now in a position to pick and choose which reporters get the real inside information regarding my career and my personal life. Naturally I’ll tell my publicist that I will only talk to the members of the press I know I can trust.”

She gave him her most winning smile. “No need to make threats, Mr. Tremayne. Your assistant already did that for you.”

“I wasn’t threatening you.”

“Yes, you were.” She turned to go and then stopped.

“One more thing,” she said, trying to make it sound as if a last-minute thought had just occurred to her. “Would you care to comment on why you refused to talk to my predecessor?”

“What?” He looked wary now.

“Peggy Hackett. I’m sure you remember her. She was a reporter forWhispers. She tried to schedule an interview with you shortly before she suffered an unfortunate accident and drowned. An interesting coincidence, don’t you think? Two women associated with you have recently drowned. You’re sure you don’t have a comment?”

For a beat he looked as if he had been struck by lightning. An unnatural stillness came over him.

It was all over in the next instant. He gave her a pitying look, as if she were not very intelligent.

“I have no idea what you mean, Miss Glasson,” he said. “I had no relationship of any kind with Peggy Hackett. Everyone knows that she was a washed-up drunk. The studio publicist mentioned that she had begged for an interview but it never happened. The publicist turned her down cold.”

“Did Gloria Maitland speak to Hackett?”

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