Page 39 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Both men nodded politely at Irene.

“Mr. Pell said you’d be along,” Joe said. “The boss is waiting for you upstairs in his private quarters. Need an escort?”

“I know the way, thanks,” Oliver said.

Ned pulled open one half of the big gate. Oliver steered Irene into the walled garden.

She stopped short at the sight of the fairyland that surrounded theclub. Small electric lights sparkled amid the lush greenery and illuminated a graceful fountain.

Oliver was amused. “Not quite what you expected, I take it?”

“Well, no,” she admitted. “I imagined an old, remodeled speakeasy joint with an entrance in some dark alley.”

“Years ago Pell’s father, Jonathan Pell, made a great deal of money running gambling halls, taverns, and clubs in London. He retired young and moved the family to America. Figured it was the land of opportunity, a place where he could bury his shady past and get respectable. He invested heavily in the stock market.”

“Of course. They said you couldn’t lose.”

“After the old man got wiped out in twenty-nine, Luther took over the finances.”

“He decided that the best way to recover was to go back into the original family business?”

“Right. He operated a number of speakeasies during the dry spell. After repeal, he bought a Reno casino. He also has a gambling ship anchored in Santa Monica Bay. But the Paradise Club is his star property. It’s also his home.”

“He lives in a nightclub?”

“I live on the grounds of a hotel.”

“True, but somehow that doesn’t seem quite so... unusual.”

“Luther and I like to keep a close eye on our investments.”

“I see. You know, I can’t help but notice that some of these men might be carrying guns.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do your security guards carry weapons?”

“No,” Oliver said. “I operate a hotel, not a nightclub. The last thing I want on the grounds of the Burning Cove is gunplay.”

“I take your point.”

“I’m not a fan of guns,” he added. “They give people who carry them a false sense of security. Guns tend to jam when you need them most.In addition, it can be extremely difficult to hit a moving target, especially under stressful conditions.”

Obviously he felt quite strongly about the matter. She decided not to mention that she was carrying Helen’s little gun in her handbag.

Oliver stopped in front of another stout wrought iron gate and pressed the button on the intercom.

“Ward and Miss Glasson here to see Mr. Pell,” he said.

A deep masculine voice rendered somewhat scratchy by the device responded.

“Welcome, Mr. Ward,” the voice said. “I’ll be right down to let you in.”

“Thanks, Blake.”

Oliver released the button. “Blake runs Pell’s household.”

“A butler?”

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