“Maybe.” Nick paused and then shrugged. “Something happened to one of the other reporters at that gossip rag she works for.”
“What, exactly, happened to the other reporter?”
“Slipped in the bathtub. Hit her head and drowned. It was an accident. The authorities said so.”
“But Miss Glasson believes otherwise?”
“I guess so,” Nick muttered. “Then there was another drowning.”
“I assume you mean the one that occurred here at the hotel.”
“Apparently Maitland planned to meet Glasson in the spa that night. Pretty sure she was going to feed Glasson some gossip about me. But Glasson told the cops that she found Maitland dead in the pool. Next thing I know there’s a hit piece on the front page ofWhisperslinking my name with Maitland’s. Reporters from papers clear across the country started calling the studio asking for interviews with me.”
“Under other circumstances that would be a good thing.”
Cold fingers touched the back of Nick’s neck. Enright sounded as if he didn’t understand the implications.
“This isn’t a joking matter, Enright. Glasson is trying to tie me to the accidental deaths of two women. If this story gets out of control, my career will be ruined.”
“Anything else I should know?” Julian asked.
He sounded almost bored now. Nick fought back the red tide of anger. He could not afford to lose his temper. He needed Julian Enright.
“There was another drowning last night,” he said. “A local gold digger named Daisy Jennings.”
“Did you know Jennings?”
“I fucked her once in the garden of the Paradise Club. That was the same night that Gloria Maitland drowned. Jennings was my alibi.”
“And now she’s dead?”
Nick hesitated. “It gets worse. Glasson and the magician found the body. Looks like Jennings intended to meet with that damned reporter.”
“Did Jennings have something on you?”
“No.”Nick struggled to contain his rage. “Look, your job is to keep Glasson from making more trouble, not dig into my sex life. Why don’t you go to work?”
“Thorough research is the key to success in my profession.”
“Yeah? What, exactly, is your profession?”
Julian smiled. “I’m the person people like Ogden call in when they discover that they can’t deal with a problem themselves. Now, then, are you sure you don’t have any idea what made Irene Glasson conclude that you were the cause of her colleague’s drowning accident?”
“I’m sure.”
There was no way that Irene Glasson could know about Betty Scott, Nick thought. It was impossible. Betty Scott was his past—hisburiedpast.
“There must have been some reason why she thinks you were responsible,” Julian continued in that same languid tone.
“All I can tell you is that the other reporter—the one who died—was asking around about me. Looking for anything she could find.”
“But you have no idea what she might have been searching for?”
Nick grunted. “No. None.”
He needed Enright but damned if he was going to spill his secrets to him.
“Interesting,” Julian mused.