Page 118 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

Based on the description of Helen Spencer’s murder, Oliver had been almost certain that the killer preferred to use a knife, not only because it made less noise but because he liked his work. But it hadn’t really mattered which weapon Enright chose to use.

Willie had been briefed on her role, and she had performed it brilliantly. Just like old times, Oliver thought. He had a sneaking hunch that Willie had enjoyed herself.

Some of the guests had witnessed Irene following the stretcher into the back of the ambulance. She appeared to be sobbing hysterically. Persuading the ambulance crew to make a practice run to the villa that night was simple enough. Oliver had told the hospital authorities that he wanted to test the hotel’s emergency response system. He had also offered a hefty donation to the hospital and paid the driver and attendants for their time.

It had all been an elaborate show for an audience of one, but until the curtain rose there had been no way to be certain that the killer would attend the performance.

Oliver had tried to persuade Irene not to accompany Luther and him on the Cliff Road chase, but there was no talking her out of it.

“He’s picking up speed again,” Luther said. “I think he’s spotted us.”

“He can’t know it’s us,” Irene said. “He thinks Oliver is dead or very badly hurt.”

“He’s smart,” Luther said. “Maybe he’s starting to realize he’s been tricked.”

“If that’s the case, he’ll start taking even more chances,” Oliver said. “That would be good.”

Luther glanced at him. “You did say he was the impulsive type.”

Oliver accelerated gently.

Up ahead the lights of the stolen car appeared briefly in the fog before vanishing around another curve.

Chapter 55

Julian got only the smallest of warnings—a slight mushiness in the previously very crisp steering.

He was driving Oliver Ward’s car. A real engineering marvel. There couldn’t be a problem with the steering. It wasn’t possible.

Ward had tricked him once tonight but there was no way the magician could have known that he would take the custom-built car.

No one would dare steal Oliver Ward’s car.

No one except me.

He went into the next curve too fast. He stomped on the brakes and had to overcorrect with the steering. The tires shrieked.

The brakes and the steering suddenly went to mush. He was going into a turn much too fast. He had no control.

In the next horrifying instant, the fastest car in California was airborne, sailing over the high cliffs.

He had just enough time to realize that this time he had underestimated the target, that there was no exit strategy.

He screamed, just as so many of his targets had screamed. He wanted to beg for his life but there was no one to hear him.

His last conscious thought was that he could not be hurtling toward his own death. It was not possible. No target could fool him. He was Julian Enright.

Chapter 56

Oliver accelerated out of a turn and realized that he could not see the lights of the Cord.

Luther said, “He may have found a side road.”

“There aren’t any near here,” Oliver said.

“It’s possible he’s way ahead of us,” Irene said.

Black skid marks came up in the Oldsmobile’s headlights.

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