She reached up to grip one of his hands. “I know you do.”

They stood quietly for a time.

“Sooner or later another womanwilldie,” she said after a while.

“You’re sure of that?”

“There’s a pattern.”

“One of the things I learned as a magician is that the mind can play tricks when it comes to seeing patterns. If we want to see them, we can usually find a way to do it. It’s human nature. There are a lot of illusions and effects that rely exclusively on that fact.”

She turned to face him. “Four women are dead. They’re all connected to Nick Tremayne in one way or another. That’s not an illusion, that’s a pattern.”

“You’ve been a little distracted lately.”

“That’s for sure.”

“Maybe it’s time to go back to the beginning and try to view everything in your notes with clear eyes,” he said. “Stop looking for the pattern you think you see.”

“What should I look for?”

“A new pattern.”

She thought about that. “Maybe you’re right. It’s not like I’ve got a better idea. I keep circling back to the question I’ve had from the beginning. Maybe starting over will give me a fresh perspective.”

“What’s the question?”

“Nick Tremayne’s name has been linked to several women in the two years he’s been in Hollywood. But only four of them have died under mysterious circumstances. My question is, what did they know that got them killed?”

“Good question.”

She put her arms around him. He wrapped her close and held her very tight.

Chapter 59

They ate breakfast on the patio—fresh melon, scrambled eggs, toast, and a large pot of coffee—all delivered as if by magic.

“I could get used to room service,” Irene said.

“It has its advantages,” Oliver said.

“So now we wait until the police confirm Enright’s identity and notify his family,” Irene said. “What if it turns out he was a fraud?”

“It’s possible that the man who went over the cliff in my car stole Julian Enright’s identity, but I doubt it,” Oliver said. “It would have been too risky, for one thing. There was always the chance that he would have run into someone from the Enrights’ social circle on vacation out here in California. But that aside, I’m sure the bastard was who he claimed to be.”

“Because of his arrogance?”

“He was a man born to wealth and privilege who thought he could get away with murder.”

“And espionage. He was willing to sell vital national secrets to some foreign interests. That makes him a traitor, as well as a killer.”

“Yes, it does.”

Oliver finished his coffee, kissed her lightly on the mouth, and levered himself to his feet.

Just like a comfortably married couple, Irene thought. Except that they weren’t married.

Details.