Page 56 of The Girl Who Knew Too Much

“Daddy says no one really knows what went wrong the night you nearly died onstage,” the girl continued in a voice laced with ghoulish excitement. “He says there were rumors that someone tried to murder you.”

“The rumors were wrong,” Oliver said. “Have fun with your picnic. Keep an eye on the waves. Never turn your back on the ocean. It will take you by surprise every time. There’s a strong riptide just offshore here.”

There was a polite chorus ofyes, sirs.

Oliver fired up the engine and drove onto the road.

“Sorry about that,” he said after a moment.

“What, exactly, are you apologizing for?” Irene asked.

She held her breath waiting for the answer.

“The interruption. I should have found a more private location.”

She started breathing again. “Not the kiss, then.”

He gave her a quick, searching glance.

“Should I apologize for the kiss?” he asked.

“No,” she said.

He nodded once. “Good. The kids will talk, and Burning Cove is a small town. There will be more gossip.”

Irene laughed, feeling lighter and more carefree than she had in a very long time.

“Misdirection,” she said.

Oliver laughed. It was, she realized, the first time she had seen him laugh.

“Right,” he said. “Misdirection.”

Chapter 22

The skull-faced man was sitting at the counter, readingSilver ScreenSecrets. He looked like an extra from a horror film, Irene thought. He wasn’t ugly, she decided, he was just weird.

She took a seat at the end of the counter and ordered a lettuce-and-tomato sandwich and a cup of coffee. It wasn’t much of a dinner, but she was too nervous about the late-night meeting with Daisy Jennings to eat anything else.

The skull-faced man folded his paper very precisely and got to his feet. He walked toward her. She was careful not to look at him, but when he stopped a short distance away, she knew she was doomed.

“You’re Irene Glasson, aren’t you,” he said in a voice that sounded like it emanated from a crypt. “You wrote that piece about the woman who drowned in the pool.”

“Yes,” Irene said. “Who are you?”

“You don’t need to know that.”

“Good point,” she said. “Would you mind leaving me alone? I’d like to eat my dinner in peace.”

“You should stop making trouble for Mr. Tremayne.”

Irene went still and then, very deliberately, she swiveled around on the stool and confronted the skull-faced man. For the first time she got a good look at his eyes. She had been wrong about the resemblance to an extra in a horror movie, she decided. The stranger looked more like one of the fanatics who carried signs announcing that the world was coming to an end.

“Why are you so concerned with Mr. Tremayne?” she said, going for a softer tone.

“Mr. Tremayne is my friend. You’ll leave him alone if you know what’s good for you.”

“Do you know anything about Gloria Maitland?” Irene asked. “Do you have some information that I should know about?”

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