A Talent for Murder Read online

  “What about the card in Ursula’s purse?” Evan asked. “Doesn’t that mean something?”

  Nancy sighed. “Marty must have given out thousands of cards. It’s not a crime for him to have given one to Ursula.” She frowned. “Actually, that card does bother me, but I don’t know exactly what to make of it.”

  “I’d bet anything that Marty Prince is guilty,” Laurel insisted.

  Evan smiled fondly at his wife. “Too bad intuition isn’t evidence, honey.” He turned to Ned. “One thing’s for sure, you’re going to come out of this with some nice photos of yourself. Mario is the best photographer in the city.”

  Ned smiled. “Boy, I hope you’re right. That session was a killer. I thought it’d never end, what with all the lights to be adjusted. And then, once he started shooting, it was all I could do to keep a straight face, with Amanda mugging at me and clowning around behind Mario’s back—”

  “Amanda?” Nancy asked. “You mean she went to the photo session, too? Not just the fitting?”

  “Sure,” Ned replied. “Didn’t I tell you? Freddy couldn’t drive me to the studio, so Amanda volunteered. She said she had some free time—”

  “How nice of her,” Nancy said, more harshly than she had meant to. A little voice in the back of her head told her to let it go and not make a scene, but she wasn’t sure she could.

  “That’s right,” he said, giving Nancy a cool look. “Amanda gave me tips about how to get the best results when you’re photographed, and it was nice of her. She drove me home, too. She did me a favor, and we had a few laughs.” He stuck out his hands. “Put the cuffs on me, Officer, I’ll come along quietly.”

  He grinned, as if the whole exchange had been a joke, but Nancy was upset. She let the subject drop, but there was an awkward silence at the table. Evan finally broke it by asking for the check.

  The cozy atmosphere was ruined. Nancy wished that she could turn back the clock and do the last fifteen minutes over again. Whatever was wrong between her and Ned, she knew she had handled it badly and made the situation worse. Neither Evan nor Laurel tried to start up a conversation as they rode the tram back to where they had parked.

  As Evan started the car, Laurel touched her husband’s arm. “Don’t forget, you have to stop by the agency.”

  “Oh, right,” Evan said. “Thanks, honey.” He twisted around to face the backseat, where Ned and Nancy sat in awkward silence. “Mind if we swing by JZA? I promised Jane that I’d look at some photos tonight, and I left them on my desk.”

  “No problem,” Nancy said softly.

  Ned just nodded.

  As they rode, Nancy tried to think of something to say to lighten the mood, but her mind was blank. Now and then she glanced over at Ned, hoping to catch his eye and end the standoff. But he stared ahead, his jaw set, his expression distant. Although they were only inches apart on the car seat, to Nancy it felt like miles.

  Finally, after what seemed to be hours, they pulled up in front of the JZA building.

  “I won’t bother using the garage,” Evan said, throwing open the door. “It’ll just be a minute.” He stepped out, stopped abruptly, and sniffed the air. “Do you smell smoke?”

  Nancy rolled down her window, and instantly she could smell that there was a fire nearby. “You’re right,” she replied. “Something’s burning.”

  Quickly, Nancy, Laurel, and Ned got out of the car and looked around.

  “I see it!” Ned exclaimed, pointing up at the building.

  Nancy looked up at one of the upper stories, where smoke was billowing out of a vent.

  “That’s our floor!” Evan shouted. “Come on!” He broke into a run, and the others followed.

  “Don’t use the elevators!” Ned shouted as they stormed into the lobby.

  Evan led the way to the stairs and raced up, taking the steps two at a time.

  With gritted teeth, Nancy pushed herself to keep up with him.

  The first one to reach the agency’s floor, Evan threw open the stairwell door and dashed into the hall. Nancy and Ned were right on his heels, and Laurel followed close behind.

  JZA shared the floor with one other company. Both firms were entered by way of double glass doors across the hall from each other. Panting slightly when he came to a dead stop in front of the JZA doors, Evan stared in horror. Nancy and Ned ran up behind him, then froze, transfixed by the sight.

  Flames enveloped the furniture and streaked along the walls. Fire was raging through the agency, destroying everything!

  Chapter

  Eight

  EVAN STARTED FORWARD, but Nancy quickly reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “No!” she shouted. “You can’t go in there, it’s out of control!”

  Evan seemed stunned, almost hypnotized. He pulled away from Nancy’s grip, insisting, “There are important papers—”

  “Evan! No!” Laurel screamed. “It’s not worth dying for.” She coughed as acrid fumes seeped between the doors.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Ned yelled, putting a hand on Evan’s shoulder. “The heat of the fire could blow those glass doors out.”

  Evan suddenly looked drained and defeated. “This’ll ruin us,” he said dully.

  “Let’s find a phone and call it in. Maybe you can salvage something.” Nancy’s voice was raspy, her throat raw and aching from the smoke.

  “There are phones in the lobby. I’ll call the fire department!” Laurel yelled, running to the stairwell.

  “Come on!” Ned shouted. He and Nancy took Evan by the arms and tugged.

  The agent hung back, taking a last despairing look at JZA before allowing himself to be pulled out of the hall.

  Just as the door to the stairwell closed, Nancy heard a sharp crashing noise.

  “There go the glass doors,” Ned said. “Good thing we got out of there.”

  They arrived in the lobby as Laurel gave JZA’s address to the dispatcher on the other end of the phone. “Please hurry,” she added before hanging up.

  Ned pushed open the outside doors, and they scrambled through. For a minute no one spoke as they concentrated on soothing their lungs and throats with deep breaths of cool night air.

  “I don’t get it,” Evan said, coughing. “We have a sprinkler system and fire alarms. Why didn’t they cut in? I’d better call Jane.”

  As he went into the lobby, sirens wailed through the nearby streets. Moments later a hook-and-ladder rig swung around the corner and stopped. Two other trucks and a car, all bright red, pulled up, and more than a dozen fire fighters piled out to attack the blaze.

  Evan returned. “Jane’s on her way,” he said.

  Ten minutes later, Jane drove up. From her faded jeans and a shaggy sweater, Nancy could see that she had dressed in a hurry. She was a far cry from the picture of elegance she normally presented. Walking up to the others, Jane nodded. “How bad is it?”

  With his arm around Laurel’s shoulders, Evan looked despondent. “The front room was engulfed in flames,” he said. “The smoke was too thick to really see.”

  “You have insurance, don’t you?” Nancy asked.

  “Of course,” Jane said, sounding strained and edgy. “But there are a lot of things here that will be very hard to replace, like clients’ photos and résumés. If we lose our phone lines, we can’t do business. This couldn’t have come at a worse time, just when—”

  “Excuse me,” said a voice behind her. A young man in a suit and tinted glasses held out a gold badge in a leather case. “Inspector Ken Matsuda, S.F.F.D. Who called in the fire?”

  Evan identified himself and explained what had happened, while the inspector took notes. At one point, a firefighter interrupted and took the inspector aside for a brief conference. Then Matsuda returned.

  “It’s lucky you came by, Mr. Chandler,” he said. “Otherwise, the entire floor would be a burnt-out shell. As it is, I think that several rooms in back are usable.”

  Jane came forward. “It’s not a total loss?”

&
nbsp; “And you are—?” the inspector said.

  “Jane Zachary,” she said. “It’s my agency. Can we go up and check the damage?”

  “If you like. There’s no danger now,” said Inspector Matsuda. “We can talk afterward. But be careful. The floors are wet and slippery.”

  The elevators had been shut down, so everyone trudged up the stairs, passing fire fighters who were on their way down. When they reached JZA’s floor, Nancy’s eyes began to tear from the acrid smoke, and she noticed an awful, charred smell.

  “You’ll need these,” the inspector said as he handed flashlights to Jane and Evan. “The lights are out.”

  Nancy stood with Jane in the doorway and surveyed the dismal remains of what had been a stylish office suite. The flashlight beams swept over puddles of water and piles of ashes.

  In Jane’s office the beautiful carpet and the antique furniture were scorched, drenched, and ruined. Jane took a wad of soggy paper from her desk. Nancy saw they had once been an actor’s head shots, with résumés printed on the backs. Wordlessly, Jane dropped them on the floor. Nancy noted that Jane showed no signs of emotion.

  The inspector waved them back out to the hallway. “I have a few more questions,” he said.

  “How did it happen?” Jane asked.

  “It’s too soon to say,” Matsuda responded. “Ms. Zachary, were your alarms and sprinklers in working order?”

  “As far as I know,” she replied quietly.

  The inspector made a notation. “Who handles your insurance?”

  Jane blinked. “Why do you ask?”

  “Standard procedure,” he replied. “I imagine you’ll call them right away.”

  “Oh.” Jane stared straight ahead, motionless as a statue. Nancy thought that she might be in shock. There was no sign of distress at all. “Yes, I’ll call tonight.” She gave him the name of her insurance agent. “Will that be all?”

  Inspector Matsuda closed his notebook. “For now. We may need to talk again. I’ve still got a few things to check out here.” He nodded, then walked back into the devastated agency.

  Does he suspect foul play? Nancy wondered.

  Jane turned to Evan. “First thing in the morning, we’ll set up temporary headquarters.”

  “Sure thing,” Evan said, squeezing Jane’s hands. “It could have been worse. We’ll manage, you’ll see.”

  Jane smiled weakly. Then a hard look came into her eyes as she said, “I suppose Marty Prince will be sorry to hear his plan didn’t work.”

  Laurel gasped. “You think he did this?”

  Jane looked back at the agency. “Let’s just say I wouldn’t put it past him.”

  Nancy thought Jane was assuming too much. “First, let’s see if the fire was arson,” she said. “It might have been a freak accident, like a short circuit, or a wiring—”

  Jane turned to face Nancy. “You don’t really think that, do you? I’ll bet it was arson, and if it was, then I know who’s responsible. See you in the morning, Evan.” She walked out the door.

  “She sure was cool under the circumstances,” Laurel commented.

  “Maybe she was too stunned to react,” Nancy suggested, though she agreed with Laurel. Jane’s unusual calm had brought a few questions to mind.

  How shaky was JZA financially? Had Top Flight Artists threatened JZA’s existence? Was Jane Zachary desperate enough to try to collect the insurance money by arranging to burn down her own business?

  • • •

  Nancy had a night of restless sleep and nightmares. In one dream she stood at the edge of a wall of fire, shouting to Ned, who stood on the opposite side, obscured by smoke and flames. But no matter how many times she called, he never heard.

  The next morning she was on her way down to breakfast when she heard Ned’s voice in the kitchen. “Ever since she got back from Europe, things have been messed up. Now she’s acting suspicious and possessive.”

  Nancy stopped and listened, her heart pounding. The next voice she heard was Laurel’s.

  “I could tell there was something wrong. Is it serious, do you think?”

  Afraid to hear Ned’s reply, Nancy came down the stairs, making noise so they’d hear her. As she expected, the conversation broke off. They looked up as she walked in, Laurel with a smile fixed in place, Ned with a sad expression.

  “Good morning,” Nancy said, feeling self-conscious.

  “Can I fix you some pancakes?” Laurel offered. “I made some for Ned. Poor Evan had to get up at dawn to head down to the agency.”

  “No, thanks.” Nancy popped a slice of bread into the toaster. “I’m not too hungry.”

  Ned stood up, and Nancy noticed he was wearing a sweatsuit and running shoes. “Guess I’ll run a few miles. See you later.” He nodded at Nancy and walked quickly out of the kitchen.

  Ordinarily he would have asked me to join him, Nancy thought sadly. But not today. Tears stung her eyes as she sat down at the table.

  Laurel sat opposite Nancy, looking at her with concern. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “I’ve been better.” The toast popped up, but Nancy ignored it. “I guess you know things are strained between Ned and me.”

  “I feel bad for you both.” Laurel put her hand over Nancy’s. Her look of concern warmed Nancy. “What’s the problem?”

  Though Nancy wasn’t sure where to begin, she filled Laurel in on their summer apart, and on the feelings she’d been having since they’d arrived in San Francisco. “It’s not just that I’m jealous of Amanda,” Nancy said. “If Ned pursues a modeling career, it will pull us further apart. I just don’t know if Ned and I really belong together.”

  Laurel listened intently before she spoke. “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” she said, smiling. “Jealousy isn’t such a terrible thing. It proves that you really do care about Ned.”

  “I hadn’t looked at it that way,” Nancy said thoughtfully.

  “As for Ned’s glamorous new career,” Laurel added, “my cousin is a sensible guy. His head may be spinning from all the attention he’s been getting, but he’ll sort things out.”

  “I hope so, because I can’t—” The doorbell cut Nancy off. Laurel excused herself to answer the door. She came back a moment later, carrying a folded piece of gray paper.

  “Someone just pushed this through the mail slot,” she said. “It’s for Ned.”

  Nancy looked at the paper—a gray parchment that seemed familiar. Suddenly she remembered. It resembled the notes in Ursula’s apartment.

  “Can I see it?” Nancy asked.

  Laurel looked doubtful. “I don’t know,” she murmured. “I mean, it is addressed to Ned.”

  Nancy understood Laurel’s reluctance. “I have a strong hunch that it might connect with my case,” Nancy explained, “otherwise I wouldn’t think of looking at it. Really.”

  Laurel bit her lip. At length she said, “Well . . . all right,” and handed over the note.

  Nancy opened it up. The brief message was handwritten: “We should talk right away. Give me a call.”

  There was a phone number written below. The same name was signed at the bottom of the note and printed at the top—Marty Prince.

  Chapter

  Nine

  READING THE MESSAGE, Nancy felt her sad feelings over Ned give way to a stir of excitement. Marty Prince hadn’t wasted any time.

  Laurel read over Nancy’s shoulder. “How did he hear about Ned so quickly?” she asked.

  “That’s a good question,” Nancy said. “And how did he know where Ned is staying?”

  Laurel gasped. “That’s right!”

  Nancy stood up and began to pace. “I’ve been looking for a way to meet Marty and here it is.” She had felt the case stalling for lack of direction. Now at least she had a plan.

  “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Laurel cautioned. “He could be dangerous.”

  Nancy nodded. “Evan says he’s clever,” she said. “He’ll take some careful handling.”

&
nbsp; Suddenly hungry, she ate a hearty breakfast while waiting for Ned to return. The minute he came in the door, she handed him the note, explaining, “It was delivered while you were out.”

  Ned quickly scanned it. “How does Marty Prince know about me?”

  “Let’s find out. Give him a call and set up an appointment,” Nancy suggested.

  “This morning I have to go try on the King Kola wardrobe,” Ned said thoughtfully. “Freddy and Amanda are meeting me there in an hour. I could see Marty afterward.”

  “Great,” Nancy said. “I’ll go with you.”

  “Why?” Ned scowled. “Because you don’t trust me alone with Amanda?”

  Stung, Nancy tried to keep resentment out of her voice. “It has nothing to do with Amanda. I just want to meet Marty Prince. If you want, I’ll meet you after you’re done with your wardrobe.”

  Ned looked away, muttering, “I’m sorry. I guess I jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

  “It’s all right,” Nancy replied. “Maybe we’ve both been doing too much of that lately.” Catching his attention, she smiled and was happy to see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes.

  “Maybe we have,” Ned agreed. “I’ll call Top Flight right now.” He dialed, and once he gave his name, Marty got on the line immediately. By the time Ned hung up, he had arranged to meet Marty in his office at one o’clock that afternoon.

  “He wants to make me a star,” Ned said, chuckling.

  “Nice work, Nickerson,” Nancy said, then glanced away. “So what’s the plan?” she asked casually. “Should I meet you after your fitting?”

  “No—come along,” Ned insisted. “Just let me shower and change.”

  Nancy went to her room and looked through her closet. She put on a royal blue top and slinky black leggings. Studying herself in the mirror, she smiled. If Amanda wants Ned, she thought, she’ll have to deal with me first.

  Ned drove them to the production company in the Mission District, near where Ursula Biemann’s body had been found. Freddy Estevez was waiting for them, and he trotted over as Ned parked the car.