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.
“I don’t think so,” Oliver said.
He braked and brought the car to a halt on a narrow turnout. Opening the door, he grabbed his cane and a flashlight and climbed out. He stood for a few seconds, listening. The only thing he could hear was the endless crash of the surf on the rocks below the cliff.
He took his gun from the holster. Luther and Irene emerged from the car and followed him. Luther took out his gun and a flashlight. Irene held her small pistol in one hand.
“Stay back,” Oliver said to her. “Please. If he’s still alive, he’ll be armed.”
It didn’t take long to find the Cord. It was a crumpled mass of metal on the rocky beach below. The smell of gasoline was strong in the air.
Julian Enright had been flung out of the vehicle. He had landed on the rocks a short distance from the wreckage. His neck was twisted at an odd angle.
Luther looked at Oliver and said, “You were right about him. Definitely the impulsive type.”
“He was an easy read,” Oliver said. “He was so damned sure he was smarter than everyone else. He was the master puppeteer who manipulated others. People like that never believe they can be manipulated, too.”
“What about the fake notebook?” Irene asked.
“He had it when he ran out of the villa,” Oliver said. “It must be down there in the wreckage.”
“I’ll go down and take a look,” Luther said.
Irene glanced at him. “Is that absolutely necessary?”
“We need to be sure,” Oliver said. “I can’t go down there, not with this damned leg.”
“That leaves me,” Luther said. “I’ll get a rope.”
He went to the car, opened the trunk, and took out a length of rope. He removed his jacket and pulled on a pair of driving gloves.
Irene held the flashlight steady so that Oliver was free to handle the rope.
Luther scrambled down to the wreckage. He checked the body first. He put his fingers on Enright’s throat. He looked up and shook his head. Next he went through Enright’s clothes and removed a wallet. He flipped through it briefly and then stuck it back in the pocket of Enright’s jacket.
A short time later he located the envelope that contained the fake notebook.
He made his way back up the cliffs, took the notebook out of the envelope, and handed it to Oliver.
“I’m amazed it survived,” Oliver said.
Luther looked at him. “We should get rid of it. We don’t want people asking unnecessary questions.”
Oliver looked down at the wreckage. The smell of gasoline was getting stronger.
“Got a match?” he said.
“Thought you’d never ask.”
Luther handed him a glossy black matchbook with the words Paradise Club printed in gold on the front.
Oliver struck a match and touched it to one of the pages in the notebook. When he was sure the fire had taken hold, he tossed the burning notebook down onto the wreckage.
The modified Cord exploded into flames.
“Nothing better than fire to clean up a scene,” Luther said.