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ShopTillYouDrop

Copyright©ElaineViets,2003

OriginallypublishedbySignet,May2003

PublishedasaneBookin2018byJABberwockyLiteraryAgency,Inc.

Allrightsreserved

eISBN:978-1-625673-18-3

Thisisaworkoffiction.Names,characters,places,andincidentseitheraretheproductoftheauthor’simaginationorareusedfictitiously,andanyresemblancetoactualpersons,

livingordead,businessestablishments,events,orlocalesisentirelycoincidental.

CoverdesignbyTigerBrightStudios

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TABLEOFCONTENTS

TitlePageCopyrightPage

DedicationAcknowledgments

Chapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34

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Chapter35Chapter36Epilogue

AlsobyElaineVietsAbouttheAuthor

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ForAnneWattsandThumbs,whobothenjoycurlingupwithagoodbook

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Acknowledgments

Iwanttothankmyhusband,DonCrinklaw,forhispatience.WhenIaskedhim“Doyouthink itwould soundbetter if I changed the ‘a’ to ‘the’?”heactuallygavemea seriousanswer.

Andmypitbullagent,DavidHendin.Andmyenthusiasticeditor,GennyOstertag,whokeepsdreamingupdead-endjobsfor

me,soIcanhavethejobIreallywant.ThankstothePenguinPutnamcopyeditorsandproductionstaff,whoweresocareful.Somanypeoplehelpedwiththisbook.IhopeIdidn’tleaveanyoneout.Thanks to Joanne Sinchuk and John Spera at Murder on the Beach bookstore in

DelrayBeach,Florida.TheyencouragedmetowriteaFloridaseries.Ihopetheylikethisone.

ThankstoJimBrennanofBrennanThomsenAssociatesInc.CarolynCain,authorofTheSecret at theBreakersHotel for her knowledge of home fires,which she gained thehard way. To Valerie Cannata for her courtroom information. Thanks also to SarahWatts-Casinger,whosavedThumbsfromalifeonthestreets.AndJinnyGender,KarenGrace,KayGordy,DebbieHensonandJanetSmithfortheirhelpandencouragement.

ShannonMaygavemeherSouthBeachexpertise.IappreciatethehelpofAnnMeng,broker,BuytheBeachRealtyInc.;ArtRosenRealEstate;YolandaattheFloridaCenterfor Cosmetic Surgery; M. Diane Vogt, author of The Silicone Solution; and premierInternetresearcherMartinWalsh.

Thanks to John R. Levy and mystery lover Debra Davis at Shelton Ferrari in FortLauderdale,whichhasasplendidBarchetta.

Rita Scott does indeed make cat toys packed with the most powerful catnip inkittendom.Theyhavesentmycatsintofrenziesofecstasy.

EdSeeligatSilverStringsMusicgavemea“ClaptonIsGod”T-shirt.Itisoneofmytreasuredpossessions.

JulieDostletmewanderaroundherweight-trainingclasslikeazombie.Herworkoutsjarsomethinglooseinmybrainthathelpsmewrite.

Thanks to Detective RC White, Fort Lauderdale Police Department (retired), whoansweredcountlessquestionsonpolice interrogationsandprocedures.Anymistakesaremine,nothis.

JerrySanford,authorofMiamiHeatandfederalprosecutorforthenortherndistrictofFlorida,answeredmanycomplicatedlegalquestions.

Thanks to Merrilyn Rathbun, research director at the Fort Lauderdale Historical

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Society,andFloridaexpertStuartMcIver,whohaswrittentoomanybookstolisthere.Thanks to the librarians at the Broward County Library and the St. Louis Public

Librarywhoresearchedmyquestions,nomatterhowwacky.Special thanks to librarian AnneWatts, the personwho lives withThumbs the cat.

Thumbsisarealsix-toedcat,althoughhisowncoatisaricherbrown.Heagreedtogograyforhisroleinthisseries.

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Chapter1

OnWednesday,Helenmetawomanwhocouldnotfrown.ThefrownlessfemalewasanotheramazingcustomeratJuliana’s.ThestorewasonLas

Olas Boulevard, the fashionable, palm-fringed shopping area in downtown FortLauderdale. After working two weeks there, Helen thought she’d seen every kind ofexpensivekeptwoman.

The woman who could not frown did not seem all that different from the othercustomerswhowerebuzzedinside.YoucouldnotsimplywalkintoJuliana’s.Theelegantgreendoorwaslockedtokeepoutundesirables:sunburnedtouristsin“ILoveFlorida”T-shirts,harriedmotherswithsticky-fingeredchildren,andthehopelesslyunfashionable.

Thisexclusivepolicywasneverstated,buteveryoneonLasOlasknewit.Somewomenwalkedonby,neverringingJuliana’sdoorbell.Theyknewthegreendoorwouldnotopenforthem.

Woe to thosewho tried and failed.Awoman turned away from Juliana’smight tellherselfthattheclotheswereoverpricedandmadeforskinnylittlebimbos.Thatwastrue.But it was also true that Ms. Reject had been publicly branded as without style, andworse,thatJuliana’scouldnothelpher.

This added to the thrill of those who were admitted by Christina, the headsaleswoman.Whenthegreendoorswungopen,somewomenhadthesamecelestiallookofreliefandjoythatwaveringsaintsmustwearwhenadmittedintoheaven.

ButBrittney,thewomanwhocouldnotfrown,didnotregisteranyemotionatall,notevenwhenshesquealed“Christina!”andair-kissedher.

Brittneywasalongtimecustomerandabigspender.HelencouldtellthatbythewayChristinahadmovedacross the room, likeaquickcatpouncingonherprey.SheevenhuggedBrittney.Christinaonlytouchedpeoplewhospentlotsofmoney.

Astheystoodimplanttoimplant,Helenthoughtthetwowomenlookedenoughaliketo be sisters. Both had long blonde hair (dyed), plump pouty lips (collagened), andsapphireblueeyes(contacts).Itwentwithoutsayingthattheydietedtostarvation.

Theyweredressedalike,too.Bothworecasualclothesthatcostafortuneandstayedinstyle about two and a half seconds. By next season, Brittney would have given herthousand-dollar outfit to the maid, and Christina would have sent hers to theconsignmentshop.

Before sheworked at Juliana’s,Helenhadonly seen these styles onMTV.ChristinaandBrittneywore low-risepants tightenough to showthe freckleson theirbutts,highheelsandlownecklines.Bothbaredtheirshouldersandflattummiespiercedwithsilver

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rings.ButChristina looked likeBrittney’s older sister, althoughHelen suspected theywere

the sameage.Brittneybelonged in those revealing clothes.Christina lookeda little tooold for them.Maybe itwas the lines running fromher nose to hermouth or the finefurrows in her forehead. The nights she spent crawling the South Beach clubs werestartingtoshowinChristina’sskin.

Brittney didn’t have any wrinkles, and she hadn’t had a facelift, either. Helen hadworkedattheshoplongenoughtoknowwhatgoodandbadfaceliftslookedlike.

“Letme see. Letme see,”Christina said, examiningBrittney’s smooth oval face. “Itlooksperfect.”

“Itworked,”Brittneysaid,inasoft,sultryvoicethatsoundedlikeasighinaseraglio.“I’vemetawonderfulnewman.HehasahouseinGoldenBeach.”

GoldenBeachwas aptly named.Oceanfront homes there started at just under threemilliondollars.Brittneyhadarichcatch.ShepresentedChristinawithasmallgoldgiftbag,packedwithcrimsontissuepaper.“Ibroughtyoualittlepresent.”

Many ofChristina’s customers brought her little presents.Helen thought theyweretryingtocurryfavor,sothatgreendoorwouldalwaysopenforthem.

Christina’s long,slenderhandrustledaroundinthetissuepaperlikeasmallpredatorand pulled out aMovado watch with amother-of-pearlmuseum dial and amatchinglizard strap. “Pink!The new color.Althoughmy favorite color is green,” she said, andlaughed.

Brittneydidnotlaugh.Maybeshecouldn’t,Helenthought.“Comeonbackandsitdown,”Christinasaid,as ifshewasinvitingafriendintoher

home for a chat. Helen was relieved when she saw Brittney head for the sitting area.Juliana’s salesassociateswereonlyallowedtosit ifacustomersat first. If therewerenocustomers,theyhadtostand.Theownerspot-checkedthesecuritycameratapestomakesurethatrulewasfollowed.

ChristinaofferedBrittneyadrink.“Evian,please,”shesaid,inthatvelvetwhisper.The super-skinnyones alwayswantedwater.Christinahurried to the back room for

Evian water. Helen and Brittney strolled past a single Hermes scarf draped on amahoganysideboardthathadoncebeeninaRockefellermansion.(“Thisisn’tarummagesale,”ChristinahadtoldHelen.“Neverputoutapileofanything.”)

They passed two pale blue six-hundred-dollar blouses on a dark, sleek wood rack.Hangingnexttothemwerethematchingjackets.Theyweretwothousandeach.

Brittneyspottedaspaghetti-strapknittoponarosewoodwinetable.Itwasaturquoiseknitedgedwithhotpinkcrochetedlace.Madeofviscoseandpolyester,thescrapofclothweighedlittlemorethanaKleenex.

“Howmuch?”Brittneysaid.Juliana’sneverusedpricetags.“Three hundred fifteen dollars,”Helen said. She could say that nowwith a straight

face.WhenHelenfirstsawthetop,shethoughtitlookedlikeaKmartspecial,andthatpolyesterandviscosebelongedon trailer trash.Nowsheknewwhat itcoulddo for therightwoman.SodidBrittney.

“It’sadorable,”shesaid,anddrapeditoveronearm.

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“Wehavethepantstogowithit,”Helensaid.Brittneydidn’treply.Herattentionwascaptured by a snakeskin handbag. “How much?” she said, stroking it with exquisitelymanicuredfingers.

“Fourfifty,”Helensaid.Brittneydrapedtheturquoisetopoverthesnakebagandcarriedbothtothebackof

thestore.Threeblacksilk-satinloveseatsformedatriangleinfrontofagilt-framedtriplemirror.Behindtheloveseats,onablackmarblepedestal,wasaporcelainvasefilledwithfashionableflowersthatlookedlikesextoysandbathbrushes.

Helen, a solid size twelve, sank into the loveseat. Brittney was so tiny, she barelydisturbedthesurface.Evenhercouchdoesn’twrinkle,thoughtHelen.

Helen wanted to hate Brittney, but she couldn’t. She liked the woman. There wassomethingwinsomeabouther.Brittneydidn’tignoreHelen,thewaysomecustomersdid.While shewaited forChristina to return,Brittney said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch yourname.Youare?”

“HelenHawthorne.I’mthenewsalesassociate.”Brittneyheldoutherhand,andHelenshookit.Itfeltsoftbutstrong.Brittney’sskinny

armswerecordedwithhigh-pricedgymmuscle.“Howlonghaveyoulivedhere?”askedBrittney.ThiswasthepolitegreetinginSouthFlorida.Almostnoonewasfromhere.Noone

youwantedtoknow,anyway.“Nottoolong,”Helensaid.“Shemoveddownhere from theMidwest,”Christina said, comingbackwithEvian

andachilledcrystalgoblet.“Oh,” Brittney said. No one ever cared enough to ask where in the Midwest. Fort

Lauderdale was a suburb of New York, which had no interest in the nation’s boringmidsection.TheMidwestwasthelandofpotroastsandpotbellies.Noonewentthere.NoonewouldpryintoHelen’ssecret.

“And what did you do there?” Brittney said. Helen knew how to stop that line ofquestioning. She gave her real job title. “I was a director of pensions and employeebenefits.”

ShecouldseeBrittney’seyesgettingaglazeonthemlikea jellydoughnut.Buttobesure,Helenstartedrecitingherjobdescription.EvenHelencouldnotendurethewholething:“Iplannedanddirected implementationandadministrationofbenefitsprograms—”

“Hownice,”Brittneysaid,hurriedlycuttingheroff.Helenrelaxed.Therewouldbenofurtherquestionsaboutherpast.

ButBrittneyambushedherwith“Whyareyouworkinginadressshop?”“Workingherehasgivenmeanewchallengeandachancetobrushuponmypeople

skills,”Helensaid,hatingherselfforslippingintocorporatespeak.Like all good liars, Helen stuck to the truth as much as possible. Serious jobs in

Lauderdale were far outnumbered by dead-end jobs in shops and fast-food places thatpaidsixorsevendollarsanhour.EvenBrittney,who’dneverheldaseriousjobinherlife,knewthat.ItwaswhymostofJuliana’swomendatedricholdmen.

“Iwas lucky to find this jobwithinwalking distance ofmy apartment,”Helen said

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brightly.Some luck, she thought, resentfully. I make six seventy an hour, no benefits, no

commissionuntilI’veworkedheresixmonths.Helenwantedherwagestobeincash,offthebooks.Shemadethirtycentsanhourlessthanthestandardsalesassociate.Thestoreownerexplainedwhyhewasstiffingher.“I’mnot takingoutanydeductions, soyou’rereally making more. You understand that you’ll have no Social Security, no healthinsurance,andifIfireyou,nounemployment?”

Helenhadunderstood.Shewanteditthatway.Shedidnotwanthernameturningupinanycomputerdatabase.Shedidnotwantthecourttrackingherdown.Buttheironydidn’t escapeher. She’d fledSt.Louisbecause she caughtherhusband—make that ex-husband—Robwithayoungerwoman.AwomanwholookedalotlikethecustomersatJuliana’s.

Iusedtomakesixfigures,shethought,andnowI’msellingbustierstobimbos.ChristinadirectedtheconversationbacktoBrittney,aswasproper.“Let’sgetalookat

yournew,improvedface,”shesaid.Brittneyputherfaceupexpectantly,asifwaitingforanexpert’sapproval.Helenthoughtshe’dneverseenamoreperfectoval.Therewasnotawrinkle, line, blemish or enlarged pore.The skinwas smooth and velvety, the strikingsapphire eyes largeandclear and fringedwithdark lashes.Theeffectwas stunningandslightlyscary.Therewasanodddeadnessinthisperfection.

“DoctorMariposadidasplendidjob,”Christinasaid,admiringly.“Ican’tthankyouenoughforsendingmetoher,”Brittneysaid.Christinashrugged.“Iknowall thegoodones,”shesaid.“Andall thebadones, too.

DidyouseeTiffany’seyejob?Shedidn’tconsultmefirst.Thedamneddoctor’sgotherso tight she can’t shuther eyes anymore.Tiffany’shappywithhiswork. Ihaven’t thehearttotellhershelookslikeshe’spermanentlystartled.”

“Surgery is so risky,”Brittney said. “Thanks for thewarning.Thatway Iwon’t lookstartlednexttimeIseeher.”

“Whatdidthedoctordotoyou,Brittney?”Helenasked.“Injectedmywrinkleswithbiopolymer,”shesaid,shybutproud.“What’sthat?”Helensaid.“It’s like collagen, only better,” Brittney said. “It’s very big in Europe, but it hasn’t

beenapproved in theU.S.yet. I’veheardBoDerekhad itdone.Her foreheadused tolooklikecrepepaper.”

Shesaiditwithwide-eyedwonderandwithoutatraceofbitchiness.HelenthoughtthatBoDereklookeddarngood,withorwithouttheallegedfacework.“Didyouneedsurgeryforthis?”Helenasked.“No,yougetitinjectedintoyourface.Itgetsridofthewrinkles,theonesaroundyour

mouthandnose,andthefrownlinesbetweenyoureyebrows.It’scheaperthanafacelift.Ihadthelinesaroundmymouthdoneforaboutsixhundredfiftydollarsandmyforeheadforanothercoupleofhundred.”

“Anysideeffects?”Helenasked.Shewasfascinated.She’dneverheardofthisstuff.Shecouldn’tbegintoguessBrittney’sage.Wassheanoldthirty?Ayoungforty?

“None.Oh,yourfaceswellsupfortwoorthreedays,anditreallyhurts,butafterthat,there’s nothing. There are no allergies to worry about, because it’s a mineral. It lasts

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longerthancollagen.Thistreatmentwillbegoodforfiveyears.ThenI’llhavetohaveitdoneagain.”

“You’resuretherearenosideeffects?”Helensaid.Shecouldn’tbelievetheseinjectionsdidn’thavesomerisk.

“None,”shesaid.Brittneythoughtforamoment.“Well,maybeone.Ican’tfrownanymore.”

“Youwhat?”Helenwasnotsureshe’dheardright.“Ican’tfrown,”shesaid.“Idon’tknowifitispermanentornot.Butit’snotreallya

disadvantage.Youdon’tgetforeheadwrinklesifyoucan’tfrown.”Now Helen understood Brittney’s curiously impassive face. Brittney couldn’t move

wholesectionsofherface.HelenwonderedifanenormoussurgeofemotionwouldshowonBrittney’slovelyfeatures.Whatifshediscoveredhermaninbedwithanotherwoman,thewayHelenfoundherhusbandRob?CouldBrittney’s facestillbedistortedbyrage?Orwould her face always be smooth and impassive, evenwhen shewas fightingmad?Wouldthatbottled-upangerhurt?

ButthensherememberedhowBrittneyearnedherliving.LikemostofthewomenatJuliana’s, shewasprobably keptby amucholderman, as either amistress or a trophywife.

“IfIcan’tfrown,that’sgood,don’tyouthink?”Brittneysaid.“Youdon’twantthoseemotions, anyway. They will just give you wrinkles.” She was absolutely serious, andsweetlytrusting.Helenbitbackhersarcasticreply.Itwouldbelikehittingapuppy.

“IwantDoctorMariposa to dome,”Christina said. “She’s the best. Shewas a topplasticsurgeoninBrazil.Idon’tunderstandwhytheywon’tletherpracticeinFlorida.”

IfDoctorMariposacouldn’toperateinFlorida,somethingwasseriouslywrong,Helenthought.Floridaletallsortsofcrooksandincompetentspractice.

“It’sourgain,”sighedBrittanyhappily.“Shecan’tadvertisetheregularway,sothereisn’t a long waiting list. The only drawback is she wants cash. But she has to in hersituation.Shecan’tkeeprecords.”

“Speakingofnotkeepingthings,didyoureallydumpVinnie?”Christinasaid.“Ihadtotellhimgood-bye.Itwasjusttoodangeroustodatehimanymore.”Brittney

crossedherlonglegs,andHelennoticedherceriseMoschinomules.“Howcome?”Helenasked.“Toomanyofhisfriendsweredying,”Brittneysaidearnestly.“Theyweresick?”Helensaid.“No,silly.TheywereturningupinbarrelsinBiscayneBay.”Thiswasafavoriteform

of mob body disposal in Miami. In New York and New Jersey, the home of manymobstersofItalianextraction,bodiesweresimplydumpedintheriver.ThenthedeaddidnotriseuntilMay,whenthewaterwarmedup.ButhereinFlorida,itwasalwayswarm.So theMiamimobsters used barrels.The bodies stayed down until the decompositiongasescausedthemtoriseandfloat.

“Six of themwere found dead. Twomore aremissing, and the police think they’reprobablydead.”

Helendidnotknowwhattosay.“Vinnieisinconstruction,”Brittneysaid,asifthatexplainedsomething.Maybeitdid.

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ConstructioncouldbearoughbusinessinSouthFlorida.“He’salsoinimport-exports.”HelenhadbeeninFloridalongenoughtoknowthatwascodefordrugs.“Doeshehaveaboat?”Christinaasked,shrewdly.“Oh,yes.ACigaretteboat.”Helentookthatasproof.“ThelastoneswereVinnie’sgoodfriendAngeloandhisdate,Heather.Theyturnedup

dead lastweek.Now the FBI has been followingme around, askingme questions andmakingmylifemiserable,”Brittneysaid.ShelookedlikeanindignantBarbiedoll.

“The FBI are everywhere. Two of them even rangmy doorbell at seven a.m. Theyaskediftheycouldcomein,andIhadtoletthem.Icouldn’thavetheneighborsseemewiththeFBI.ButIdidn’tofferthemcoffeeorjuiceoranything.”

Brittneyactedasifshe’dpunishedtheagentsseverely.Helenlistened,spellbound.“See,VinnieandIhaddinnerwithAngeloandHeatheraboutaweekbeforetheydied.

Wedidn’tknowtheyweregoing todie,ofcourse.They seemed just fine.HeatherwaswearingthecutestDolce&Gabbanaoutfit—theblackonethatwas inthe last issueofVanityFair.D&Gissohot.Angelomusthavereallylovedher,”shesaid,andthistime,thesighwassad.

“Aftertheirbodieswerediscovered,theFBIshowedmethegrossestpictures.Polaroidsofthosepoordeadpeople.Theywereinawfulshapefromthewaterandthesun.Heatherhadalwaystakensuchgoodcareofherself,too.

“That FBI agent said, ‘Did you have dinner with these people Wednesday, Augustfirst?’ I looked at those terriblephotos and I said, ‘Would Ihavedinnerwith someonewho looked like that?’ ” Brittneywas tremblingwith indignation. “That’swhen I toldVinnie that I couldn’t see him any more. It’s too dangerous to go around with him.That’swhyhehasawife.”

“Vinnie’s married?” Helen blurted. Christina frowned at her, and Helen felt like ahayseedfromtheMidwest,assheoftendidatJuliana’s.ButBrittneywasnotoffended.

“Ofcoursehe’smarried,” she said. “Hiswifeknowswedate.”Helen thought “date”stoodforanotherfour-letterword.

Thedoorbellchimed.Christinabuzzedthegreendoor,anditswungopentoadmitayoung Asian woman with straight black hair down to her size-two tush. She wasaccompaniedbya forty-somethingboyfriendwithabullneckandabald spot.Hehadonehandpossessivelyonthesmallofherback.

“Youwaitonthem,”Christinasaid.“I’lltakeBrittney.”Thelong-hairedlovelywasnamedTara.HerboyfriendwasPaulie.Pauliehadhertry

oneverything in the storeandmadecrudecomments like“Thosepants really showoffyour ass.” Tara simply smiled and tried on more short, tight clothes. Paulie droppednearlyninethousanddollars,asweetsugardaddyindeed.

Afterthecoupleleft,Christinacongratulatedherwarmly.Helenbarelyheardher.Shecouldn’t get thewomanwhocouldnot frownoutofhermind.HelenwashauntedbyBrittney’ssweetnatureandheroddlyimmobileface.Shedidnotknowwhysuchalovelycreaturewouldgooutwithamobster.BrittneydidnotseemtounderstandthatdumpingVinniemightnotbeenough.Ifallthemobster’sfriendsweredyingordisappearing,then

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shemightbeindanger,too.ShewonderedifBrittneywouldlivelongenoughtogetwrinkles.Helenwasnot really surprised threeweeks laterwhen she read in thepaper that the

body of a ninety-eight-poundwomanwith blonde hair and sapphire-blue contactswasfoundinabarrelinBiscayneBay.

Butshewassurprisedwhosebodyitturnedouttobe.

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Chapter2

ThursdaywasHelen’sworstdaysinceshefledSt.Louis.Itwasrainingthatmorning,ahardtropicaldownpour.Arelentlesswinddrovetherainunderherumbrella.Helenwassoaked by the time she’d walked to work. Her black silk Ungaro suit was wet andwrinkled.Herhairwasdampandfrizzy.Shesquishedwatery footprintsacross Juliana’sfreshlyvacuumedcarpet.

“You look likeabag lady,”Christina said.“Youcan’twaitoncustomersdressed likethat.” Christina’s own clothes—white Chanel pants and an Italian knit top—wereperfectly dry.Her blonde hair curled obediently around her shoulders.Maybe she hadteleportedtoJuliana’s,Helenthought.

“ButifIgohomeformoreclothes,I’lljustgetwetter,”Helensaid.“Then borrow something in the store, and don’t get anything on it,” Christina

snapped.“There’sahairdryeryoucanuseinthestockroomforyourdamphair.”Helendriedherhair,thenlookedforsomethingtowear.Nothingfit.Notonesingle

item in thewhole store.She foundscoresof size twos, fours, sixes, several zeroes, someeights,andonesizeten,butnotwelvesshecouldwear.

Juliana’swomenwerebuilt like little girlswithbigbreasts.Helenwas abigwoman.Notafatwoman.Atsixfeetandonehundredfiftypounds,shewasslimandwillowybysome standards. But in Juliana’s she felt like a great galumphing giant. Sometimes shethought that was why Christina had hired her. Even on their fattest day, the teenycustomerscouldfeelsuperiortothehugeMidwesternsaleswoman.

“I’mnothuge,”Helentoldherself.“Twelve isnotabigsize foragrownwomanmyheight.AndI’mgood-looking.”

Sogood-lookingmyhusbandofseventeenyearshoppedintobedwithanotherwoman,shethought.AndnowI’montherun.

Helenwasfeelinglow.Thestorewideclothessearchdepressedher,andthepoundingraindidn’thelp.Shefinallypluggedinthesteamerinthestockroomandusedittogetthewrinklesoutofhersuit.Thenshereappliedhermakeup.

“Much better,” Christina said, when the spruced-up Helen emerged from thestockroom.“I’msorryIgrumpedatyou.Youdon’thavetoworryhowyoulook,anyway.Iexpectthiswillbeaslowdaywiththerain.”

Withthat,thedoorbellranganddidn’tstopringingforthenexttwohours.Theywereoverrunwithcustomersthatmorning.Perversely,therainseemedtobringthemout,theway ahard rainbroughtout earthwormson the sidewalks inHelen’shometownof St.Louis.

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AndwormswereallthatcametoJuliana’sthatmorning.Thelittlesweetheartswiththesunny dispositions stayed home. Helen and Christina waited on complainers, crabs,grumps,andgrouches.Theybrought racksofclothes forcustomerswhodidn’t like thestylesortheprices.Theyhuntedupaccessoriesforwomenwhorefusedtobedelightedbytheclevermaterialsandcunningdetails.

HelengotstuckwithtwoabrasiveNewYorkwomenforoveranhour,until shewasreadytostranglethemwithasilkscarf.ThefunnythingwasshelikedNewYorkers—inNewYork.Theretheywerewittyandkindhearted,evenheroic.Butoutoftheirelement,theyseemedrudeandprovincial.

TheNewYorkwomentriedontwenty-threedresses,seventeenpairsofpants,fourteentops,eightsweaters,sixbelts,andthreescarvesanddroppedeverythingonthefloor.Theycomplainedthatthereweren’tenoughblackstylesintheirsize(NewYorkersalwaysworeblack). After all that work, only one of the women bought anything, the cotton-and-spandexpantsforalousytwohundredninety-fivedollars.Inblack,ofcourse.

Helenwasstillhanginguptheirclotheswhenthedoorbellrangagain.“Quick,Helen,it’sLauren,”Christinasaidinanurgentwhisper.“Now,listentome.I’mgoingtoletherin andwait on her. Your job is to watch her like a hawk.Make a note of everythingLaurenputsinherbackpack,butdon’tsayanythingaboutit.Neverleaveheraloneforaminutewhenshe’sonthefloor.AndcounteverythingItakeintothedressingroom,thencountitagainwhenIbringitout,soIhavebackup.I’llwatchherinthere.”

HelenwonderedhowLaurencouldwearthoseblackleatherpantsinthehumidFloridaweather.Shehadabeautifullion’smaneoftawnyhair,greeneyes,andalongnosethathadtobeherown.Mostof Juliana’swomenhadhadtheirnosesdone.HelenadmiredLauren’sdaringmoveinkeepingheroversizeschnoz.Itgaveherfacecharacter.

Lauren was the most skillful shoplifter Helen had ever seen. While she talked toChristina about the rain and the fall fashions, she slipped a two-hundred-seventy-five-dollar top, a two-thousand-dollar dress, and a four-hundred-dollar scarf into her blackGuccibackpack.HelenwouldneverhavenoticedthevanishingmerchandiseifChristinahadnotalertedher.

Laurenalsoboughttwodressesandasuit.Christinaactedasifnothingwaswrong.SherangupLauren’spurchasesandignoredthebulgingbackpack.Whensheleft,Christinasighedwithrelief.

“Laurenisakleptomaniac,”shesaid.“A good one, too,”Helen said. “I could hardly keep track of everything that passed

throughherstickyfingers.”“Her husband is a big-time criminal lawyer. Lauren is his third wife, and he really

seemstoloveher,despiteherlittleproblem.”“Maybehelovesthecriminalinher,”Helensaid.Christina smiled. “Whatever. I sendhiman itemizedbill of everything she shoplifts,

andhepays itwithout awhimper. In cash.Hehas themoneydeliveredbymessenger.He’sgratefulthatwedon’tprosecuteher.Moststoresdothesedays,evenifheofferstoreimbursethemdoubletheamount.”

“If Saks can arrest Winona Ryder for shoplifting, Lauren doesn’t stand a chance,”Helensaid.“Nowonderhe’sgrateful.”

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Juliana’slookedlikeabattlegroundafterthebrutalmorning.Shirtshungunbuttoned.Asweaterwasdroppedonachair.Beltsweredrapedoverthesideboard.

Helenstaredupatthefull-lengthoilpaintingofthefortieswomaninthedaringblackdress that hung over the sideboard.Thewoman seemed to survey the disordered storewithdisdain.Hermouthwasacruelred.Hereyesweredarkandhard.Shelookedlikethewickedwomaninanoirfilm,theonewhomadeafoolofthetrustinghero.

“IsthatJuliana?”Helenasked.Christinalaughed.“Areyoukidding?TheownerboughtthispictureatanEpiscopalian

rummagesale.”“Shedoesn’tlookEpiscopalian,”Helensaid.“Shedoesn’t look like the real Juliana, either,”Christina said. “Shewas a short little

woman.Greatbody,goodsenseofstyle,butafacelikeafrog.Nowadays,plasticsurgerywouldhavetakencareofherproblems.”Christinasighedat thethoughtof thewomanborntoosoontobesaved.

“Julianawas the original owner’smother.Mr.Roget—Gilbert’s father—founded thestore in1965 andmade a fortune.Hehad the touch.Heknewwhat Juliana’swomenliked.”

Money,thoughtHelen.“His sonGilbert took it overwhenMr.Roget died, butGilbert doesn’t havemuch

interest infashion.Hehasanaircharterbusiness inToronto.AllGilbertcaresabout iscashingthosechecks.HecomesdownforoneweekinDecember,knownasHellWeek.Therestofthetime,weneverseehim,thankGod.

“Nowyouknow Juliana’sbig secret,”Christina said lightly. “Tell anyone about thatpainting,andI’llhavetohaveyoukilled.”

Helen laughed, even though Christina’s words sounded oddly threatening. MaybeHelenwasjusttired.

“This is the firstbreakwe’vehad inhours,”Christinasaid.“Watch thedoor forme,willyou?I’mgoingtothelittlegirls’room.Ifinallyhavetimetopee.”

Helen carried the pile of pants and tops abandoned by the New Yorkers to themahoganysideboardandbeganputting thembackonhangers.Awoodenpantshangerwasmissing.DidLaurenshopliftthat,too?

Helenwent to the front counter to get another hanger out of the box.The bill forLauren’s shoplifting spree was next to the cash register. It was for three thousand sixhundredseventy-fivedollars—exactlyonethousandmorethanHelensawLaurensteal.

Helenreadthelist.ItsaidLaurenhadtakenablouseandabelt,alongwiththeitemsHelensawherswipe.MaybeLaurenhelpedherselftotheminthedressingroom.ExceptChristinadidn’ttakeanybeltsorblousesintothedressingroom.Helencountedalltheclotheswhentheywentinandagainwhentheycameout.

Butshedidn’thavetimetopuzzleovertheproblem.Alargewomanrangthedoorbell.Helen was about to buzz her inside when Christina came out of the back screaming,“Stop!”

“What’swrong?”Helensaid,frightenedbyherdesperateshriek.“Don’t lether in.She’s fat!”Christinasaid.Shesoundedashorrifiedas ifHelenwas

admittingaserialkiller.

18

“Sowhat?”Helensaid.“She’snicelydressed.She’swearingCaroleLittle.”“Her clothes may be Little, but she’s too big. There’s nothing she can buy in this

store.”Christinathrewherselfinfrontofthebuzzer.“Thosefive-hundred-dollareveningpurseswouldfitjustfine,”Helensaid.“Whatifshetoldsomeonesheboughtthemhere?”“What’swrongwith that?Shemighthavea slimsisterora size-sixdaughter,”Helen

said.“WhatifmyBrazilianssawher?TheyalreadythinkAmericansarecows.”“WhocareswhattheBraziliansthink?HalfthepeopleinRioliveincardboardboxes.

They’re really thin, and your precious Brazilians don’t care. Besides, their money ispracticallyworthless.”

“Nothere it isn’t,”Christinasaid.Thewomanlookedinandtappedonthewindowglass.Shehadbigbrowneyes,aroundprettyface,andcurlydarkhair.

“Wait,Iknowthatwoman,”Helensaid.“It’sSarah.SheusedtoliveinmyapartmentattheCoronado.ShewasnicetomewhenImovedin.I’mlettingherin.Youcanfiremeforinsubordination.”ShebumpedChristinaoutofthewaywithonehipandpressedthebuzzer.

Butwhenthegreendoorswungopen,Sarahdidnotwalkin.Shewasgone.Instead,itwasoneofChristina’sblastedBrazilians.BiancawasapreternaturallyperkysizefourwhowasmarriedtoaBrazilianindustrialist.

ChristinahadtoldHelenthatJuliana’sBrazilianwomengotplasticsurgerydoneatamuchearlieragethanAmericans.“Theystartintheirtwenties.ThefirstthingBraziliansdo is get their largebreasts reduced, so they look slimmer,”Christina said approvingly.“That’satrickAmericanwomenshouldlearn.ToooftentheAmericansgoforthebiggestfakeboobs,andthentheirclothesneverlookgoodonthem.”

Biancahadhadherthighsandbellyliposuctioned,hernosebobbed,hereyesdone,andtwo ribs removed so her waist looked smaller, Christina told her.Helen could see forherself that Bianca’s dark hair was streaked with expensive blonde highlights, and herteethhadbeenwhitened.

Helen examined this monument to Brazilian body sculpting. She thought Biancalooked spooky. She’d seen chicken wings with more meat on them. Helen felt like alinebackernexttothissmidgenofawoman.

ChristinarushedforwardtogreetBianca,lipspursedforanairkiss.Afterninetyminutesofnonstopchatter,Biancaboughtawispofapaintedsilkdress

andtwohandkerchief-sizedblousesforthirty-twohundreddollars.“Sendthebilltomyhusband,ofcourse,”Biancasaid.“And,Christina,wouldyoubea

dearandshiptheclothestomyhouseinRio,FederalExpress?IwanttowearthedressMondaynight.”

“Delighted,”Christinasaid.“Butyouknowshippingiscashinadvance.Yourhusbandcan pay the taxes and duty on arrival. Let me check the rate.” She ran a manicuredfingernaildownaratechartbehindthecashregisterandnamedaheftysum.

Biancadidn’tblink.Shepulledabigwadofbillsoutofhertinypurseandpaid.But the amountmadeHelen raiseher eyebrows.Sheknewhow to crunchnumbers,

and Bianca’s whole purchase, including the box, wouldn’t weigh four pounds, max.

19

Christinahadoverchargedthewomanbyatleastthreehundreddollars.Was Juliana’s head saleswoman skimming the extra cash? Did she make more than

threehundreddollarsfromBiancaandanotherthousandfromLaurenthatmorning?HelenbegantowonderaboutChristina.

20

Chapter3

Therentwasduetoday.Margery,her landlady,wouldbeknockingon thedoor inhalf anhour.Fearcoldas

cemetery fog settled inonHelen.Shedidn’thaveenoughmoney for the rent.Shewasshortby forty-onedollars.Panic seizedher stomach, and she felt sick anddizzy.Helendidn’ttakeuncertaintywell.Shewasmeanttogetafatweeklypaycheckwithpensionandbenefits,notlivefromhandtomouth.

SherememberedheroldlifeinSt.Louiswithitscarelessluxuries.Helenneverthoughttwiceabout themanicures,massages,andhundred-dollarhaircuts.Sheusedtopassouttwenty-dollartipslikebusinesscards.

ButthatwasbeforeshecamehomefromworkandfoundRobkissingtheirneighborSandy. Their liplock was so passionate, Helen couldn’t have pried them apart with acrowbar.Andshehadacrowbarrightthere,nexttoRob’selectricscrewdriver.Helenstillrememberedhowitfeltwhenshepickedupthecrowbarandswungitashardasshecould—and heard that satisfying crunch. The rest of her memory seemed to come back inflashes:thehorriblesceneincourt,herhurriedflightfromSt.Louis,herlongzigzagdriveacrossthecountrytothrowoffanypursuers.

Andnow,thelong,slowdaysinSouthFlorida.Daysthatwerepleasantandsunny,atleastmostofthetime.JanuaryinFloridawasasclosetoheavenasHelenwaslikelytoget.Eventoday’srainbeatJanuaryinSt.Louis.Backhome,Helenwouldhavebeenscrapingiceoffherwindshieldandslidingtoworkonslipperyroads.She’dbeshiveringinaheavywoolcoatanddampsmellyboots.Now,afterwork,shekickedoffhersuitandheelsandputonhercutoffsandsandals.

IfHelenwasbeingreallyhonest,theonlythingshemissedaboutheroldjobwasthemoney.Pensionsandbenefitsboredhersilly.Shewasgladshe’descapedthat.ButwhensheranfromSt.Louis,shecondemnedherselftotheprisonoflow-paying,dead-endjobs.She couldn’t take a decent job. She couldn’t have credit cards or a bank account. Shewouldbetooeasytotrace.

SoHelenwent frommakingmore than a hundred thousand a year to twohundredsixty-eightdollarsaweekatJuliana’s.Aftershepaidherrent,therewasn’tmuchleftforfoodandelectricityandothernecessities.Andthatworriedher.Allthetime.

Helenthrewherselfwearilyonthebed,andtheoldspringscreaked.Thelumpypillowsandturquoisechenillespreadsmelledslightlyoftheever-presentFloridamoldandheat.She liked it. Itwas a vacation smell.Helendidn’t turn on thewindow air conditioneruntilhalfanhourbeforebedtime,tocutdownherelectricbill.

21

ShepickedupChocolate,thefatbrownteddybearonherbed,unzippedhisback,andfeltinside.Chocwasastuffedbearallright.Hewasstuffedwithallheravailablecash.Shecountedouttherentmoneyforthetenthtime.Thebearhadnotgrownfatterovernight.Helenwasstill forty-onedollarsshort.Shecheckedherpurse.Twodollarsandseventy-eightcents.Therewasn’tastraypennyinthesofacushions.

Itwasworsethanshethought.Wheredidhermoneygo?She’dboughtpantyhoseonTuesday.Shegotaruninher

DonnaKarancontroltops,andnailpolishdidnotstopit.Twelvedollarsfornewones.HelenhadtohavetheonlyjobinSouthFloridathatrequiredstockings,andtallwomencould not buy cheap pantyhose. They weren’t long enough. The dry cleaning for herblacksuitwasanotherjobexpense.Andonenight,whenshewasreallyfeelingwild,sheorderedapepperonipizza.

Helenhadanotherweekuntilpayday.She’dhavetodipintoherstash.She patted Chocolate on the back like a burped baby, then pulled down the

miniblinds,double-lockedthedoor,andopenedtheutilitycloset.WedgedbetweenthewaterheaterandthewallwastheoldSamsonitesuitcaseshegotforherhighschooltriptoWashingtonD.C.Insidewasamoundofshabbyold-ladyunderwearsheboughtatayardsale for twenty-fivecents.Helen figurednoburglarwould touchthecottoncircle-stitchedbras, snagged support hose, and enormous flower-spriggedpanties.Under thatgraying cotton and stretched elastic was all the money she had in the world: seventhousand three hundred and twenty-four dollars.Minus, after today, another forty-onebucks.

Shecountedoutthemoney,promisedherselfthatshewouldreplaceitthispaycheck,andknewshewouldnot.

HelenhadarrivedinFloridaamonthagowithtenthousanddollarsincash.Itwasashocktolearnthatlandlordsheredemandedasecuritydepositplusfirstandlastmonth’srent.Thatateupnineteenhundredfiftydollars.Herworthlesscarneededeighthundreddollarsinrepairs,andHelendidn’twanttospendthemoneytofixit.Shewalkedtoworkandhitchedrides to the supermarketwith folksat theCoronadoapartments.But thereweretimeswhenherpridewouldn’tlethermoochanymore,andshetookacab.She’dneeded a root canal three weeks ago. That was five hundred dollars, and the painprescriptionwasthirty-eightdollars.Shehadnomedicalinsurance,either.

HelenhadthoughtshewasluckywhenshelandedajobatthedinerthedayshearrivedinFortLauderdale,withinwalkingdistanceofwhereshewasstaying.TheownerwasaflabbyGreekinastainedwhiteapronwhohadamustachelikeadeadmouse.ThemanbeamedwhenHelen asked to be paid in cash.HisEnglishwas uncertain, but “off thebooks”werethreewordsheunderstood.Helenmadedecentmoneyintips,too.Alsooffthebooks.

On the third day, she dropped a trayful of glassware in the kitchen. “I’m so sorry,”Helensaid.

“Dat’sOK.Wefindawaytomakeitup,”theflabbyGreeksaid,andheputhissweatyhandsrightonherbreastsandrubbedhisgrossgutagainstherbelly.

Helenreachedbehindher,foundameatmallet,andhittherandyGreekonhishead.Thenshewalkedoutthedinerdoorwithoutcollectingherpay.

22

ShepoundedthepavementforanothertendaysbeforeshefoundthejobatJuliana’s,andthatwassheerluck.Sherry,theprevioussalesassociate,didnotshowupforworkoneMonday.Herphonewasdisconnected, andher landlord saidSherryhadmovedout inthemiddleofthenight,owingbackrent.ThathappenedalotinSouthFlorida.

ChristinahadbeenrunningtheshopbyherselfforalmostaweekwhenHelenwalkedinlookingforwork.Shewashiredonthespot.Themoneywasn’tasgoodasatthediner,buteverytimeHelenthoughtoflookingforsomethingbetter,sherememberedtheGreekgrippingherbreastswithhandslikehairysuctioncups.

Thesuitcasesnappedshutwithatired snick.Helenfelttired,too.Shewantedtoputupherachingfeet.Herapartmentwastworooms,abedroomthatopenedontoapatioandabigger roomthat servedas livingroom,kitchen,anddiningroom.The furniturewasfromthe1950s.SomeNewYorkdecoratorwouldpayafortunefortheboomerangcoffee table and the turquoise lamps shaped like nuclear reactors.The turquoise couchhad an exuberant black triangle pattern. But the piece she loved most was a genuineBarcalounger.Lord,thatmonsterwascomfortable.

BeforeHelencouldthrowherselfintoit,thedoorbellrang.Throughtheglassslatsofthejalousiedoor,shesawherlandlady,MargeryFlax,withatallglassinonehandandacigaretteintheother.

Margerywalkedintotheroomlikesheownedit,whichshedid.“Here,drinkthis.YouneedyourVitaminC,”shesaid,shovingtheglassintoHelen’shand.

Helen sniffed the glass. It looked like orange juice, but it smelled sort of bitter andperfume-y.Therewasalimesliceontherim.

“What’sthis?”“Ascrewdriver,”Margerysaid.“Only in South Florida do sweet old ladies fix you screwdrivers so you get your

VitaminC,”Helensaid.“I’mnot sweet, I’mno lady, and I’mnot old,”Margery said indignantly. “I’monly

seventy-six.”“You’reright.Iwasbeingageist,”Helensaidcontritely.“Well,I’mnotthatyoung,either,”Margerysaid.“ButIdon’tgoonaboutit.”Seventy-sixyearsintheFloridasunhadleftMargery’sfairskinasbrownandwrinkled

asanoldpaperbag.TwopacksofMarlborosadaydidn’thelp.Juliana’scustomerswouldbehorrifiedbyMargery’sskin.ButHelenthoughtMargery’slived-infacewasattractive.Margery had shrewd brown eyes and straight gray hair that curved at her chin. Shepaintedhertoenailsbrightred,woreasilvertoeringandsexyItaliansandals.“Thelegsarethelasttogo,”Margerysaid,andsheshowedoffhersinpurpleshorts.

Margerywas a commandingwoman.After orderingHelen to drink the screwdriver,Margerynoworderedheroutoftheapartment.

“It’sanicenight.Goonoutbythepoolandtalktopeople.Peggy’soutthere.”“WhataboutCal?”Helensaid.“Hah,”Margerysnorted,andblewsmokeouthernoselikeadragon.“Thattightwad.

Whatdoyouseeinhim?”“Ilikethewayhesays‘ah-boot’for‘about.’”“Now,there’sthebasisforagoodrelationship,”Margerysaid.

23

Cal was a snowbird from Toronto. He was forty-five and divorced, with a nicelyweatheredfaceandgoodlegs.Helenlikedawell-shapedcalf,anddownhere,wheremenworeshortstoalmosteverythingbutfunerals,shehadmuchtoadmire.

“Calisintelligentandagoodtalker.IlovelisteningtohisstoriesaboutCanada.”“Talkischeap,”Margerysaid.“AndsoisCal.”“Oh,Margery,you’resoprejudicedagainstCanadians.They’renicequietpeople.They

makegoodtourists.Theyneverkillthemselvesbydivingintoswimmingpoolsfromthetenth floor, like the drunken college kids at spring break. And not all Canadians arecheap.”

“Oh,yeah?”Margerysaid,cigarettedanglingfromherliplikeamovietough.“Don’tevergotodinnerwithhim.Listen,sweetie,I’vegotadsinthepapertorent2C.I’llfindyou someone better thanCal.” She tookHelen’s rentmoney and disappeared out thedoorinacloudofsmoke.

Helenturnedonthefantochaseoutthecigarettesmoke.Nowshewouldhavetogositbythepooljusttobreathe.ShelovedMargerybutwishedshewouldn’tgoonaboutthe cheap Canadians. South Florida residents had a love-hate relationship with theirCanadian visitors,who showed up aboutNovember andwent back north after Easter.TheFloridiansneededtheirtouristdollarsbutclaimedtheCanadianswerecheap.Serverscalled them “special waters,” because so many Canadians ordered the cheapest dinnerspecialanddrankonlyfreetapwater.

Helen opened her sliding glass patio door and stepped into the warm, soft Floridanight.Shewasimmediatelyenvelopedinacloudofmarijuanasmokefromtheapartmentnextdoor.PhiltheinvisiblepotheadlivednexttoHelen.She’dneverseenhimthewholetimeshe’d livedthere.Infact, shewouldnotbelievePhilexisted if shedidn’tsmell thepungentpotwaftingthroughhisjalousiedoors.

TheCoronadoTropic Apartments looked glamorous in the subtropic evening light.Margery and her long-dead husband built the apartments in 1949. The two-story ArtDecobuildinghadanexuberantS-curve.Thesweepinglinesweresomewhatspoiledbytherusty,rattlingairconditionersthatstuckoutofthewindowslikerudetongues.TheCoronadowaspaintedice-creamwhitewithturquoisetrimandbuiltaroundaturquoise-tiledswimmingpool.

Calwassittingontheedgeofthepool,hispaleCanadianlegsdanglinginthewater.Helen liked it thatCalwore a cleanwhiteT-shirt.Toomanymen inFlorida proudlydisplayedbighairybellies.

Peggy,in2B,wassittingnexttoCal.Peggywaswearingablackone-piecesuitandagreen parrot on her shoulder. A live parrotwith a pretty patch of gray feathers on hisbreast.PeggyneverwentanywherewithoutPete,herQuakerparrot.SheeventookPetetoheroffice.PetswerestrictlyforbiddenattheCoronado,sowhenMargerywasaround,everyonehadtopretendPetedidn’texist.Itwasn’teasy.Peteletoutthemostferocioussquawks.

SinceMargerywasnotthere,Helengentlystrokedthebird’ssoftfeathers.Theparrotdanced back and forth onPeggy’s shoulder, flapped hiswings once, and settled down.Peggydidnot.ShegrewincreasinglyagitatedasshetalkedwithCal.“Don’tblameme,”shesnapped.“Ididn’tvoteforhim.”

24

“ThatcouldnothappeninCanada,”Calsaid.“Oursystemofgovernmentwouldnotpermitit.”

Avoiceontheothersideofthebougainvilleasaid,“IfCanadaissuchagreatplace,Cal,whyaren’tyouthere?”

OutsteppedMargery,defenderofAmerica,inpurpleshortsandredtoenails.“Well?”shesaid.ShefoldedherarmsandwaitedforCal’sanswer.EveryoneknewCal

onlywenthometoTorontolongenoughtoqualifyforhisfreenationalhealthinsurance.ThenhereturnedtoFlorida.

“I never said America was bad,” Cal said finally. “I said Canada did some thingsbetter.”

“Squaaak!”Petesaid.Helenjumped.Everyoneelsepolitelyignoredtheparrot.“ThinkI’llturnin,”Calsaid.“Me,too,”Helensaid.ShedidnotlikethewayMargeryhadtreatedCal.Helen andCalwalked back to their apartments, palm treeswhispering behind their

backs.Helen,who could always talk toCal, suddenly felt shy.He seemed tongue-tied,too.Finally,hesaid,“Wanttocomein?IfoundsomeMolson’sonsale.”

“No,thanks,”Helensaid.“I’mtired,andIhavetogetupearlyforworktomorrow.”Shestudiedhisfaceinthefadinglight.Cal’slipswerealittlethin,andhisnosewasa

littlelongtobetrulyhandsome.Butthegrayeyeswereintelligent.Itwasastrongface,she decided. Manly. His blond hair had gone to gray at the sideburns. It lookeddistinguished.Hisneckwasjustright,nottoothickortooscrawny.Hisshouldersweremuscular.Shewasafraidtoconsideranythinglower.Helenfelttoolonely.Ithadbeenalongtimesinceshehadbeenwithaman,andherex-husbandhadhurtherbadly.

“WouldyouliketogotodinnerthisSaturdaynight?”Calsaid.HelenthoughtofMargery’swarning.“Yes, I would,” she said, defiantly, as if Margery were listening. “I’d like that very

much.”“Good,”hesaid.“Iwasthinkingah-boot”—There.He’dsaiditagain.Helenlovedthe

wayCal pronounced that word.—“going toCap’s Place. It’s an old Florida restaurantfromtherum-runningdays.Youcanonlyreachitbyboat.”

“Butyoudon’thaveaboat,”Helensaid.“They’llsendonetopickusup,”Calsaid.Suddenly,Helendidn’tfeeltiredatall.Shefeltlikeshewaswalkingonrichlyscented

clouds.NotallofthosecloudswereherneighborPhil’spotsmoke,either.

25

Chapter4

OnFriday,HelenmetChristina’sboyfriend,Joe.She’d heard Christina talking to Joe on the phone almost daily at the store. Helen

cringedeverytimeshethoughtofthoseconversations.Christina’svoicewouldgetlittle-girlcute,andshe’dsay,“Whateveryouwant,BigBeary-Warey. Iwantwhatyouwant.No,no,you’retheimportantone.Myopiniondoesn’tmatter.Now,whatwouldyoulikefordinner?”

Ugh. It was pathetic, Helen thought. So 1950s. She couldn’t understand how thecleverChristinacouldabaseherselfforthisman.Shehopedhewasworthit.

Helen didn’t knowmuch about Joe except he’dmade a lot ofmoney in real estate.Christina toldher thathe“ownedabunchofwarehouses aroundPortEverglades,” themajorLauderdaleshippingarea.

Christina was desperate to marry Joe. Helen knew she had a condo in low-rentSunnyseaBeach,butshespentmostweekendswithJoeinhisfive-bedroommansioninFortLauderdale.

Ever since shemoved in with Joe, Christina had expected an engagement ring. Shethoughtshe’dgetoneforChristmas.Nowherbirthdaywascomingup.JoesaidhehadtobeintheKeysonbusiness,buthepromisedtobringChristinaabirthdaypresentfromKeyWest.Hesaiditwouldbe“special”and“justwhatshe’dalwayswanted.”

Joewas also stoppingby thatmorningbefore he left for his trip.Christinawas in adither at this unusual honor. She’d changed into three outfits before she settled on adramatic scoop-front, hot-pink Moschino number with purple Fendi mules. Helenthought the ensemble looked hookerish. It was the fashionmistake an unsure womanwouldmake.Christinawasnotconfidentofherlover.

ChristinakeptlookingoutthefrontwindowuntilshespottedJoe’sfire-engineredcarasitwentdownLasOlas.“It’sJoe’sFerrari!”shesaid,asexcitedasateenageronherfirstdate. In South Florida, when a man made a lot of new money, he either bought ahundred-footyachtoraFerrari.

“It’s a Ferrari Barchetta,” Christina said, as if that should mean something. WhenHelen didn’t respond, she said, “There are only four hundred forty-eight in thewholeworld.”

“Whydidhedriveby?There’svaletparkingrightinfront,”Helensaid.“Helikestousethemeters,”Christinasaid.Shesoundeddefensive.Anickelsqueezer,Helenthought.Theguy’sdrivingaFerrariandsavingfivebuckson

parking.

26

Christinarantohitthebuzzer,andJoewalkedthroughthegreendoor,aconqueringheroholdinghiscellphonelikeascepter.DressedinblackHugoBoss,Joelookedlikethehighschoolbullyallgrownup.Hisdarkwavyhairhadasmall,angrybaldpatchonthecrown.Hisfacewassquareandscowling.Hehadbeefyshouldersandanaggressivewalk.

Christinaseemedtogrowsmalleraroundhim.Sheflutteredabout,kissinghim,pattinghim,hugginghim.

SheintroducedHelen,thensaidtoJoe,“Doyoulikemyoutfit?”“It’snice,”hesaid indifferently.“Butareyougettingagut?”Helenhadn’tnoticed it

before,butChristinahad a tinybulge around themiddle.Unfortunately,her revealingoutfitshowedit.

“Areyou?”HelensaidtoJoe.Sheknewitwasrude,butHelencouldn’tstandthehurtlook inChristina’seyes.Likea lotofpowerfulmen inLauderdale, Joewasoverweight,butexpectedthewomenhedatedtoberail-thin.

Tohersurprise, Joe laughedandpattedhis substantial stomach.“Yeah,honey,Iam.Can’thelpit.It’sgeneric.”

Hemeansgenetic,Helenthought.Ican’tbelieveChristinawantstomarrythisdolt.Joestayedtenminutesandtookthreephonecallswhilehewasthere.Christinalooked

crestfallenwhenhe left. “Hedidn’tkissmegood-bye.Whydidn’tyou tellme that theMoschinomademelookfat?”shesaidtoHelen.

“Becauseyoudon’tlookfat,”Helensaid.But Christina would not be consoled. She weighed herself in the stockroom. “I’ve

gainedtwopounds,”shesaidtragically,asifannouncingshehadcancer.Christinaateoneplainricecakeforlunchanddrankonlywater.Shewasdetermined

tostarvethetwopoundsoffbythetimeJoecamebackhome.“Mygutisheinous,”shesaid.HeinouswasafavoriteJuliana’sword,usuallyappliedto

suchtragediesasapimpleorabrokenfingernail.Christina tookoutherangeron thewomen trying toget into Juliana’s.She rejected

one because she had on aTommyHilfigerT-shirt and another because shewore goldmoccasins.AthirdwasrefusedforafakeRolex,althoughhowChristinacouldtellfromsofarawayHelendidnotknow.

“Andlookatthisone,”Christinasaid,asshebuzzedinablondewithaJuliana’sdressbag.“Melissawantstoreturnadress.Guessshedoesn’tknowaboutourpolicy.”

Melissawasalittleblondewithlargeimplants,asmallchin,andsexy,slightlypopped,gray eyes. Her pale, aristocratic, oval face made her look like she’d stepped out of aneighteenth-centuryEnglishpainting, except theupper crust didn’t showquite somuchmidriffbackthen.

Yesterday,MelissaboughtagoldArmanieveninggownthatbaredherbonybackandshoulders.Aday later,Melissawas bringing it back.The longblackbagwith Juliana’snameinhotpinktrailedbehindher.Melissa’shairwasslidingoutofitsFrenchroll,andthegrayeyeswereslightlyred.Shelookedlikeshe’dhadalatenight.

“I’mreturningthisdress,”Melissasaid.“Myboyfriendhatesit.”Thegownhadbeenworn.Helencouldseesweatstainsunderthearmpitsandmakeup

ontheneckline.Melissawastryinganoldretailingscam:youworeanexpensivedresstosomeevent,thenreturneditthenextday.

27

“Wehaveaone-return,no-returnpolicy,”Christinasaid.“What’s thatmean?”Melissa said, with an imperious tone tomatch her aristocratic

looks.“Youcanreturnadressonce,butthenyoucanneverreturn.”Melissa looked shocked.Herpale oval facewent a shadewhiter. Shehad tomake a

quick decision. An Armani gown was major money. Melissa would either lose severalthousanddollarsnoworherentréetoJuliana’sforever.

“I...IthinkIcouldpersuadehimtochangehismind,”Melissasaid.Thearistocrat,suddenlyhumbled,pickedthebagoffthecounter.

“Asmartwomanknowshowtotellamanwhattothink,”Christinasaid.ThenwhydidJoethinkyouwerefat?Helenwondered.AssoonasMelissaleft,Christinabeganagonizingagainaboutherweight.“DoIlook

fatinthisoutfit,Helen?Isitjustmygutthat’sfat,oramIputtingweightonmybutt,too? Is that cellulite onmy thighs?Do you see any cellulite?Tellme the truth, now.”WhenHelencouldn’ttakeanymore,shefledtothebackroom,sayingshehadtomakeapersonalphonecall.

Helen rummaged in her unfashionably large purse until she found her Filofax andlookedupSarah’shomephonenumber.HelenhadrentedSarah’soldapartmentat theCoronado.They’dmetwhenshewasshowntheapartmentandhititoffinstantly.Sarahhad left her ameal in the fridge onmoving day, a gestureHelen appreciated. They’dpromisedtogettogetherbutneverdid.NowsheowedSarahanapologyfornotopeningthegreendooryesterday.

HelenleftamessageonSarah’smachineandhopedshewouldcallback.ThankGod, two favorites came in that afternoon todistractChristina:Brittney and

Tiffany.Therewerenoothercustomersforalmostanhour.Thewomenloungedontheblackloveseats,talkinglikegirlsatapajamapartyaboutclothesandboyfriends.Juliana’swomenalwayshadboyfriends,neverlovers.

Brittney, thewomanwho couldnot frown,wore an ice-bluepantsuit thatmadehersapphire-blueeyeshypnotic.Hermatchingsapphire-studdedRolexwasprettyhypnotic,too.

Tiffanywasthewomanwiththebadeyejob.Shedidlookpermanentlystartled,Helenthought, but it was cute on her. Tiffany reminded Helen of Bambi caught in theheadlights. Shewore a candy-pink pants outfit with frothy ruffles down the front andaroundthehips.Herplatinumhairlookedlikespunsugarandherlipswerecherryred.Her implants bulged out of her blouse.Tiffany’s elderly boyfriendhad paid for herDcups,she’dtoldHelenlastweek,because“helikedtogethishandsonhismoney.”

“YoulookjustlikeJayneMansfield,”Helensaid.“Whoththat?”Tiffanysaid,lookingadorablyblank.“Amoviestar,”Helensaid.“Thathnithe,”Tiffanysaid,lookingpleased.“Whatmoviethhaththeebeenin?”“Noneanymore,”Christinasaid.“She’sdead.Andwhyareyoulisping?”“Juthhadmytonguepierthed,”Tiffanysaid,andstuckouthertonguetorevealagold

stud.“Ithouldtalkfineinadayortwo.”Helenwasrepulsed.“Whywouldyouwantyourtonguepierced?”shesaid.

28

BrittneysnortedEvianwaterthroughhernose.Christinarolledhereyes.Helenknewshe’dsaidsomethinghopelesslyMidwestern.OnlyTiffanytookherquestionseriously.

“Theoralthexithfantathtic,”shesaid,andgiggled.“What?”Helensaid.“Shesaystheoralsexisfantastic,”Brittneysaid.Tiffanygiggledagain.“No,myboyfriendthayththat.”Then theyall shriekedwith laughter like schoolgirls.Helenwasactuallywiping tears

fromhereyes.Itfeltgoodtolaughthishard.Shelovedthisstore.ShehadtobewrongaboutChristinaskimmingmoney.Shehadtobe.

“Speakingofboyfriends,how’sJoe?”Brittneysaidinthatsoft,sighingvoice,andHelencouldfeelthemoodshift.

“Hewon’t be in town formy birthday.He has to go to theKeys. Butwe’re goingclubbingwhenhegetsback.”

“Whichones?”Brittneysaid.“Kiss?Tantra?Rain?IhopehetakesyoutoMynt.It’stheprettiest.Theypipescentslikesageandmintthroughtheairconditioner.DidItellyouIsaw Queen Latifah there one night? And the Back-street Boys? Of course Bash isreopening.Thatmightbefun.IpartiedthereonenightwithSeanPenn.”

ButChristinaknewhowtoyankthespotlightback.“IwastherethenightLeonardoDiCaprio whipped off his shirt and danced on a speaker,” she said. “Titanic had justopenedanditwashuge.”

“Titanic,even,”Helensaid.Everyoneignoredher.“But that’s not the best part. Joe has promised to bring me something special,”

Christinasaid.Hervoicewastooneutral.“Oooh,”Tiffanysaid.“Iththiththeringatlatht?”“Ihopeso.ButI’dsettleforatennisbracelet.”“Youwouldnot.Youwantthering,”Brittneysaid.Christinanodded.“I’vewaitedlongenough,”shesaid.“Thisisput-uporshut-uptime.

I’malmostforty.Iwanttobemarried.”“It’soverrated,”Helensaid.“Iwasmarriedforseventeenyears.”“Divorced is better than never being married,” Christina said. “At least some man

wanted you enough to stand up at an altar and say so.No one’s everwantedme thatway.”

“They juthwantuth everyotherway,”Tiffany said, and it sounded sadderwithherlisp.

“But notwhenwe’re old andwrinkled.Not forever,”Brittney said in that caressingwhisper,andforonceHelencouldseetheemotioninherbeautifulexpressionlessface.

“Itwasn’tforever,”Helensaid.“Itwasonlyforseventeenyears.”“That’s forever forus,” she sighed. Inseventeenyears,Brittneywouldbebeyondthe

helpofanyBraziliandoctor.Itwasn’ttruethatnomanwantedtomarrythem,Helenthought.Lotsofinteresting,

honorablemenwouldwantthemfortheirbrides.Butitwastruethatnosuper-richmanwouldmarrythem.Helenfelt sorry forthesewaiflikewomen.Sheknewtheywere inatrapoftheirowndevising,butitwasstillalonelyone.Shewasrelievedwhenthedoorbellrang,andshedidn’thavetoanswerBrittney.

29

Christinalookedup.“It’sVenetia.”“Ihavetogo.Ican’tstandthatwoman,”Brittneysaid.“Meeither,”Tiffanysaid.VenetiawaseventhinnerthanmostofJuliana’swomen.Shelookedlikeanarticulated

skeleton in aChanel suit.When she stretched out her hand to examine a shirt,Helenthought shecouldcountall twenty-sixbones.Venetia’swristwasacollectionofknobs.Shehada strange, jitterywayofmovingandanodddirty look toher skin.HelenwasgladthatVenetiaignoredher.

“Iwantoneof your specialpurses,” she said toChristina, “and Iwant itnow.”Hervoicewasharshandhigh.

“Ihavealovelylittlebeaded1920snumber.”“Fine.Getit.Rightnow,”Venetiaordered.WhileshewaitedforChristinatoreturn,thestickwomanbouncedimpatientlyupand

downonone foot, twirledherhair, scratchedherarm.VenetiamadeHelensonervousthatshemovedtothemahoganysideboardandstartedfoldingasweaterthatdidnotneedfolding. Itwas cashmere, light and luxurious. Just touching itwas apleasure, soHelenfoldedandrefoldeditwhileshewaitedforChristinatoreturn.

Christinahada sideline sellingeveningpurses that sheboughtat rummage sales andantiqueshops.Shecleanedtheirdelicatesilverclasps,restoredtheirbeading,andputinnew silk linings.Theywere collectibles.Theymustbe addictive,Helen thought. SomewomencameintwoorthreetimesamonthforChristina’spurses.Helencouldseewhy.She’dcollectthemifshehadthemoney.Theywereminiatureworksofart.

Thewomenalwayspaidcash,andHelenfiguredChristinamusthavesomedealwiththestoreowner,whereMr.Rogetgotacut.Shekeptthepursesonaspecialshelfhighinthestockroom,sotheywouldn’tgetmixedupwiththeregularstock.

Christinacameoutcarryinganexquisitelittleblackbeadednumberwithapinkheartinthecenterandanornatesilverclasp.

“Letmeseetheinside,”Venetiasaid.“It’spinksilk,”Christinasaid.“Theclaspistricky.I’llopenitforyou.”ButVenetia impatiently ripped the purse fromChristina’s hands. It flew open, and

brightlycoloredcandiesscatteredalloverthecarpet.No,wait.Thatwasn’tcandy,Helenthought.Thosewerepillsandcapsules.OhGod.

Drugs.That’swhatwasinthespecialpurses.Shedidn’twanttoseethis.Helen picked up the sweater and, hugging it like a teddy bear, she carried it to the

stockroomandstayedthere.WhatwasChristinadoing?Helenaskedherself.DoesshethinkI’msostupidIwon’t

noticesheissellingdrugsandskimmingmoney?Exactly,Helendecided.Iamnaiveaboutthingsliketonguepiercing.ButIworkedina

corporationfortwentyyears.IknowacrookwhenIseeone.In a way,Helen didn’t blameChristina. The head saleswomanmade thousands for

Juliana’s cheap owner and was paid only eighteen thousand a year, plus a miserlycommission. There was no way anyone could live well on that money. Not the wayChristinahadtodressforthisjob.

Helen would have to make some decisions. Should she say something to the store

30

owneraboutChristina’sdrugdealing?Heshouldknowifillegalactivitiesweregoingoninhisstore.ButwhatifMr.Rogetwasgettingacutonthesaleofthepurses’contents?Thestoreownerhungontohisnickels.Didhelovemoneyenoughtoturnablindeyetodrugsalesinhisownstore?HehadtheperfectexcuseifChristinawascaught:hewasfaraway,inanothercountry.Howcouldheknowwhatwasgoingon?

Whataboutananonymouscalltothepolice?Anotherbadidea.Ifherbosswascaughtdealing, Helen’s reputation could be ruined, too. If Juliana’s was ever raided, Helen’sname couldwindup in thenewspapers, and thatwouldbe adisaster. Shehad to startlookingforanotherjob.

When Helen finally came out of the stockroom, Venetia was gone. Helen’s footcrunchedonsomething,andshepickeditup.Itwasapillaboutthesizeofanaspirin,butyellow.Ithadadesignerlogo.

EvenHelenknewwhatEcstasylookedlike.

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Chapter5

“Joe’sback!”ChristinacrowedwhenHelencameintoworkthenextday.“Hesayshehasmybirthdaypresent,andhewantstogiveittometonight.We’redoingtheSouthBeachclubs first, then going to his house formy present.He says he has something I’ll loveforever.It’saring.Iknowit.”

HelenhadneverseenChristina looksopretty.Her faceseemed lightedfromwithin.Thedeeplinesaroundhermouthwerealmosterased.Herhairshonelikeburnishedgold.

“Joe’s going topickmeupafterwork,” she said. “Ina limo!”Shewasbesideherselfwithexcitement.

Helen hoped that Joe really was going to give Christina a ring. It would solveeverything.Theheadsaleswomanwouldmarryherrichmanandlivehappilyeverafter.She wouldn’t have to skimmoney or sell drugs.Helen wouldn’t have to worry aboutfindinganotherjob.ShecouldstayatJuliana’s.

When she went out for lunch, Helen saw a flyer on a telephone pole that said“WANTED:WOMEN21TO65!Earn$35anhour.Noexperiencenecessary.”Helencalledthenumber.AbaronEastSampleRoadwaslookingforlingeriemodels.

“I’mFrank,theowner,”hesaid.Hisvoiceoozedoutofthephonelikeoil.Snakeoil.“Ourcustomersain’ttheyoungest,yougetmydrift.Ageain’taproblem,longasyougotyourselfagoodfigureandbigboobs.Forty’syoungtothem.Theydon’tmindagood-looking granny. Like ’em better than the young stuff, sometimes. Your older galappreciatestheattentionandain’tsoinhibited,youknowwhatImean?”

HelenhungupthephonewhileFrankwasstilloozing.OnceagainshefelttheGreekdinerowner’sgutbumpagainstherandhishairypawsonherchestandshuddered.HelenwantedthiseveningwithJoetosucceedalmostasmuchasChristinadid.

Whenthestoreclosedatsixthatnight,ChristinawaswaitingforJoeatthegreendoor.ShewaswearingashortblackGuccidress thatmanagedtobare lotsofskinandstill

looksophisticatedinsteadoftrampy.HerlegswereimpossiblylonginhersleekCharlesJourdanheels.Herblondehairwaspulled into a lowknot.Christina looked confidentandreadyforherbrilliantfuture.

“HowdoIlook?”sheaskedHelen.“Stunning,”Helensaid.“Doyouthinkhe’lllikeit?”Christinasaid,andtwirledgracefully.Doyouthinkhe’ll

likeme,wastheunspokenquestion.“He’dbeafoolnotto,”Helensaid.ButshethoughtJoewasafool.Joe’s limousine was a black Mercedes superstretch. The driver opened the door for

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Christina, and she looked so happy,Helenwas afraid for her. The last thing she saw,beforethelimousinedoorclosedwithanexpensivechunk!wereChristina’slong,slenderlegsslidingacrosstheblackleatherupholstery.Theylookedwhiteandvulnerable.

Helen hoped that Joe wouldn’t disappoint Christina again. She resolved not to sayanythingtoChristinatomorrow,nomatterhowgreathercuriosity.Shewouldwait forChristinatotellher.

Helencouldn’tspendanymoretimethinkingaboutChristina.ShehadherowndatewithCalthatnight.Hewaspickingherupatseven.Shewasasexcitedandhopefulasateenager.Helentriedonsixoutfitsandfourpairsofshoesbeforedecidingonaslimblackpantsuitandflatstrappysandals.Shewasdeterminedtolookgracefulwhensheclimbedintotheboat.

Shewonderedifsheshouldbringsomemoney.Wouldtheysplitthetab,orwouldCalpayfortheirmeal?Shedidn’tknowhowdatingworkedanymore,butshewasnotgoingtoaskthewomenatJuliana’s.Helendidn’twanttheirmenortheirlives.

Money is power, woman, she told herself. Give yourself some. She boldly pulled ahundreddollarsoutofChocolatethebearandstuffeditintoherlittleblackpurse.

CalshowedupatherdoorinSouthFloridaformalwear: longkhakipantsandabluecottonshirtopenatthecollarandrolledupatthesleeves.Helenwasasuckerforrolledsleeves.

“You look lovely,”Cal said,andHelenglowed. Ithadbeena long timesinceamanhadadmiredher.

“Youlookprettygoodyourself,”shesaid,andfeltshyagain.ThedrivetoLighthousePointtookalmostanhourinCal’sdentedBuick.Ontheway,

Cal entertained her with stories of his marathon drives from Toronto to Florida, hisdaughter themarketing expert, andhis grandchild, theworld’smost brilliant two-year-old.

“Howlonghaveyoubeendivorced?”shesaid,finally.“Almostfifteenyears.Myex-wifeisafinewoman.”“Youdon’tsoundbitter,”Helensaid.“I’mnot.Thedivorcewasmyownfault.Iwasattheofficeuntillateeverynight,and

shefoundsomeoneelse.”Helenwassilentforamoment.“Whatareyouthinking?”Calsaid.“Howniceit isthatyougotoveryourwife.There’snothingworsethanspendingan

eveningwiththeundivorced.”“Aretheyliketheundead?”Calsaid.“Exactly,”Helensaid.“Liketheundead,theundivorcedareinastateneitherdeadnor

alive.They’reobsessedwiththeirexesandspendthewholeeveningdescribingtheirfaultsanddrainingthelifeoutofyou.”

“Youhaven’tmentionedyourex-husband.Igatheryou’reoverhim?”“Yes,”Helen said, soabruptly it cut theconversation likeanaxblade.Therewas an

awkwardsilenceuntilCalsaid,“Here’stheparkinglotforCap’s.”Calparked,andtheywalkedashortdistancetothedock.Thewaterwaywaslinedwith

high-priced,low-slunghomesandboatsthatwerebiggerandwhiterthantheCoronadoTropicApartments.ButHelensawnosignoftherestaurant,andtherewasnoattendant

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orphoneonthedeserteddock.“HowdoesCap’sknowwe’rehere?”Helensaid.“Theyalwaysdo,”Calsaid.“Iseetheboatnow.”Hepointedtowardanopenmotor

launchheadingtheirway.“ItlooksliketheAfricanQueen,”Helensaid,assheclimbedintotheboat.Sheadmired

the open boat’s beautifully polished wood. On the short ride to the restaurant, Calpointedouttheoldblacklighthousethatgavethepointitsname.Heignoredthetipjar.Maybehewas supposed to.Helendidn’t know the tipping custom forboats that tookyoutoarestaurant.

Alltoosoon,theboatdocked,andtheywalkedupthepathtothelonggrayrestaurant.Helensawthewaterlineonthebuilding’ssidefromalong-agoflood.Arotundyellowcatgreetedthemattheentrance.

“IwonderifKittygotthatfatonCap’sfood?”Calsaid.Helenthoughtitwasnicethathestoppedtopetthecat.

HelenlikedeverythingaboutCap’s:itstimewornwood,thebareyellowlightbulbsinwhite porcelain sockets, even the sound her sandals made on the uneven floors. SheexaminedthephotosofFloridiansfromaround1900,youngmenfishinginheavywoolsuits.“Howcouldtheystandthoseclothesdownhere?”sheaskedCal.

She’dneverhad saladwith freshheartsofpalmbefore.She liked itsoddnutty taste.Shehadthepecan-crustedmahi-mahi.Calhadtheblackenedgrouper.TheybothorderedKeylimepie.

Whenthecheckcame,Calpresentedittoherwithaflourish.“Youpickupthisone,”he said. “The next dinner is on me. I’ll take you to another Florida favorite, CatfishDewey’s.IhavetobeinTampaallweek.CouldyougonextSaturday?”

Helenwassosurprised,sheagreed.Goodthingshe’dbroughtthathundredbucks.Thedinner cost seventy-two dollars. She couldn’t afford it, but she was tired of worryingaboutmoney.Ithadbeenawonderfulevening.

“Maybe I’m the tightwad,” she told herself. But another part answered, “Cal wassupposedtobuythedinner.Heinvitedyou.RememberwhatMargerysaidaboutnevergoingtodinnerwithhim?”

Cap’s boat brought them back by moonrise. The black waterway was sliced by theblindingwhite, rotating, lighthouse beam.Thewedding cake yachtswere lighted now.The interiors were molten gold against the dark velvet sky, but Helen saw no peopleinside.

Helenshiveredinthechillnightair.Calputhisarmaroundher,butshestillfeltcold.

OnMondaymorning,Helendidn’thave toaskhowtheeveningwent.Christina’s facesaiditall.Shelookedtiredandold.Herhairwaslimpandunwashed.Shehadanuglyzitonherchin.Shehadnoringonherfinger.

Christinaslammeddownthephoneonagoodcustomer.Shebrokeanail.Sheyelledatthefloristthattheflowersweren’tfreshenough.Andsherejectedonewould-becustomerafter another, like a Roman empress sending slaves to their deaths. Their fatal fashionerrorsrangedfromcheapshoestobadpants.Helenprayedforthedaytobeover.ShewasafraidnoonewouldgetintoJuliana’stoday.

34

ButBrittneywaftedthroughthegreendoorateleven,lookinggorgeousinaredfloralDiane vonFurstenberg dress and incredibly high SergioRossi heels. She put her daintyfootrightinherprettypinkmouth.

“So,whatwas the surprise fromKeyWest?”Brittney said in that caressingwhisper.“DidJoegiveyouaring?Atennisbracelet?”

“Agoddamncat,”Christinasnarled.“Allthatforafuckingcat.”HelenhadneverheardChristinausethosewordsbefore.“Butyoulikecats,”Brittneysaid.“You’vebeensayingyouwantedoneformonths.”“And Joe’s been saying he’s going to get me a ring for months. Instead I got a

counterfeitcat.”“It’snotarealcat?”Brittneylookedconfused.Helendid,too.“Ofcourseit’sreal.ButthedumbshitthoughthewasbuyingmearealHemingway

cat.Youknowaboutthem?”HelenandBrittneybothshooktheirheadsno.“ErnestHemingwayhadabunchofsix-toedcatsathishouseinKeyWest.Thehouse

is amuseumnow, and theirdescendants are still at theHemingwayHome.Those catslivelikekings.They’reatouristattraction.

“Joe paid fifty bucks to a guy in a Key West bar who supposedly sold him a realHemingwaycat.ButtheHemingwaycatsaren’tforsale.TheHemingwayHomedoesn’tadopt out the kittens, either. I knew that.Everyone knew that except Joe,whowas sostupidheboughtacatinabar.Itoldhimhewasanidiot.Iwassopissed,Igrabbedthecatandleft.NowI’mstuckwiththiscounterfeitsix-toedcat.”

“ItcouldstillbearealHemingwaycat,”Brittneysaid.“Maybe it’sonewhoclimbedoverthefencetomeetherboyfriend.”

“Thenshegotscrewedandabandoned,too,”Christinasaid.Tearsglitteredinhereyes.“There,there,baby,don’tcry,”Brittneycooed.“You’llgetwrinkles.Nomanisworth

that.Iknowyoulikecats.You’veprobablyfalleninlovewiththisonealready.Ibetyouevenhavesomepicturestoshowus.”

“Well,afewPolaroids,”Christinasaid,sniffling.Shepulledtwooutofherpurse.At firstHelenthoughtChristinawasshowinghera

pictureofaplushtoy.Thecathadacuddlybodythatmadeherwanttopickhimupandhughim.Hisgolden-greeneyeswerewise.Hisgray striped tailwasmajestic.Thecat’sdignified manner contrasted with his comical fur coat. His gray tabby stripes wereinterruptedbybigwhitepatches,likeblankspaces.

ThenHelensawthepaws.ThatcathadthebiggestfrontfeetHelenhadeverseenonanycatanywhere.Onthefrontpaws,thesixthtoestuckoutlikethethumbonamitten.

“Thosearethefamoussixtoes,”Christinasaid.“I’mcallinghimThumbs.”“BigFootwouldbemorelikeit,”Helensaid,thenregrettedit.“He’sadorable,”Brittneysquealed.“Ilovehim.IwishIhadhim.”“Youdo?”Christinasaid,surprised.“I’llgiveyouahundredbucksforThumbs,”Brittneysaid.“He’snotforsale,”Christinasaid.“Twohundred,”Brittneysaid,brisklyuppingthebidding.“Nope,”Christinasaid.

35

“I’llgiveyoufivehundred,”Brittneysaid.“Cash.”“I’llgetyourfivehundredsomeotherway,”Christinasaid,rathernastily.“I’mkeeping

thiscat.”HelenwonderedifBrittneyhadstagedthecatauctiontomakeChristinafeelbetter.Or

didthisabsolutelyperfectfemalefallinloveatfirstsightwiththeoddlyimperfectfeline?Forwhateverreason,ChristinanowwantedThumbs.“He’stheonlymanI’msleeping

withnow,”shejoked,“andhe’salwaysfaithful.”ThatrelationshipwouldoutlastChristina’sromancewithJoe.Christinacouldn’tstop

seethingoverherdisappointingevening.Themoreshe talked itoverwithBrittney, themoredeterminedshewastoendit.

“I’mdumpingthatman,”shetoldBrittney.“Ican’twaitanylonger.It’stimeIfoundsomeonewhowantstomarryme.I’mtellinghimtonight.”

MaybeChristina secretly hoped Joe would apologize and promise tomarry her.Ormaybeshewantedtodumphimfirst,beforehedumpedher.ButChristinadidn’tevengetthatpleasure.Joebrokeofftheirrelationship—bycellphone—beforenoon.Hetoldhergood-bye.Christinatoldhimtotakeaflyingleap.Itwasasadandsorryendtoherhopesofyesterday.

NowallChristinawantedwasrevenge.“IstillhaveJoe’sNeimanMarcuschargecard,”Christinasaid.“I’mgoingtocalland

chargeadiamondtennisbracelet.I’llgetitonewayortheother.”“‘Diamondsareagirl’sbestfriend,’”Brittneywhispered.Helenthoughtshesounded

alotlikeLoreleiLee,thecharacterwhofirstsaidthosewords.Christinadidn’tscorethetennisbracelet.ThecraftyJoehadcanceledthatcard.“I’ve got one Joe doesn’t know I have,”Christina said. “It’s an oldMasterCard.He

thinksitwasmaxedout.ButIknowitstillhastwothousanddollarsleft.Iwassavingitforarainyday.Well,it’spouringnow.”

“Yougo,girl,”Brittneysaid.Asatest,Christinatriedforafive-hundred-dollarcashadvanceattheATMacrossthe

street.Shecamebackwavingthemoneytriumphantly.“Thespreeison.Ihavefifteenhundredleft,”shesaid.“Nowwehavetodecidehowto

spenditfast.”“Thatwon’t get you adecent tennis bracelet.Or even any serious clothes,”Brittney

saidsadly.“I’mspendingthisonsomethingmorelastingthanclothes,”Christinasaid.Good,thoughtHelen.Finally,asensibledecision.“Youcouldgetacomputerforthat,”

shesaid.“Wasteoftime,”Christinasaid.“Staringatthescreengivesyouheinouswrinkles,”Brittneysaid.“I know! I’ll spend Joe’s money on my biopolymer treatments. I’ll have Doctor

Mariposafillinallmywrinkles.Joecanbuymeanewman.”“Brilliant!”Brittneysaid.Dumb,Helenthought.ShelisteneddistractedlyasChristinacalledthedoctorandmadeanappointment.Brittneyapplauded.Helenwasappalled.She’dlearnedalittlemoreaboutbiopolymer

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injectionssinceshe’dfirstmetBrittney.They’dbeenfeaturedinaTVexposé.“Youdon’twanttodothat,”Helensaid.“Thatstuffisillegal.Thedoctorisinjectingliquidsiliconerightintoyourface.Ifyourbodyrejectsit,you’llhavetheselumpsonyourface.Haven’tyouseenthestoriesaboutitonTV?Itleftthosewomenhorriblydisfigured.”

“Itworkedforme,”Brittneysaidwithaseductivehiss,likethesnakeintheGardenofEden.Her flawless face was Christina’s temptation. She wanted to look as young andbeautifulasBrittney.

“Youarelucky,Brittney,”Helensaid.“SoamI,”Christinasaid,defiantly.ButHelenknewshewasnot.

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Chapter6

The rest of the afternoon,Christina andBrittneyplotted revenge against Joe.The twowomenhuddledontheblackloveseatslikesorceressescastingspells,furiousandbeautifulandfrightening.IfJoe,oranyotherman,hadwalkedintothestore,theywouldhavetornhimapartwiththeirteethandnails.

Atleasttheycan’tturnJoeintoatoad,Helenthought.Healreadyisone.Helen didn’t want to listen to their plots. But their soft, insinuating whispers were

somehowlouderthanordinaryconversation.Helencaughtabouteverythirdsentence,nomatterhowmuchshetriedtoblockitout.

Sheheardthemsay,“TurnhimintotheIRS...reward...HowaboutImmigration?No,notthem.Badidea... .SomeguysinMiamiwouldliketoknowwhathe’supto,though,andtheyaren’tasniceastheIRS....Brittney,whataboutyouroldboyfriend,Vinnie?...WhenIfinish,Joewillwishhewasneverborn.”

Helenwishedacustomerwouldcomein,butnoonedid.Shewishedthephonewouldring.Thatwishwasgranted.Evenbetter,thecallerwasSarah,thewomanChristinahaddeclaredtoofattoenterJuliana’s.

“I’msorryIdidn’tgetbackwithyousooner,”Sarahsaid.“IwasonvacationatAtlantisintheBahamas.”

“Verychic.Also,veryexpensive.Didyourboyfriendtakeyou?”“Whatboyfriend?”Sarahsaid.“Itookmyself.ImetaguywhileIwasthere,though.”“Anythingserious?”“No,thankGod.”Juliana’s world of desperate, dependent women fell away. Helen was talking with a

workingwomannow.Thiswasherworld,andsheknewtherules.“If you can afford Atlantis, you must be doing well,” Helen said. “Where are you

working?”“Itwouldtaketoolongtoexplain.Whydon’tyoucometomyplaceonthebeachfor

dinnertonight?”“I’d love to, butmy car’s in the shop,”Helen lied. Shewas tooproud to admit she

didn’thavethemoneytofixit.“ThenI’llpickyouupafterwork,”Sarahsaid.“I’mdoingresearchat thedowntown

librarythisafternoon.IcanswingbyJuliana’sonmywayhome.I’llfixdinner.Nothingfancy.DoyoulikeFloridalobsters?”

“Love them,” Helen said. “I think they’re tastier than Maine lobsters. What can Ibring?”

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“Justyourself.”HelenwalkedoverbytheFederalHighwayandspentherlunchmoneybuyingflowers

fromtheyoungCubanwomanwhosoldrosesandsunflowersonthestreetcorner.She’dfilluponricecakes.

Atsixthatnight,SarahpulledinfrontofJuliana’sinhernewgreenRangeRoverandhonked.Helenranoutwithherflowers.SheinvitedSarahinside,butwasrelievedwhenherfriendsaidno.Helendidn’twanttoarguewiththewitchyChristinaaboutthefatandunfashionable.

Sarah lived in Hollywood, a beach town between Fort Lauderdale and Miami.HollywoodBeachwaslostintheFifties.Thebeachwaslinedwithpasteltwo-storymotelsandtinyDecobeachhouses.SarahlivednexttotheBel-AireBeachMotelinafive-storycondorightontheocean.

The condo was pretty, but the ocean view was stunning. The turquoise-blue oceanmeltedintothedeeperblueskystreakedceriseandgoldbythesunset.Thesunsetturnedthesandagoldenpink.

Thebeachwasnearlyempty.ButbelowSarah’sdeckwasawidestripofasphaltwithacontinual parade of people. “They aremy entertainment,” Sarah said. “It’s better thanTV.”

WhileSarahandHelenatechilledlobstersandsaladonthedeck,theysawamanridebyona fat-tiredbicycle,abigbluemacawsittingsolemnlyonhishandlebars.Hewasfollowedbyawomaninamotorizedwheelchair,sailingmajesticallydowntheboardwalk.Herblack-and-whiteBostonterrierstoodinthefrontofthevehiclelikeafigureheadonaship. A Cuban family giggled and ate drippy ice-cream cones. Roller bladers in blackspandexskatedaroundchildrenonscooters.

“This is charming,” Helen said. “And there’s not a liposuction or a facelift in thebunch.”

“Notaroundhere,”Sarahsaid,pattinghergeneroustummy.Acharmbraceletjingledcheerfullyonhershapelywrist.“Wanttogoforawalkafterdinner?”

They joined the throng, passingdozens of little restaurants:Angelo’sCorner,OceanAlley,andIstanbul,aTurkishrestaurant.

AtaT-shirtshop,theyreadtheshirtslogans.“Wedivorcedforreligiousreasons.MyhusbandthoughthewasGod,”onesaid.

“Thatdescribesmyex,”Sarahsaid.“Mine thoughthewas thedevil inbed,”Helen said. “I camehome fromworkearly

oneafternoonandcaughthimwithournext-doorneighbor.Rightintheact.”“Thatmusthavebeenawful.”“Itwas.IneverrealizedRobhadsuchahairybutt,”Helensaid.“Ihopeyouscrewedhimbackinthedivorce,”Sarahsaid.“I just wanted to get away from him,” Helen said, truthfully. “Listen, I need to

apologizeaboutwhathappenedatJuliana’slastweek.Therewasnoexcuse.Itwasrude.”“Itwasn’tyourfault.Iknowthestoredoesn’twantalargewomanlikemeinthere,”

Sarahsaid.“I’mbadforJuliana’simage.”Helenlookedathercurly-hairedfriendinhercoolwhitelinenjacketandfeltworse.

“That’sstupid.I’msorry.”

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“Don’tbe,”Sarahsaid.“It’snotimportanttome.Iheardyouwereworkingthere,andIwantedtostopbyandsayhello.”

“Sowhatdoyoudothesedays?”Helenasked.They’dtalkedtoomuchabouther.“Aslittleaspossible,”Sarahsaid,andgrinned.“No,seriously.”“I live on the beach. Imade somemoney in investments, and I don’t have towork

fulltime. I take a few consulting jobs when I feel like it. But I’ll never have to wearpantyhoseagain.Andyouknowwhat?Idon’tmisstheofficeonebit.IoriginallymovedtoFloridatotakecareofmymother.Shehadcancer.Inursedherfortwoyears.ShediedinFebruaryof2000.”

“I’msorry,”Helensaid.“Iam,too.ImissMom.Whenshepassedaway,sheleftmesomeproperty,including

thiscondo.Iwantedtolivehere,buthertenant’sleasewasn’tupuntillastmonth.”“Sothat’swhyyoulefttheCoronado,”Helensaid.“Yeah,I likeditthere,butIwantedmyownplace.IsoldMom’sotherpropertyand

sankthemoneyintoKrispyKremestock.”“Doughnuts?”“Ilovethosesuckers.Youcantellthatbylookingatme,”Sarahsaid.“WhenIbought

it,allthefinancialadvisorssaidthatKrispyKremewasexpectedtobeapoorperformer,butIthoughtanythingthatgoodwassuretosucceed.IputallmyinheritanceintoKrispyKremestock.BoughtitattheIPOpriceoftwenty-onedollars.”

“DidyoujustsayIPO?”Helensaid.“ThewomenIhangaroundwithnowthinkthat’saFrenchdesigner.”

“Nope,itwasatastydeal,”Sarahsaid.“Stockshotuplikearocket.Isolditwhenithitsixtydollars a share.Thatwas agood time togetout. It started tumbling soonafter. Ikepta few shares for sentimental reasons.Then I tookmostof thatmoneyand sank itintoadultdiaperstock.”

“Fromdoughnutstodiapers?Why?”Helensaid.“That’saweirdchoice.”“Notatall.Whenmymotherwassick,Icouldn’tgetthisonebrand,becauseitwasso

popular. Ihad friendsonthe lookout for itallover thecountry.Theywouldship it tome. I figured anything so in demand was only going to go up. Besides, none of usboomersaregettinganyyounger.Adultdiapersareagrowthindustry.SoIboughtdiaperstockandmademoremoney.ThenIsolditagain.

“IonlyboughtcompaniesIliked—andsoldwhatIdidn’t.Itwassuchasatisfyingwaytodobusiness.Whenmyoldink-jetprinterdied,Iboughtthishighlyrecommendedlaserprinter.Itwasaturkey.Iwasonthephoneallday,arguingwithcustomerservice.Isoldthat stock the next day. Good thing, too. The company announced major lay-offs amonthlater,andthatstockwentdownthetube.”

“TheyallwentdownthetubeafterSeptembereleventh,”Helensaid,withasigh.“Iwasmostlyoutof themarketby thenand intonice, safeT-bonds,”Sarahsaid.“I

hopeyouweren’tcaughtinthecrash.”“Ihadairlinestock,”Helensaid.“AndEnron.”“Oh,”Sarahsaid.Therewasnothingelsetosay.Helendidn’tmentionthatthestock

market crashmade it hard forher topayher lawyer.That’swheremost ofhermoney

40

went—tothemanwhoabandonedherincourt.The twowomenwatched a father and his son fly a dragon kite on the sand. Some

collegekidswereplayingUltimateLoopFrisbee.“SoyouowethisfabulouslifeonthebeachtoKrispyKremedoughnuts?”“That’sright,”Sarahsaid.Theylookedattheseaandsunset.Theeveningcloudswere

whipped-creammoundstingedwithlavender.Theairsmelledofsaltandcoconutsuntanoil.

“All this talkofKrispyKreme ismakingmehungry,”Sarah said. “Want to goon adoughnutexpedition?”

“Sure!Let’smakeyouricher,”Helensaid.Imagine, someonewhodidn’t agonize about eating adoughnut,Helen thought.She

hadtogetoutofthatstoreandspendmoretimewithnormalpeople.Shewasn’tsuretheCoronadocrowdcounted.

The closestKrispyKremewas twentyminutes away.As Sarah’sRangeRover pulledintothelot,theneonsignwasflashing.

“Freshdoughnuts!”Sarahsaid.Theyracedforthestore, laughingall theway.Inside,Helen breathed in the sugary, grease-perfumed air. They ordered a dozen glazed andripped open the box in the parking lot. When Helen bit into the first warm glazeddoughnut,shesaid,“I’vediedandgonetoheaven.”

“Sowhat’s it likeworkingwithCharlie’sAngels?”Sarah said, throughamouthfulofdoughnut.“Howcanasmartwomanlikeyoustandthosebimbos?”

“They’re not bimbos,”Helen said,wonderingwhy shewas defending them. “That’sthe sadpart.They’re smart. Iwouldhavehired any of them atmyold company.Theproblemistheydon’tvaluetheirintelligence,andneitherdotheirboyfriends.Beautyandmoneyaretheonlystandardsthatcount.Intheirworld,AlbertEinsteinwouldbepitiedasaguywithapermanentbadhairday.”

Both women reached for another doughnut. “OK, they’re not stupid,” Sarah saidbetweenbites.“They’re shallow,which isworse.You’re toosmart for them,Helen.Letmemake somephonecalls. Iknowseveral companies thatwould love tohire someonelikeyou.”

“No!”Helensaid,hopingshedidn’tsoundaspanickyasshefelt.Shecouldn’tworkforacorporation.Thecourtwouldfindherforsure.ShecouldnevertellSarahwhy.Instead,shegaveheranotherhalf-truth.

“I’mburntout,”shesaid.“Ihitmyheadhardontheglassceilingatmyoldjob.Iwassickofthepointlessmeetingsandmemos.I’dratherworkatJuliana’s.Exceptsomethingoddisgoingonthere.”

Sarah was a good listener, or maybe Helen was high on sugar and grease after ricecakes,theonlysnacksChristinaallowedinthestore.Bythefourthdoughnut,HelenwastalkingaboutChristina’ssuspectedskimmingandthepursefullofpills.

At the half-dozenmark, Sarah looked serious. “Helen, something is way off in thatstore.You’vegottogetoutofthere.Yousawthatwomanskimthirteenhundreddollarsinoneday.”

“ButI’mnotsureIsawanything.That’stheproblem,”Helensaid,wavingahalf-eatenglazed.“Ihavenoproof.MaybeChristinasawLaurenshopliftthatblouseandbeltandI

41

didn’t.Maybethere’ssomeFedExrateIdon’tknowabout.”“Andmaybeshe’ssellingcandyinthosepurses,”Sarahsaid.“Bull.You’reanumbers

hound.Ifyoucouldfigureoutactuarialtables,youcanspotascam.Youmaynotknowabout implants and eye jobs, but you knowChristina is crooked. She’s skimming anddealingdrugs.You’dbettergetyourselfanewjob.”

“Why?What’s theuse?”Helensaid,hopelessly.“Theonly jobIcould findthatpaidanythingwasalingeriemodelinageezerbar.Thegoodjobsarerare.Theyhavesomanypeopleafterthem,Idon’thaveachance.

“IguessIneedtotryharder,butIcan’tseemtogetuptheenergytolookforanotherjobonmydayoff. I’mtiredall thetime.Ihavetostandallday.Myfeethurtandmybackhurts.WhenIgethome,Ijustwanttogotobed.”Shedownedanotherdoughnutforcomfort.

“IsaidI’dhelpyoufindabetterone,”Sarahsaid,chompingyetanotherKrispyKreme.Helenbackpedaled furiously,while reaching foronemoreglazeddoughnut.Thedozenseemedtobedisappearingfast,butHelencouldnotrememberhowmanyshe’deaten.

“I’mjustwhining,”shesaid.“Ireallydon’twanttogobacktoanoffice.Juliana’spaystherent.Theworkisn’tthatbad.AtleastIdon’thavetosay,‘Youwantfrieswiththat?’”Itwashardtosaywithamouthfullofdoughnut.

Sarah did not laugh. Instead, she dropped her doughnut and fixed Helen with herserious deep brown stare. “Listen to me, Helen. Christina is ripping off some rich,powerfulpeople.Theywon’ttakeitkindlyiftheyfindoutwhatshe’sdoing.She’smixingsex,money,andmaleegos.Markmywords:Murder’snext.”

“That’sridiculous,”Helensaid.“Iappreciateyourconcern,butyou’vehadtoomuchsun.”Shereachedforanotherglazeddoughnut.Theywereallgone.

SarahwouldnothearofHelentakingacabhome.ShedroveHelentotheCoronado.AsHelensettledintohercreakybed,shedecidedshelikedSarahalot.Butthewoman

hadamelodramatic streak.Murderat Juliana’s, indeed.Christinawouldwear flip-flopsfirst.

Thenextday,HelenheardChristinaplottingamurder.Foralotofmoney.

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Chapter7

Nikiwasthefirstpersonatthegreendoorthatmorning,herlongbrownhairwavinginthe breeze like a dark banner. She was beautiful, but Juliana’s was used to beautifulwomen.Niki’sbeautywas inherperfection.Her eyes andher lips andher cheekboneslookedsculptedandcoveredwithskinasunblemishedasacrylic.Shewastheperfecthighschoolcheerleader,allgrownup.

AmanwalkingbyinuglyplaidshortsstaredatthebeautifulNikisohardhetrippedandfellagainstaparkedPorsche.Theoutragedownergavethebedazzledmanthefinger.

Nikilookedluminousinthesunlight,theperfectadvertisementforJuliana’s.Evenatadistance, Helen recognized Niki’s white silk Joop halter top, tight white Dolce &Gabbanapants,andgold-trimmedD&Gmules.

ChristinabuzzedNikiintotheshop.Shewaftedinonacloudofperfumesostrong,itmadeHelen’seyeswater.

“Inthatoutfityoulookpositivelybridal,”Christinasaid.“How’sJimmy?Areyouheretobuymorethingsforyourwedding?”

“Whatwedding?”Nikisaid,andburstintotears.“There,there,sweetie, itwillbeOK,”Christinasaid,andputherarmsaroundNiki.

Theywerebothsothin,theylookedlikeapileofbroomsticks.“Itwon’tbeOK,”Nikisaid.“Thewedding’soff.AllbecauseofthatbitchDesiree.”“Theskinnyblondechickwiththefatlips?”Christinasaid,handingheratissue.“She’s

hadsomuchcollagen,shelookslikeDaisyDuck.”Niki only sobbed harder and blew her perfect little nose. “That’s what makes it so

awful,Christina.I’vedoneeverythingright,andthenshecomesalongwiththosestupidlipsandoutsizetits,andhefallsforher.Itisn’tfair!”

Niki’s own chest implants were impressive. Desiree’s mammaries must bemountainous,Helenthought.

Nikitriedtostopcrying,butshecouldn’t.Sheseemedtobeinrealpainasshetoldherstory.Theperfumecloudcoveredherlikeapall.

“I just foundoutaboutthemlastnight.Jimmytoldmehehadtoworklate.Icouldhavegonetodinnerwithmygirl-friends,butIstayedhome,gavemyselfanherbalmask,andwenttobedearly.Oneofourfriendscalledthismorning.ShesaidshesawJimmyandDesireedancingtogetheratourclub.Shesaideveryonesawthem.”

Somefriend,Helenthought.“IcalledJimmyatwork,”Nikisaid.“Hedidn’tevenbothertolie.Hesayshe’sgoing

tomarry the bitch.Wewere supposed to go to a party at theBeeGees’ place onStar

43

Island.”“WhichBeeGee?”Helensaid,starstruck.“Robin, I think.NotBarry.AndMaurice isdead. Itwasgoing tobe fabulous.Now

he’stakingher.”“Oh,sweetie,that’ssoterrible,”Christinasaid.Nikicriedharder.Christinahandedher

anothertissue.Hergriefseemedtointensifytheperfumeuntilitwasalmostliquid.“Jimmy says I can keep the condo in the Towers and the ring, but he wants his

freedom.”Heboughthisfreedomatahighprice,Helenthought.CondosintheTowersstarted

atonemillion,andthatringhadarockthesizeofDelaware.LittlejiltedNikiwouldbewellfixed.

“Hedoesn’tmeanit,”Christinasoothed.“You’vebeenengagedforfouryears.Thisisjustapassingfling.Nervousbridegroomsdodumbthings.JimmywillgettiredofDesireeandcomebacktoyou.”

“He won’t,”Niki sobbed, andHelen had never heard such despair. “She’s youngerthanme.She’sblond.”

“She’sbleached,”Christinasaid.“Anyonecanbeblondthesedays.”HelenthoughtthisjabatDesireewasunfair,sinceChristinaowedherownblondness

tothebottle.“She’s never done anything. I’ve been in Playboy,” Niki said proudly, and sat up

straight, so that her imposing implants stuck out farther. The movement unleashedanotherchokingcloudofperfume.

“That’showyouandJimmyfirstmet,wasn’tit?”Christinasaid.“Yes,” Niki said. “He saw my picture in Playboy. He remembered it for six whole

months.HerecognizedmeataSouthBeachclubandintroducedhimself.”HelenhopeditwasherfaceJimmyrecognized.“It was love at first sight. Jimmywas so proud ofme.When we started dating, he

boughtahundredcopiesofmyPlayboyissueandgavethemtoallhisfriendsandbusinessassociates.”

Toshowthemwhathewasgetting,Helenthought.“That’showhiswifefoundoutaboutus.Shesawthebillforallthosebackissueson

hiscreditcard.Shewassomad.Shesaidshe’dtakehimtothecleaners.PoorJimmyhadtohidethingsoffshoreandeverything.Thedivorcetookfouryears.Iwentthroughhell.Nowhe’smarryingthatbitchonthebeachinBelizenextmonth.”

“Ihopethesharksgether,”Christinasaid.“Iwantherdeadbeforethat,”Nikisaid,hereyessuddenlyhardmeanslits.“Don’t youwant him dead?” Christina said. Good question, thoughtHelen. That’s

whoI’dwanttokillifJimmydumpedmerightbeforethewedding.“No,Iwantherdead,”Nikisaid.Herwordswereaviciousslash.“Maybewhenshe’s

dead,he’llcomebacktome.”Nikiwrappedherpipestemarmsaroundherself and rockedbackand forth, spotting

theblacksilk-satinloveseatwithhertearsandsendingwavesofperfumerollingthroughthestore.Itwastimeforseriousgriefcounseling.

“Helen, would you unpack that Blumarine jeans stock forme?”Christina said. “I’ll

44

takeNikiback and showher someprettynew things tomakeher feel all better. She’llhaveherselfanewmaninnotime.”

“Idon’twantanewman.IwantJimmy,”Nikiwailed,likeaspoiledchild.Christinaherdedhergentlytowardthedressingroom,agood-heartedbutfirmnanny.

“Comeon, sweetie. Ihavesome lovelywhitewine.Wouldyou likeaglassofwine?OrmaybesomeEvian?”

Thatwaskind,thoughtHelen.Smart,too.Nikiwouldbuyupastorminhershatteredstate.Christinawashaulinghalfthestoreintothatdressingroom.

BeforeHelen couldunpack the jeans, thedoorbell rang.Helen recognized a regular,Melissa,andbuzzedherin.Melissawastheblondewiththeeighteenth-centuryfaceandthe twenty-first-centuryboob job.Good thing she’dpersuadedherboyfriend to letherkeepthatArmanigown.Nowhewantedhertoget“somethingcute”forabarbecue.

Melissatriedonalongstraplesstubeofruchedmaterialinlavender.Itlookedsmashingwith her blonde hair. If you were more than a size four, you’d look fat as a Frenchbonbon.ThisfourhungonMelissa.

“Youneedasizetwo,”Helensaid.“Iknowwehaveonesomewhere.Letmefinditforyou.”

The top wasn’t in the shop or the stockroom. It must be in Niki’s dressing room,thoughtHelen,alongwithmostoftheotherclothesinthestore.

HelenwasabouttoknockonNiki’sdoorwhensheheardChristinasayinalowvoice,“I’llneedfifteenhundreddownandfifteenhundredwhenthejobisdone.”

That’swhatahitmancost,Helenthought.EveryoneinSouthFloridaknewthepriceofahitman.Itwasalwaysonthenewsforsomemurdertrialorother.Buttheycan’tbetalking about a hitman in a LasOlas dress shop.Nikimust want some sort of bodysculpting.Juliana’swomenoftenresortedtosurgeryaftertheybrokeupwithaman.

“Iwantherdeadandhimbackinmyarms!”Nikiwailed.“Shhh! The others will hear you. If you’re serious, I’ll need the money in cash

tomorrow.”Cash?Hitmendidn’ttakechecks.ButsomeofthedoctorsChristinarecommendedfor

herregularstookcashonly.LikeDoctorMariposa,theillegalBrazilianfacefixer.Niki loweredher voice somuch,Helenonly caught thewords “next Saturday.” She

couldn’t figureout the restof theirconversation.Niki’svoicewas too soft, toocloggedwith tearsandanger.Christina’swas toocautious.But the twowomenseemed tohavereachedsomesortofagreement.Nikiraisedhervoiceanotch.“Iwantherdead.AndIwanttheChloejumpsuitandcamisole.”

Hadthewomanjustorderedacamisoleandakillinginthesamebreath?Helenwasn’tsurewhatshe’dheard,butshecouldn’tknockonNiki’sdressingroomdoornow.Helenwas so rattled, she grabbed the first thing she saw off a nearby rack andwent back toMelissa.

“Uh,sorry,wedon’thavethatsizetwoafterall,”shesaid.“ButIthoughtyoumightlikethisinsteadforthebarbecue.”

Melissa looked at her strangely. Her slightly popped eyes bulged a bit more. Nowonder.HelenwasholdingagreenVersaceeveninggown.

“Er,I’msorry,”Helensaid.“Idon’tknowwhat’swrongwithme.”

45

“Weallhavethosedays,”Melissasaid.“Anyway,whileyouweregone,Itriedonthistop.Ireallylikeitinstead.”

HelenfinallynoticedwhatMelissawaswearing:askin-tightblacktopslitupthesideandlacedwithslimsatinribbons.

“Verysexy,”Helensaid,anditwas.“It’sonlytwohundredandfifteendollars,”Melissasaid.“Rickgavemefivehundred,

soIcankeepthechange.”Change,Helen thought.Melissa’s change ismore than Imake in a week. And I’m

workingataplacethatcouldbearrangingcontractkillings.SherangupMelissa’spurchaseinadaze,allthewhiletryingtounderstandwhatshe

hadheard.HelenknewChristinafiddledwiththebooksabit,butshewasn’tamurderer,she told herself. Of course, Christina did arrange things. Face lifts. Designer drugs.Collageninjections.Contractkillings.

Shouldshegotothepolice?Butwhatwouldshetellthem?AllHelenknewwasthatthe supposed victimwas namedDesiree. She didn’t know her last name or where shelived.DidDesiree live in Fort Lauderdale? Boca?Miami? South Florida covered threecountiesandhadmillionsofpeople.

Helenneededmoreinformation.ShewaiteduntilNikileft,lookinghopeful.Evenherperfume seemed lighter.ThenHelenwalkedback toNiki’s clothing-crammeddressingroomandbegandelicatelydigging.

“WasNikireallyaPlayboycenterfold?”sheasked.ShecouldstillsmellNiki’spowerfulperfume.

Christinawasputtinga skinnybelt through the loopsofapairof flaredpants. “No,just an inside feature. And that was five years ago. Old news now. You ask me, sheshowedtoomuchandgottoolittle.Nikicouldn’tturntheexposureintoamodelingormoviecontract.AllsheeverdidwassnagJimmy.”

“Andnowshe’slosthim,”Helensaid.“PoorNiki.Shewasawreck.Whateveryoudidforher,sheleftheresmiling.”

Helenwaited forChristina to sayNikiwas getting somehigh-pricedplastic surgery.Instead,shestartedbuttoningasheerpinkblousewithdozensofslipperypearlbuttons.“IguessIsaidtherightthing,”shesaid.“MaybeIshouldbeashrink.”

Christinadidnotmentionthethreethousanddollars.Helenknewshe’dheardhersay,“I’llneedfifteenhundreddownandfifteenhundredwhenthejobisdone.”

“What’sJimmydoforaliving?”“HehassomeT-shirtshops,”Christinasaid.“ButIthinkthey’reafrontforsomething

else,maybemoneylaundering.He’sknownasJimmytheShirt.”“Soundslikeamobname,”Helensaid.“Desireeistheperfectfirstnameforafemme

fatale.Ihopeherlastnameisn’tsomethingdisappointing,likePotts.Andpleasedon’ttellmeshelivesinanapartmentcomplexinDavie.”

“I don’t knowwhere she lives,”Christina said, coldly. “But I know you better quitstandingaroundyakking.There’sstocktoputaway.Here.Hangtheseup.”ShethrustanarmloadofblousesatHelen.

Christinahadeffectivelycutoffanymorequestions.Wasshebeingaboss?OrwasshetryingtoshutHelenup?

46

No, it couldn’t be true. Niki didn’t come here to buy a murder. This wasn’thappening.Helencouldn’tsayanythingtoanyone,notevenherfriendSarah.Sheknewwhat Sarah would tell her: Get out of that place now. Find another job. It was goodadvice.Shewouldlookforworkonhernextdayoff.

Besides,Niki could still changehermindandcalloff themurder, if there reallywasone. IfNiki came in tomorrowwith themoney, thenHelenwould call the police, nomatterhowcrazyshesounded.

Somehow,Helengotthroughthenextday.Shewatchedthegreendoorconstantlyandjumpedeverytimethedoorbellchimed.ButNikinevershowedupwithacutelittlebagfullofmoney.Shenevershowedup,period.Helenbegantorelax.She’dmisheard.She’dmisunderstood.Thiswaswhatshegotforlisteningatdoors.Everythingwasgoingtobefine.Itwouldbebetterthanfine.

47

Chapter8

“Do you even know what a Sapphire martini is?” the young man demanded in asuperciliousvoice.Hisprettypinkchoirboyfacewasdisfiguredbyanastysneer.

IfthisrudeyoungmanhadappliedtoHelenforajob,she’dhaveshownhimthedoor.Instead,shewasaskinghimforwork,andsheknewshedidn’thaveachance.

“Uh,it’sblue?”shesaiduncertainly.“It’s only like theunofficial gaydrink,” the choirboy said, pityingher ignorance. “If

youwanttotendbaronLasOlas,you’dbetterknowwhatgaysdrink.Andstraights,too.Doyouputcoffeeinamudslide?Canyoumakeamargarita?Arumrunner?”

ThechoirboykepthittingHelenwithquestionsheknewshecouldn’tanswer.Then,whenshewasthoroughlybeaten,hereturnedthejobapplicationshe’dpainstakinglyfilledout.“Comebackwhenyouknowoneendofthebarfromtheother,”hesaid.Histoneimpliedthatwouldbethethirty-firstofnever.

Helen’sconfidencewasgoingdownhillasfastasarealmudslide.Sheusedtoevaluateintricatepension-paymentplans.Now shedidnot knowwhat kindof ginwent into amartini.

Helenwasdeterminedtofindanotherjob.Shewouldnotworkforathiefandadrugpusher. So on her day off, Helen put on her black suit and went looking for work.Instead,shefoundaseriesofhumiliations.

Helen didn’t want to dip into her precious stash to fix her car, and thatmade hersearchharder.Shehadtofindsomethingwithinwalkingdistanceofherapartment.Thismorning,she’dalreadywalkedthreelongmilesinthehotsun.Herfeetburnedfromthesunbaked concrete sidewalks. She had a blister on her right heel.Her suit was sweaty,whichmeantanotherdry-cleaningbill.

Afterthechoirboysneeredheroutthedoor,Helenapproachedthenextplacewarily.ThisbarlookedlikesomeplacewhereMyrnaLoywoulddrink,rightdowntothechromecocktail shakers. Itwas dark and cool inside, andHelenwas grateful for that. At leastshe’dgettositdownwhileshewasbeinginsulted.

The barwas opening for the day, and the bartenderwas busy cutting up limes andlemonsforgarnish.Shewasacheerfulblondewithsunfriedskinandasmoker’srasp.ShegaveHelenaclubsodaonthehouseandsomefreeadvice.

“You’re wasting your time looking for a bartender’s job around here,” she said, hervoice like anemeryboardon the eardrums. “Youhave toknow somebody toget thesejobs. You might want to go to bartender’s school. We hire some of the promisinggraduates.”

48

Helenthankedthewomanandwonderedhowmuchbartender’sschoolwouldcost.AnMBAwasnotmuchgoodtoamixologist.She’dbettergiveuponbartending.

But Helen could—and did—read, and in South Florida, that seemed a rare skill.Maybe she could sell books.Helen triedPageTurners, the snootyLasOlas bookstore,next. The storemanager didn’t look old enough to go into the bars that had rejectedHelen.Butheturnedherdown,too.

“We’re not hiring at present,” the underagemanager said, “butwewill be happy totakeyourapplication.”

Thekiss-offofdeath.HowoftenhadHelenheardthosewordsinhumanresources?Atleasthedidn’t say shewasoverqualified for the job,another inhumanhumanresourcesphrase.Theunderagemanageraddedanewtwistoftheknife.

“Weareexpectingopeningssoononthenightshift,”hesaid.“Wepaysixseventyanhour.Thenight-shiftbooksellersareexpectedtocleanthestoreandthetoilets.”

“Toilets?”Helensaid.She’dthoughtbooksellingwouldbegenteel,ifunderpaid.“Yes,butyoucanalsotakehometheleftovercafésandwiches,”hesaid.Helen wondered if she’d have any appetite for them after cleaning the toilets. The

managerwaswearingawhiteshirtandsilktie.Wouldshehavetodressupinaskirtandheelstocleantoilets,likeawomanina1950sTVcommercial?

Helenthankedhimandwalkednexttotheheadquartersofanelitemaidservice.Ifshehadtocleancommodesforaliving,shemightaswellgetajobwhereshewouldn’thavetodressup.

For sixdollars anhour,Helencouldclean toilets allday for themaid service.But itwouldhelpifsheknewSpanish,themanagersaid.Thenshecouldmakesixtwenty-fiveandbea teamleader.Helendidn’t speakenoughSpanish toordera taco inaMexicanrestaurant.

Terrific.Intwoyears,hercareeroptionshadslidfromdirectorofemployeebenefitstotoiletteamleader—andshewasn’tfullyqualifiedforthatjob.

By threeo’clock that afternoon,her jobhopeswere in thecommode.Helendecidedherbatteredpsychecouldstandonemoreinterview.She’drememberedenoughaboutjobsearchestosavethebestforlast.

The ad she saw in the paper was intriguing: “Job opportunity in the food serviceindustry,” it said. “Enjoy fresh air and sunshine in a casual beach-like atmosphere.Noexperiencenecessary.Generoustipsforwillingworkers.Transportationprovided.”

Noexperience.Transportation.Shewaswillingiftheywere.Helenhadcalled thatmorningandmadeanappointment for three-thirty.Butwhen

shesawtheoffice,herspiritsfellevenlower.TheofficewasonaseedystreetoffLasOlas.Manyofthebuildingsonthedismallittlestreetwereabandonedorboardedup,slatedtobetorndownforanewhigh-rise.

This office was clearly temporary. There was no company name on the door, nosecretaryinthewaitingroom.Theonlyfurniturewastwowhiteplasticlawnchairs.Themint-green walls were decorated with dirty handprints and Snap-On Tool posters ofbustywomen.Helendidnotthinktheycreatedaprofessionalworkplaceenvironment.

Theinnerofficedooropenedandahard-facedyoungwomanwithspikycranberry-redhaircameout.Shewasburstingwithhealth.Shewasalsoburstingoutofhershort-shorts

49

andwhitehaltertop.“Bye-eee,boss.Seeyoutomorrow,”MissCranberrysaid.“Showupdressed forwork,” aman’svoicecalledout. “Not thatoutfit.Theonewe

discussed,yes?”Thereseemedtobesomeprofessionalstandards,Helenthought,andherdyinghopes

flutteredalittle.Themanwhocame into thewaiting roomhad luxurianthair everywherebutonhis

head.Hehadlittlepatchesofhaironhis fingers, littlebushes inhisnostrilsandears,adarkpeltonhisarmsandathickcurlyblackmatonhischest.Goldchainsweretangledinhischesthair,andHelenwonderedifhe’dhavetocutthemout.Butbythetimethehairfinallymadeittohisscalp,itwasthinandstraggly.Itseemedexhausted.

Thehairymandidnotintroducehimself.HelumberedbackintohisofficelikeabearintoacaveandsatdownbehindacardtablepiledwithpapersandManilafolders.

“Comein,comein,”hesaid.“Gladyoucouldmakeit.Takeaseat,yes?Takealoadoffthose pretty feet.Nice heels. You canwear those towork, yes?”He had some kind ofaccent,butHelencouldn’tplaceit.Latin?Latvian?Russian?

“Whatkindofworkisit?”Helenasked,slidingintoanotherlawnchair.“Foodservice,liketheadsays,”thehairymansaid,handsdrummingonthepaperpile.“Whatkindoffood?”Helensaid.WhyamIinterviewinghim?shewondered.Washe

testingherpeopleskills?“Hotdogs,”hesaid.“All-American,thehotdog,yes?Youwillservethematlunchtime

under a big sun umbrella to hungrymen.Good tippers. Andwe pay seven dollars anhour.”

Thatwasthemostshe’dbeenofferedallday.“Plusbenefits?”Helensaid,hopefully.“Manybenefits,”he said, smiling.Hehadanotherpatchofhairunderhis lower lip.

“Freshair.Sunshine.You’llmeetmanyfinegentlemen.”“Don’twomeneatlunch,too?”shesaid.“Some,”hesaid,andshrugged.“Andit’sonthebeach?”“Onaroadside,butlikeabeach,”hesaid.“Wewilltakeyouandthefoodcarttherein

themorningandpickyouupintheafternoon.Nowtakeoffyourblouse,please,soIcanseeifyouarequalifiedforthejob.”

Helenwas sure she’dheardhimwrong. “Yourblouse,”he repeated,pointingahairyfingeratherchest.“Youwillunbuttonnow,please?”

Helenpickedupherpurseandstoodup.“I’matalosstoseewhatremovingmyblousehastodowithafoodservicejob.Iamterminatingthisinterview.”

“Donotbeangry,dearlady.Youseemtohaveaniceshape,butIneedtoseehowyouwouldlookinabikini.Thatwillbeyourjobuniform,yes?”

“No!”Helensaid.Searing anger fueled her long walk home. Food service. Fresh air. Beach-like

atmosphere. Horseradish! She was supposed to wear a bikini and sell hot dogs withmustardanddoubleentendres.She’dseenthosepatheticwomenongod-forsakenSouthFloridaroads,surroundedbyapackofslaveringmen.She’dbeleeredatbytruckersandtormentedbybugs.Howcould she let this happen? She’dbeen awomanwith a silverLexusandaclosetfullofpowersuits.Nowshewasbeingaskedtopeddlehotdogshalf

50

naked.Shehadwastedhertimeandherdayoffgettingnowherelookingfornowherejobs.She

wouldhavetogobacktoworkforacrook.HelenwouldnevergetfreeofJuliana’s.

51

Chapter9

HelenputonherSt.Johnknitlikeshewasstrappingonbodyarmor.Ithadcosthertwothousanddollarssixyearsago,anditwasstillherbest-lookingsuit.Nowsheworeitlikeashield.IfHelenlookedrichandsecure,nothingbadcouldhappentoher.

Shewasgoingtoworkatashopwithdeepcarpets,softmusic,andfreshflowers,butshefeltasjumpyasifshewerehitchhikingthroughSkidRowwithasuitcasestuffedwithcash.Theuncertaintywaswearingherdown.Intheshorttimeshe’dworkedatJuliana’s,she’dseenadrugdeal,moneyskimming,andwhatmighthavebeenamurder forhire,exceptnobodywasdead.

Helen dreaded another day alonewithChristina. She knew therewould be anothersurprise.But shedidn’t expect it fiveminutes after shewalked through the greendoorthatFriday.

“Meet your replacement,” Christina said. “I’m leaving for vacation after worktomorrow,andyouwillbeinchargeofthestore.Guesswho’sgoingtoworkwithyou?”

ItwasTara,thecuteAsiancustomerwiththecrudeboyfriend.Taralookedadorableinabluescoop-necktopwithwhitelaceinsetsdownthesleeves,andBrazilianlowrisejeanssolowcuttheylookedlikebikinibottomswithlegs.

“Ithoughtitwouldbefunforafewdays,”Tarasaid,flippingherlongblackhairbackfrom her face. “I know the clothes and the customers. Christina gave me a terrificdiscount.”

Helencouldn’tevenaffordthediscount,muchlesstheclothes.“Paulielovesthatdiscountpart,”Tarasaid.Shegiggledandflippedherlonghairtothe

othershoulder.“Hedoesn’tmindmeworkingforalittlewhile.It’slikeavacation.”Some vacation,Helen thought. She eyedTara’s high-heeled sandals.Wait tillTara’s

littlefeetstartedhurtinginthoseshoes.“I’mdoingitunderonecondition,Christina,”Tarasaid,flippingherhairintheother

direction.“Youhaveto findmeamaidasreliableas theoneyougot forBrittney.Youknowwheretogetthebest.BrittneyravesaboutMaria.”

Goodlord,thoughtHelen,anotherroleforChristina:domesticservicebureau.“Doyoumind aHaitian?”Christina said. “What about someonewhodoesn’t speak

English?”“Idon’tcarewhattheyspeakaslongastheyscrubmyfloors,”Tarasaid.“Brittneyhas

arealgem.ShepaysMariaalmostnothingbutroomandboard.Thewomanispracticallyaslave.”Taraseemedhappytobeaslaveholder.

“I’ll haveone for youwhen I getback fromvacation,”Christina said. “Butwehave

52

work to donow. I have twodays to train you,Tara, and showHelenher newduties.ThenI’mgoneuntilnextFriday.”

Helendidn’tknowanddidnotcarewhyChristinawastakingasuddenunscheduledvacation.Christinadidnotsaywhereshewasgoing,andHelendidn’task.Shewantedthatwomanoutofhersight.MaybethenHelencouldfigureoutwhattodoabouthercrooked,drug-dealingboss.Evenbetter,maybeshecouldlandanotherjob.

Therewere somanynewthings to learnthatHelendidnothave timeto think,andthatwasgood,too.Thedaypassedinablur.ChristinashowedHelenandTarahowtolockupandsetthealarm.Helenlearnedwhattodowiththeinvoicesandnewshipments.Tara learned to size and fold stock and ring up sales. She cheerfully absorbedher newdutiesandseemedtofindtheminteresting.Taraclearlylovedclothes,enjoyedtheircolorsandtextures,andhadagoodeyeforaccessories.

HelenandTarabothlearnedtocloseouttheregister.Theyevenhadthecombinationtothestore’ssafe.“There’sonlytwoofyou.I’lljusthavetotrustyou,”Christinasaid.“Ifyoustealanything,I’lltrackyoudownandkillyou.”Shelaughedwickedly.

ThesenewtaskswerehardertolearnbecauseChristinacouldnotkeephermindonherwork.Shekeptleavingoutstepswhensheexplainedacomplicatedprocedureonthecashregister.

“No,wait, youhit this button first,” she toldHelen.The cash registermade a rudegrindingsound,andthedrawerrefusedtoopenforthethirdtime.

“Damn. I’vemessed it up again,” Christina said. “I can’t concentrate. I seeDoctorMariposatonight.I’mgettingmywrinklesinjectedwithbiopolymer.It’sallIcanthinkabout.”

“Maybeifyouwrotethestepsdown,”Helensaid.That worked. Christina wrote out the instructions and taped them to the register.

“That’sallyouneed,”shesaid.Christina spent the rest of the afternoon examining her face in the triplemirror. “I

can’t wait,” she said. “By eight o’clock tonight, this line will be gone. And this one.”Christinapointedtothefurrowsbetweenhernoseandlips.Theyweregettingdeeper.

Helenstillthoughttheinjectionswereamistake,butshedidn’ttrytoargueChristinaoutofthem.Thewomanwasdetermined.

“WaittillJoeseesme,”shesaid.“I’llmakesureheseesmynewface.I’llbuymyselftheredVersacethat’scutdowntomynavelandgodancingatallourclubs.”

Christina was nearly cackling in anticipation. Her fury at Joe was frightening.Christina’s unrelenting anger distorted her face until she was almost ugly. Her noseseemedlongandwitchlike.Herlipswerelockedinasnarl.Hereyesweremeanslits.

“Tomorrow, you’ll see a newme. I’m going to look younger and better,”Christinasaid.“I’llfindmeanewboyfriend.Betterthanthatjerk,Joe.He’llbesorry.”

ButitwasChristinawhowassorry.Thenextmorning,ChristinacameintoworkwearingahugeHermesscarfthatputher

faceinshadow.WhenChristinapulledoffthescarf,Helensawwhatshewashiding.OnesideofChristina’sfacewasgrosslyswollen.Hercheekwasthesizeofagrapefruit

half and covered with knoblike lumps. The other side was smooth and wrinkle-free,turningChristinaintoherowngrotesquebefore-and-afterpicture.

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Despite the Brazilian doctor’s promises and Brittney’s testimonial, the biopolymerinjectionswerenotsafeandsimple.Christina’sfacewasahorrorshow.Helenhadbracedherselfwhenthescarfcameoff,buttheshockmusthaveshownonherface.Still,shesaidnothing. But Tara had been expecting a cosmetic miracle. She looked at Christina’sbloatedcheekandblurted,“What’sthathorriblethingonyourface?”

Taratriedtorecoverherblunderwith,“Imean,yourfacelooksatinybitswollen.”“DoctorMariposa said Ihadabad reaction to thebiopolymer.She says I shouldbe

patient.”Christina’svoicewasmumbly,distortedbytheswelling.“Whenwilltheswellinggodown?”Helenasked.“Thedoctordoesn’tknow.ShesaidImighthavetowaitforthebodytoreabsorbit.”“Howlongwillthattake?”Tarasaid.Shelookedgenuinelyconcerned.“Four or five years,” Christina said. Tears coursed down her face. The ones on the

swollensidesliddownfasterastheyhitthegrotesquehumpoffleshonhercheek.Helentriednottostare.

“Ilooklikeachipmunk,”Christinawailed.“Youdonot,”Helensaid.Itwastrue.Chipmunkslookedcuteandcuddly.Christinaspentthewholemorningbemoaningherswollenface.Wheneventhebiggest

spenderscameintothestore,Christinarefusedtocomeoutandwaitonthem.Shestayedinthebackroomandweptuntilhereyeswerered.Christinacalledallherfriends,exceptthebeautifulbiopolymeredBrittney,andcriedonthephone.Sheusedalltheiceinthestore’s mini-fridge, making cold packs for her bloated cheek. By the time she left forlunch,Christina’seyeswereglassy,andHelensuspectedshe’dbeeninherspecialpursesforpainkillers.

Helentried,butshecouldnotfeelsorryforChristina.Maybeyourdeedsshowedonyourface,shethought.Butthen,whatwillIlooklike?

Christinacamebackafterlunchinavintageblackhatwithawispofaveil.Thehat’sbrim swoopeddownon the right side and cleverlyhid theworst of thedamage toherface.

EvenHelenhadtoadmit thegoodsideofChristina’s face lookedtenyearsyounger.Nowtheskinwasfirmandplump.Thetrenchbetweenhernoseandmouthwasgone,andsowerethedeepfrownfurrowsbetweenhereyebrows.

Christinamusthavegonehometochange.Sheworethehatwithalongslinkyblacktop and skinny pants. The Ferragamo pantsuit had such style. Even the buttons werebeautiful. That afternoon, Juliana’s customers raved about Christina’s chic new look.Those who didn’t know any better praised the wonders of her wrinkle injections.Christinalookedalmosthappy.Sheseemedtoforgettheruinedrightsideofherface.IntheunrealworldofJuliana’s,halfayouthfulfacewasbetterthannone.

About three o’clock, there was a sudden lull in the stream of shoppers. Helen andChristina leaned against the counters for a rest.Taraboldly stretchedouton theblackloveseat. She knew the rule that sales associates had to remain standing, butTara alsoknewshe’dbeacustomeragain.Theownerwouldn’tdarereprimandher.

WhenTarawas lounging out of earshot,Christina said, “I want to takemy specialeveningpurseswithme.They’renotstorestock.IfanyoneasksforonewhileI’mgone,tellherI’llbebacknextFriday.”

54

“Fine,”Helensaid.Shewasrelievedthepurseswouldbeoutofthestore.She’dbeenwonderingwhattodoaboutthem.ShewasnotgoingtosellpillsforChristina.

Christinawentbacktopackupthepurses.Shereturnedwithawhiteboxandapinkbag.“I’mgoingtorunthemouttomycaronmybreak,”shesaid,pattingthebox.“ButIlikethisonesomuch,I’mkeepingitformyself.”Fromanestofhot-pinktissuepaperinthebag,shepulledoutateardrop-shapedpursemadeofgoldmesh.

“Thatlookslikerealgold,”Helensaid.“Itis,”Christinasaid.“Thispurseisfromtheearly1940s.Isn’titabeauty?Lookatthe

clasp.Thosearerealdiamonds.”Helenknewbetterthantoopenthepurse.ChristinawasbarelybackfromherbreakwhenBrittneywasatthedoor.Helenbuzzed

herin,andBrittneythankedherinthatwhisperyvoice.Helen couldnot tell—who could?—ifBrittneywas angry or happy.But she seemed

anxious to talk to Christina. The two women took Evian water and settled into theloveseats for a chat. Tara was busy accessorizing a customer. Helen tidied the shelvesunderthecashregister.

WhenHelencarriedanextraboxofpaddedhangerstothebackroom,sheheardwhatthe twowomenwere talking about: the best way to get evenwith Joe,Christina’s ex-almost fiancé.They’dbeenhaving this same conversation since the split, butChristinawasstillfurious.

“EverytimeIthinkaboutwhatthatmandidtome,Icouldmurderhim,”Christinasaid,raisinghervoice.Helennearlydroppedtheboxofhangers.Christinamusthaveseenher reaction, because the two women retired to the dressing room for a private talk.Christinadidn’tevenbothertotakeinanyclothestomakeitlooklikebusiness.

Helenlistenedatthedoor.IfChristinawasplottingamurder,Helenwasgoingtodoeverything she could to prevent it. Christina kept her voice low, and Brittney alwaystalkedinawhisper,soitwashardtohearwhattheysaid.ButHelenheardthismuch:

“DoyouknowwhatIspendeverymonth?”Brittneysaid,hervoicesoftasasigh.Shesoundedangry,ormaybeshewaspleading.

“Ineedmore,”Christinasaid.“They’reraisingmycondofees.”“Idon’thavemore,”Brittneysaid,thewhisperbecomingahiss.“I’mnotmadeoutof

money.”Thenthedoorchimed,andHelenhadtoanswerit.Awomanwithextravagantapricot

hairwantedtolookateveninggowns.BythetimeHelenhadsoldherasleeknewdesign,Brittneywasgone.

Helen was not sure what she had overheard.Was Christina reduced to begging formoney?Therewasnotimetoconsidertheproblem.Suddenly,thestorewasfloodedwithcustomers.Theyranherragged,demandingeversmallersizesandblamingHeleniftheycouldn’t fit intothem.Helenmoved inthezenlikestateachievedonlyduringthemosthecticandmiserablemomentsinretail.Whileshewaitedontherudewomen,sheusedmost of her mind to daydream about Cal. She was seeing him tonight at seven. Shecouldn’twait.Theyhadn’thadachancetotalksincetheirCap’sdatelastSaturday.

Astheunsatisfiedwomenorderedherabout,HelenbegantopaintherselfarosyfuturewiththeattractiveCanadian.Awomancoulddoworsethanspendtherestofherlifewith

55

amanwho told funny stories, she thought, putting blue skies and pink clouds in thepicture.

And though itwasway too early to think thisway,Calmightbemarriagematerial.Helenwasnotreadytobuyaweddingdressoranything.Thatwassilly.Butshecouldsense something solid aboutCal, something possible. Shewondered if theU.S. courtswouldtrackherallthewaytoCanada.

Suddenly, the flood of customers dried up, leaving behind their wreckage: piles ofabandonedclothesandaccessories, tanglesofhangers,carpets litteredwith tissuepaper,straightpins,andextrabuttons.Someonehadsmearedredlipstickonawhiteblouse.Ashirtreekedofperfume.

Helenwaswearilyhangingeverythingupwhenthephonerang.ItwasGilbertRoget,thestoreowner,callingfromCanada.“IsChristinathere?”hesaid.

“I’msorry,Mr.Roget.She’sbusywithacustomer.IstheresomethingIcanhelpyouwith?”

“Yes, could you askher to check an InternationalFedEx shippingbill?” he said.Hegaveherthenumber.“SomecustomerinBraziliscomplainingaboutthehighpriceofashipmenttohiswife,Bianca.Hecalledme.CouldChristinalookintoit?”

“Ofcourse,”Helensaid.“I’llmakesureshetakescareofittoday.”EspeciallysinceChristinacausedtheproblem,Helenthought.She’snotleavingmeto

dealwiththatmess.Christinawasfurious.ShecalledMr.Rogetandtoldhimitwasaclericalerror.Butthe

wily businessman demanded to knowwho had prepared the FedEx package.Christinahad to admit she had. She promised to refund the disputed portion to the unhappyBrazilian.HelenknewthemoneywouldhavetocomefromChristinaherself.

That’sprobablywhyChristinadidnoteventrytobeconciliatorywhenLauren’slawyerhusbandcalledabouthiswife’sshopliftingbill.

“IthinkIwaschargedtoomuch,”hesaid.“Mywifedidn’tbringhometheblouseandthebeltthatareonthebill.”

“Ican’tkeeptrackofherpurchasesoncesheleavesthestore,”Christinasaid.“Maybeshesoldthem.”

“MaybeIdidn’tbuythem,”hesaid.“Look,buddy,justbegladIdidn’thaveherskinnyassthrowninjail,”Christinasaid,

andslammeddownthephone.“Jesus!Howmuchworsecanthisdayget?”Christinaasked,fleeingtothebackroom.Herquestionwasansweredwhenthepill-poppingVenetiacameintothestore.Shewas

angry and jittery.Venetiademanded to seeChristina immediately.Her shrill voicewaslike an ice pick inHelen’s ear. Tara ran back to get her, whileHelen kept an eye onVenetia.

Helencouldhardlystandtobenearthewoman.Venetiabouncedbackandforthontheballsofherfeet,pickingatinvisiblelintonherYvesSaintLaurent.Pick.Pick.Pick.Bounce.Bounce.Bounce.Jitter.Pick.Bounce.ThewhitesofVenetia’seyeswerebrightyellow,thesamecolorasthetrimonhersuit.

She’sdefinitelystrung-out,Helenthought.I’mgladIdon’thavetodealwithher.WhenChristina bustled up,Venetia threw the black beaded purse at her.Christina

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ducked,anditflewpastherandskiddedacrossthecounter.Christina’shatwasknockedsideways.

Thedelicatelittlepurselookedlikeithadbeenmauledbybears.Thebeadingwastorn,thesilverclaspbroken,andthepinksilkliningshredded.

“It didn’t last,”Venetia said inherhigh voice, andHelenknew shewasnot talkingaboutthesilklining.

“I’msorryyou’renothappy,butthatisnotmyproblem,”Christinasaidsmoothly.“Takeitback,”Venetiasaid,hereyeswild,hervoicenearlyashriek.“Takeitback,and

givemebackmymoney.Allmymoney.Myhusbandisgoingthroughmyaccounts.”“Icannotdothat,”Christinasaid.“Therearenoreturnsonspecialitems.”“Iwantmymoney!”Venetiascreamed.“I’m sorry. You’ll have to leave,” Christina said in a firm voice. Tara gasped, as if

Christina had produced a flaming sword. She knew Venetia was being barred fromJuliana’sforever.

“You’llbesorry.You’llbeverysorry,”Venetiasaid,asthegreendoorclosedonherforthelasttime.

“Isthisafullmoonorwhat?”ChristinasaidtoHelen.“Crazycomplaintsmustcomeinthrees, like deaths.” She looked in the mirror, and straightened her hat to cover herswollencheek.“Isitsixo’clockyet?”

“No,butwhydon’tyouleaveearly?”Helensaid.“We’llcloseup.”“I’mouttahere,”Christinasaid.“I’llseeyounextFriday.YouandTaracanholdthe

fort.”Helenwasglad to seeChristinago.Shewatchedher slim figuredisappeardownLas

Olas,meltingintothetropicaltwilight.

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Chapter10

Helen stripped off her blouse and switched on theTV. Shewanted to catch the newswhileshedressedforherdatewithCal.Assheunzippedherskirt,shecaughtthewords“carjackingofatwenty-three-year-oldPlantationwoman.”

Helenstaredatthescreeninhorrorastheannouncersaid,“DesireeEaslee,wholivedin a gated community in suburbanPlantation,was shot and killed thismorning in anattemptedcarjacking.”

Desiree? Niki’s rival was dead? No, it couldn’t be. She wasn’t the only woman inFloridanamedDesiree.Helen’sskirtslidunnoticedtothefloor.

“Miss Easlee was engaged to be married to T-shirt entrepreneur James “Jimmy theShirt”Dellamondo.TheweddingwassupposedtotakeplaceinBelizenextSaturday,”theannouncersaid,andHelen’slasthopewasasdeadasDesiree.

On the screenwas a photo of a luscious-lipped blonde in a tight black dresswith azipperupthefront.Inthenextshot,Desireewasinaloose-fittingblackbodybagwithazipperupthefront.Desiree’senormousbreastscreatedamountaininthebodybag.

Adeadphotogenicbridemadegoodtelevision,andthestationhadputextraeffortintoreportingthisstory.Theannouncersaidthesecurityguarddidnothaveanyrecordofastrangecarbeingadmittedtothegatedcommunity,andthepolicehadnoleads.

No leads,Helen thought.She felt sickanddizzyandguilty.Herhead throbbedandpoundedwith the refrain:Desireewasdead.Desireewasdead.Andshedidnothing tostop it. Now she had a face to put with her crime of cowardice. An innocent youngwomanwasdeadaweekbeforeherwedding.

Icouldgivethepolicealead.Icouldtellthemwhosetthisup.IknowwhoarrangedthemurderofDesiree.Andwhy.

On the television, someonewas saying that gated communities gave a false sense ofsecurity to residents.The peoplewho lived there did not take the same precautions asresidentswholivedonpublicstreets.AneighborcomplainedtotheTVreporterthatthesecurityguardwasanoldmanwhofrequentlysleptwhileonduty.

Another woman, who identified herself as a doctor’s wife, defended the gatedcommunity.“Wehavetheguardforprestige,notsecurity,”thewomansaid.

Helencouldnot figureoutwhyadozingseniorcitizenwasprestigious.But itwasn’tfairthatthepoorgateguardwasgoingtobethescapegoatforthiscrime.Helenknewthiswasn’t a carjacking gonewrong. Itwas amurder for hire.Helen had heard thewholethingbeingplannedanddonenothing.

But what could she have told the police? See, officer, there’s this woman named

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Desiree.Idon’tknowherlastnameorwhereshelives,butNikiwantsherdeadbeforeshemarriesherboyfriend.Nikiwenttothemanagerofadressshoptohireahitman.AtleastIthinkthat’swhatwasgoingon.Icouldn’thearthemtalkingtooclearly.AndIneversawanymoneychangehands.

Helenwouldhavelookedlikeafool.ButDesireemightstillbealive.NowDesireewasdead.BeforeherweddingtoJimmytheT-shirtbaron,justlikeNiki

wanted.Christinahadarrangedthemurder,buttherewasnowayHelencouldproveit.ShehadadatewithCalinfiveminutes.She’dhavetocancel.Butwhatcouldshesay?

ThiswomanInevermetwaskilled,Cal.Ishouldhavestoppedit,althoughIdon’tknowhow.

TherewasnothingHelencouldhavedonedifferently.Therewasnothingshecoulddonow. She had to pull herself together and quit standing there like a statuewearing anunderwirebra.

Helenpulledonsomeclothes.Shehadnoideawhatsheputon.Onlyaftershelockedher frontdoordid shenotice shewaswearingcutoffsandaTweetyBirdT-shirt.Well,CatfishDewey’swassupposedtobecasual.

Shewasalmost to thepoolwhen sheheardCal say, “Don’tyou lookbeautiful?”Hewhistledappreciatively.

Unfortunately,CalwaswhistlingatPeggy,notHelen.Peggywaswearingalong,low-cutblackdressthatshowedoffherelegantfigureanddarkredhair.Thedresswasbareononeshoulder.Peggydidn’thaveherparrot.

“Where’sPete?”Helenasked.“He’shomealone for theevening. I’mgoing to theopera,andManon isnota sing-

along.There’smyride.Gottarun,”Peggysaid,asasilverLexuspulledintotheCoronadoparkinglot.

Peggy didn’t run. She glided to the car like a runwaymodel. Aman in impeccableeveningweargreetedPeggywarmlyandopenedherdoor.Hewastheatricallyhandsome,withburnishedblondhairhangingoveroneeyeandcheekbonesthatlookedlikethey’dbeenchiseledbyasculptor.HelenthoughtPeggy’sescortcouldbeaCalvinKleinmodeloramemberoftheHitlerYouth.

AndIcouldbeascrubwoman,Helenthought.“I’vealwayswantedtoaskPeggyout,”Calconfided,astheyclimbedintohisrattling

Buick.“Butshe’stooexpensiveforme.”“AndI’mcheap?”Helenasked.“No,no,”Calsaid,soothingly,“you’rejustah-bootperfect.”Thistime,his“ah-boot”

failedtocharmHelen,andshekeptahuffysilenceontheridetoCatfishDewey’s.Butshethawedwhentheygottotheoldrestaurant.CatfishDewey’swasashomeyasa

basementrathskeller.Shefeltinstantlycomfortablewithitsknottypinepanelingandred-checkedtablecloths.

Cal wanted the all-you-can-eat catfish. Helen had no compunction about orderingstonecrabclaws,themostexpensiveitemonthemenu.TheystillcostlessthandinneratCap’s.ItwasthefirsttimeHelenhadhadstonecrab,andshewasfascinated.Theclawsreallywerehardasstones.Harder.Theywerelikeconcrete.

“Stone crabs are pretty, don’t you think?” she asked Cal, as she dipped the sweet

59

crabmeatinmustardsauce.“Mostcrabslooklikeboiledspiders,butstonecrabsarepaleyellowwithflamingopinksplotchesandblacktips.”

“You lookpretty cutewith yellowonyour lip,”Cal said, ashedelicately removed ablobofmustardsaucewithhisnapkin.ThenhelaunchedintoataleaboutthefirsttimeheatealobsterthathadHelenlaughingagain.

He was delightful, Helen thought, and her anger dissolved. So what if hecomplimented Peggy? She was getting touchy. That’s what happened when you livedalonetoolong.No,that’swhathappenedwhenyouwererattledaboutDesiree.Buthermindquicklyskitteredawayfromthat.CatfishDewey’swasoverflowingwithfriendsandfamiliesdredgingfriesinketchupanddippinghushpuppiesintartarsauce.Therewasnoroomhereforcarjackingsandmurdersforhire.

CalandHelenspentthenextfewhourschatteringaway,whiletheirtiredbutefficientwaitresshauledoutbasketafterbasketofcrackedcrabandfriedcatfish.

Finally,Helenhadeatenherselfintoastupor.Shesurveyedthemoundsofemptycrabclawsandmustardsaucecupsandsaid,“Ithinkit’stimeforthecheck.”Calagreedandsignaledthewaitress.

Thewaitress produced that as quickly as the food.Cal grabbed for it andHelen lethim.Thenhepattedhisbackpocket.Suddenly,hebeganslappinghimselffrantically.Atfirst,Helen thoughthe’dbeenattackedbyan invisible swarmofmosquitoes.Then sherealizedCalwaspattinghisemptypockets.Next,heturnedhispantspocketsinsideout.

“I seem tohave forgottenmywallet,”Cal said. “I’ll pay youback as soon aswe gethome,butwouldyoumindpickingupthecheckthistime?”

Helenminded.Alot.ButshehadbeenwarnedbyMargerynottodinewithCal,andshe had not listened.On some level, shemust have been expecting this, because she’dtuckedseventy-fivebucksintoherpurse.Thebillcametoforty-eightdollarsandeight-sixcents.Thewaitressreturnedwithherchange.Helenwasseething,butshewasn’tsureifshewasmadatherselforCal.

Sheleftaten-dollartipforthedeservingwaitress,andwithoutawordtoCal,gotupandheadedtowardthedoor.Hecouldfollowornot, shedidn’tcare.Shefelt strangelylightafterthisdecision.Thensherealizeditwasbecauseshe’dleftherpursebackatthetable.Helenturnedaroundtoretrieveit,justintimetoseeCalfilchingthewaitress’stenspot.

“Putthatmoneydown!”Helensaid.Headsturned,butshedidn’tcarewhoheard.“Ican’tbelieveyou’dsinktostealingawaitress’stip.”

“Iwastakingitbackforyou,”Calsaid.“Ifyoutiptoomuch,itspoilsthehelp.”Hewas lying, and he knew she knew. The man actually cringed when she approached.Disgusting.

Helenyankedtheten-dollarbilloutofhishandandmarchedovertothewaitress,whowasstaringatthem.“Here.Thisisyours,”shesaid.HelenthoughtaboutwalkinghomebutdecidedCalcoulddriveher.Heowedherthatmuch.

All the way home Cal railed about rich Americans who tossed around money inFlorida, making life difficult for hardworking Canadians. The value of the Canadiandollar had sunk so low he couldn’t afford a decent life. AsCal ranted, he became theaggrievedparty.TheentireUnitedStateswaspersonallydeprivinghim.

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Helen didn’t answer. She kept remembering her landladyMargery’swords: “Talk ischeap,andsoisCal.”Shehadnothingelsetosay.HerangeratCalburnedawaythelastthoughtsofDesiree.

Back at the Coronado apartments, they both got out and slammed their car doorssimultaneously.Cal stompedoff tohis apartment.He slammed thatdoor, too, sohardthejalousieglassrattled.

Helendidn’twanttogoinsideyet.Shewastooupset.Shehopedthesoft,humidnightwould comfort her. Shewandered over by the pool and saw Peggy sitting in a loungechairbythewater.Shewasstillwearingherglamorousblackdress,butnowshehadPeteonher shoulder.Pete lookedruffledandgrumpy,butPeggy seemedcompletewithherparrot.

“Baddate?”Peggysaid,sympathetically.“Unbelievable,”Helensaid,andgaveherthedetails.“Oh,Ibelieveit,”Peggysaid.“I’vedatedeverybuminBrowardCounty.”“But youwent to the opera tonightwith awonderfulman,”Helen said.As soon as

she’dsaidit,sherealizedPeggywasaloneinthedark,justlikeshewas.“Awonderfulgayman,”Peggysaid.“Troy’spartnerisinParisonbusiness.HeknowsI

likeoperaandcan’taffordtickets.Troywaskindenoughtoaskmetogowithhim.InSouthFlorida,allthegoodmenareeithermarriedorgay.”

“Isitreallythatbleak?”“Yes.Pete’smymainmannow.”Theparrothoppedtriumphantlybackandforthon

hersmoothshoulder.Peggy,paleandbeautiful inthemoonlight, lookedlikeaprincessheldprisonerbyagreengoblin.

“Thenthere’snohope?”Helensaid,althoughshealreadyknewtheanswer.“Surethereis,”Peggysaid.“Ibuylotterytickets.Myplanistowinbigandbuymea

goodman.”Peggy’s sad laughter followedHelen all theway toher apartment.As shepassedher

neighbor Phil’s door, she was surrounded by a thick sinsemilla smog. The invisiblepotheadwasburningsomefineweedtonight.

LuckyPhil,shethought.Hecouldfireuphisdreamswheneverhewanted.

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Chapter11

Margeryneversaid“Itoldyouso.”Helen’slandladysimplyturnedupatherdoorSundayafternoonwithaplateoffudge.

“Here,”shesaid.“Chocolatecuresalmosteverything.”“Evenstupidity?”Helensaid.Shebitintoathickdarksquare.Itwasbitterchocolate.

“Mmmm.Myfavorite.”Margery’svioletshortswerethecoloroftheeveningsky.Herredtoenailpolishwasa

tropicalsunset.Herkind,shrewdoldeyesseemedtoseestraightintoHelen.“Welcome toSouthFlorida, landofdeadbeats,drunks, anddruggies,”Margery said,

helpingherself to apieceof fudge. “Mostof the singlemendownhere are someotherwoman’smistake.Thetrickisnottomakethemyourmistake.”

“Ishouldhavelistenedtoyou,”Helensaid.“Ididn’tbelieveanyonecouldbesocheap.Calstolethewaitress’stip.That’sdisgusting.”

“Canadians are stingy tippers. You’ve heard the local joke: What’s the differencebetweenacanoeandaCanadian?”

Helenshookherhead.“Acanoetips,”Margerysaid.Helentriedtolaughbutshecouldn’t.Nothingseemedfunnyrightnow.Margeryturnedserious.“You’reaniceperson,Helen.Iworryaboutyou.Thisisn’tthe

Midwest. In South Florida, everyone is running from somebody or something: badweather,baddebts,abadlife,abadspouse.Orthey’vedonesomethingbad.

“Nobodyhasrootshere.IntheMidwest,ifyoudon’tknowaguy,youcanmakeafewphone calls and find out about him.Down here, women hire private detectives to dobackgroundchecks.Toooften,theyfindouttheyareabouttomarryadeadbeatdad,abisexual,oramanintroublewiththelaw.Iknowyou’rerunningfromsomething,too.Isuspectsomemanhurtyou.Idon’twantyoutogethurtagain.”

“TheMidwestdoesn’thavealockonmorality,”Helensaid,thinkingofherex.“Iknow,”Margery said, reaching formore fudge.“But thereyoucan findoutabout

thebadoperatorsalittlesooner.”I didn’t, Helen thought. She changed the subject abruptly. “What can you tell me

aboutmynextdoorneighbor,Philtheinvisiblepothead?”“He’snotinvisible,”Margerysaid.“Iseehimallthetime.”“Ihaven’tseenhidenorhairofhim,”Helensaid.“Well, he’s the last of the real hippies.He’s a little older than you.Has a long gray

ponytailandinterestingT-shirts.Alwayspayshisrentontime.He’sarealEricClapton

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fan.”“Heis?Ineverhearanymusic,”Helensaid.“Heusesheadphones.Philisveryconsiderate.Buthe’snotagoodmanforyou,dear.

Andwhilewe’reonthesubjectofmen,noonefromSt.Louishasbeenaskingforyou.Iwouldcallyouatworkifanyonecamesnoopingaround.Ikeepaneyeonyourplace.”

HelenhadconfidedtoMargeryonlythatshewasafraidofherex-husband,whomightcomelookingforher.Shedidn’tsaywhy.Helendidnotmentionthecourt.

“Thankyou.And thanks for thechocolate,”Helen said.“It’s justwhat Ineeded. I’llbringyourplatebacktomorrow.”

“Don’tworryaboutCal,”Margerysaid.“I’llmakesurehedoesn’tbotheryou.”KindnessandchocolatehelpedHelengetoverherbaddate.Buttherewasnocurefor

herunquietconscience.Desiree,thebrideinthebodybag,tormentedherallnight.OnMonday,shewentbacktowhereDesiree’sdeathhadbeenplotted.WhatifNiki

camein?WhatwouldHelensaytoher?Shedreadedherfirstdayincharge,butJuliana’sran smoothly.Only regulars stoppedby, soHelendidnothave toworryaboutbarringanyonefromwalkingthoughthegreendoor.

Onherlunchhour,shefoundagoodjobprospect.Helentalkedwiththemanagerandmadeanappointmentforaninterviewwiththestoreownerafterwork.SheleftJuliana’sthateveningexcitedandhopeful.

Shewas interviewing fora salesassociate’s jobataLasOlas shoptwoblockswestofJuliana’s.Helenlikedeverythingaboutit.PamMarshall,theowner,wasastylishwomaninherearlyfifties,withlaughlinesandeyecrinkles.Shewaseasywithherageandherself.

Pam’sstoresoldclothesHelenwouldwear,ifshecouldaffordthem.Helensawactualsize twelves, even fourteens and sixteens.She liked that, too.She liked sitting inPam’scomfortablyclutteredoffice,drinkingfreshcoffeewithher.Shelikedthepaybestofall:seven fifty an hour. Already,Helen was calculating what she would do with the extramoney.

“Sowhencanyoustart?”Pamasked,takinganothersipofhersugar-lacedcoffee.Yes! Helen thought, I’ve got it. “I’d have to give my current employer two weeks’

notice.”“Good,”Pamsaid.“Ilikeemployeeswhoplayfair.”“And—”Helenhesitated,searchingfortherightwords.“Ihavetobepaidincashonly.

Idon’twanttobeonthebooks.”“WhataboutyourFICAandtaxes?”Pamsaid.“IfIdon’texist,thenyoudon’thavetoworryaboutthem,”Helensaid.Pam leaned forward and looked Helen in the eye. “I’m supposed to cheat the

governmentsoyoucanhavea fewextrabucksaweek?I’mnotachiseler,Helen.I’mabusinesswoman.AndI’msurprisedatyou.”

Pamputhercoffeecupdownandstoodup.Theinterviewwasover.Helenslunkaway,scaldedwithshame.Thisiswhatshe’dbecome,apettycheat.Justlikeherex.

SheheadedforherapartmentattheCoronadolikeawoundedanimalcrawlingtoitscave.Onceinside,shehadtogetout.Theroomseemedtoosmalltocontainhermisery.

If she went out by the pool, she might run into Cal. So what? she decided. If shecouldn’t faceherself, shecouldat least facea tip-swiper.Calwasnotgoingtokeepher

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away from her favorite place. Helen put on some shorts, squared her shoulders, andmarchedout,takinghernewspaperwithher.ShecouldalwayshidebehindthejobadsifthingsgotstickywithCal.

Margeryhadkeptherword.PeggyandPetewerebythepool,butCaldidnotcomeout that evening. He stayed in his apartment and cooked up bushels of broccoli andbrussels sprouts.Calnotonly came from theEnglish-speakingpartofCanada,but theEnglish-cookingpart.Helovedovercookedvegetables.

“Afterall,theyarecheap,”PeggyremindedHelen.“Andobnoxious,”Helensaid.The stinkofboiledbroccolinearlyoverpoweredPhil’spot smoke.MaybeCalwould

becomeasinvisibleasPhil.Helensuspectedhewasavoidingherdeliberately.ShethoughtCalwouldhideinsideandliveonbroccoliuntilheturnedgreentoavoidpayingfortheirCatfishDewey’sdinner.

Helenpickedupherpaper and studied thewant ads.Marinebiologist.Meat cutter.Mechanic.Moreskillsshedidn’thave.

“Sohowisthejobsearchgoing?”Peggyasked.“It’snot,”Helensaid.“You’retoopicky,”Peggysaid.“Icanfindyoutwohigh-payingjobsinnotime.Give

methoseads.”She took the paper from Helen and started reading. Pete sat on her shoulder and

studied the ads, too.Ormaybehewonderedwhy someonewas holdinghis cage liner.Eitherway,thequizzicalgreenbirdmadeHelenlaugh.

“Here’s one,” Peggy said. “ ‘Dancer/escort—Twelve hundred dollars a day. Cashguaranteed.Easyentertainment.’Canyoudance?”

“Me?Myfamily’sGerman.Unlessit’satunewithatubainit,Ican’tdance.”“HawthorneisGerman?”Peggysaid.Thatwasastupidslip,Helenthought.“No,Hawthorneismymarriedname,”shelied.

TodistractPeggyshesaid,“What’stheotherjobchoice?”“Wrestling. The ad says, ‘We need athletic females of all types and sizes. Earn one

hundreddollarsanhour.Noexperiencenecessary.’”Helenpretendedtoconsiderthead.“WherewouldIwrestleat?”“Thebigquestioniswhatyouwouldwrestlein.”“In?”Helenechoed.“Want-adwrestlingisgenerallydoneinsomething:JellO,mud,Karosyrup.Forsome

reason, the guys at the clubs get off on that.They also get to spray youwithwhippedcream,butthat’sextra.

“Ofcoursethiswrestlinggigcouldbeporn.Thenyou’dbewrestlinginsomethingelse—adirtymovie.”

“Forahundredbucksanhour?Andnoresiduals?”Helensaid.“Hmm,” Peggy said. “Wrestling could be hard on your back. How’s your health

insurance?”“Don’thaveany,”Helensaid,happytotellthetruthforonce.“Thenyouneedtobuysomelotterytickets,”Peggysaid,andwasbackonherfavorite

subject.“The lottery isupto forty-twomillion. I’vegotanewsystemforwinning. I’ve

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read the interviews. The big winners use family birthdays for their numbers. Thosenumbersmustbelucky.I’musingmymother’sbirthdayandPete’s.”

“Awwwk!”Petesaid.“Doyouthinkparrotbirthdayscountthesameashumanones?”Helensaid.“Pete’sfamily.He’sclosertomethananyone.”Therewasaflashofpurple,andMargerythelandladychargedpastthebougainvillea,

frighteningPeteintoasquawkingfitthateveryoneignored.Helenhadneverseenhersobrilliantlydressed.Margery’seveningshortsweredeeporchid,hertoenailstangerine,andshewaswearingpurplesandalsthatendedinbigbowsatherslenderankles.Helenwishedshehadthecouragetowearshoeslikethat.

MargerysatdowninthechaiselonguenexttoHelen.“Waittillyouseewho’smovinginto2C,girls,”shesaid.“HaveIgotatreatforyou.”

“Who?”HelenandPeggysaid,soundinglikeapairofowls.Withthat,thejungleofpoolsidepalmsparted,andoutsteppedTarzaningymshorts.

Helenexpectedhimtouprootthepalmswithhisbarehands.Longblackhairtumbledpasthistannedshoulders.HishighSlaviccheekbonesgavean

interestingslanttohiscobaltblueeyes.Hewassixfeettallandstrong,butwithoutthegnarledgymmusclesHelenhated.Thismanlyvisionwaswearingthesmallestpairofredshortsthelawallowed,withaninterestingbulgeinfront.

“HelookslikeFabio,”Peggywhispered.“Onlybetter.”Helen could feel the sexual electricity surge across the Coronado lawn. The heavy,

humidairseemedabouttoexplode.Thefabuloushalf-nakedhunkwasheadingstraightfor them.Hestrodeover thegrass,analmostuncladcolossus.Oiledmuscles rippled inhismightythighs.Helenthoughtofstatuesofthewingedgod,Mercury.HelenthoughtofthingsthenunsinSt.Louissaidwereoccasionsofsin.

“Oh,my,”Helensaid.ThemanlyvisionstoppedinfrontofMargery’schaiselongue.Hebentdown,exposing

tempting tanned crescents ofmuscled buttock, and gaveMargery a chaste kiss on thecheek.Sheblushed.

“Thankyouforeverything,”hesaid,lookingdeepintoMargery’seyes.Hisvoicewasacaress.Heproduced abusiness card fromGodknowswhere. “If you everneedme foranything,anythingatall,justcallthisnumber.”Thegodlikefiguredisappearedbackintothepalmjungle.

“Oh,my,”Peggybreathed.“IknowwhatIneed.”“This is a setup,”Helen said,hoping to recoverherwits. “He’s aChippendale.You

paidhim.”“He’spayingme,”Margerysaid,smugly.“He’sthenewrenterin2C.Imadehimsome

ofmyfudge.Naturally,hewasgrateful.”“Ishemortal?Doeshehaveaname?”Peggysaid.“Daniel Dayson.” Margery pronounced it the way some women would say Matt

DamonorRussellCrowe.“He’sthemostbeautifulmanI’veeverseen,andI’mworkingonmyeighthdecadeofguywatching.”

“IsDanielstraight?”Helensaid.ItwasasadfactinSouthFloridathatthebestbodiesusuallybelongedtogaymen.

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“Thatboyhasplentyofladyfriends,butheneedstherightwoman,”Margerysaid.“That’sme,”Helensaid,butsheknewitwashopeless.Shewastooordinaryforaman

wholookedlikethat.“He’sgottobeamalemodel.Oranexoticdancer,”Peggysaid.“Wrong,”Margerysaid.“He’safireequipmentinspector.”“He’s hot enough to inspect my equipment any time,” Peggy said, and the three

womenlaunchedintoadeplorableseriesofjokesinvolvingfirehosesandheat.When they finished, Helen’s stomach hurt from laughing. Her brain sizzled with

suppresseddesire. “I think I’mmore impressed by his steady job thanhis eye-poppingphysique,”shesaid.

“I’mnot,”Peggysaid.“AlthoughIadmitamanwithajobisararitydownhere.Butoh,lord,thewaythatmanmoves...”

“Squaaak!”Petetheparrotsaid,hoppingbackandforthonhershoulder.“Shutup,”Peggysaidabsently,brushingthebirdaside.Petesatinstunnedsilence.It

wasthefirsttimeshe’devertalkedtoPetelikethat.

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Chapter12

Desireewasdead.Helencould forget that forhalf anhouror evenhalf aday.Then she’d see ayoung

womanwithblondehair tumblingdownherbackorhear anewscaster’s solemnvoice,and itwouldcomerushingback.Onceagain, she’d see that shockingnewsstory.First,thebride-to-beinherblackdress,theninherblackbodybag.

Desireewasdead.Desireewasdead.AsHelenwalkedhomefromworkTuesdaynight,herfeetpoundedthatrhythmintothepavement.

Helenwentdraggingintohersmall,stuffyapartmentandthrewherselfonthelumpybed,notevenbotheringtochangeoutofhersuit.Herfeethurt.Herheadhurt.Shefeltoldandfatandtired.Butmostofall, she feltdiscouraged.She’dwastedanother lunchhourlookingforwork.Christinawasduebackinthreedays,andHelenstilldidnothaveanotherjob.ShewouldneverescapeJuliana’s.Shewouldnevergetawayfromherguilt.

Desireewasdead.Desireewasdead.ThewordspoundedinHelen’sheaduntil itfeltlikethewholeroomwasbeatingtotherhythm.

ThenHelen realized the whole roomwas beating to the rhythm.Her landlady waspoundingonthedoorandcallinghername.Thatwomanhadquiteanarmonher.Whatwaswrong now?DidMargerywant to raise the rent?Helen straightened her rumpledsuit,pushedherhairback,andopenedthedoor.

Margery looked likeanexoticorchid ina swirling lavender-print shorts set.Her toeswere painted fuchsia. In her hand was a glass plate with one perfect chocolate-dippedstrawberry.

“Thought thismightcheeryouup,”Margery said. “You look like fortymilesofbadroad.You’retooyoungandprettytobesohangdog.”

Margery was smart, Helen thought. Her landlady had seen the slump of Helen’sshouldersasshecameupthesidewalkandknewsomethingwaswrong.Ratherthanprobewithnosyquestions,Margerypliedherwithchocolate.Italmostworked.Foraminute,Helen thought of telling her about Desiree’s death. But then she hesitated, and theimpulsewaslost.Helenhadkeptsilentforsolong,shehadlosttheabilitytoconfide.

Likeallgoodliars,Helenknewenoughtotellpartofthetruthwhenpossible.Soshesaid,“Work’sgettingmedown,Margery.IfeellikealumberjackaroundthosewomenatJuliana’s.”

MargerysnortedsohardithurtHelen’ssinuses.“Youdon’twantto looklikeoneofthosehelplessBarbiedolls,doyou?”

“It’s not how they look. It’s how theymakeme feel. SoMidwestern. So out of it.

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They’resofashionable.They’resoSouthBeach.”“Helen,”Margerysaid.“ThosewomenarenotrealSouthBeach.They’reonlywanna-

bes.That’swhyJuliana’shastokeeppeopleout.Becausethey’reafraid.OnSouthBeach,thedoorsarewideopen.Everyonecanwalkinandsucceed—orfallflatonherface.”

“No,”Helenprotested. “Christinabelongs. She goes to all the clubs. She knows theSouthBeachnightlife.She’s seenatall thehotplaces:Mynt.Pearl.Kiss.Rain.Crobar.ShegoestodinneratTheForge.She’sbeentoB.E.D.withfourwomenandoneman.”

“Idon’tcareabouthersexlife,”Margerysaid.“No.B.E.D. is thenameof theclub.Itcostsabouta thousanddollars togetagood

bed,atleastthat’swhatChristinasaid,butyousitonthesebigbeds,see,and—”“The guys get to say, ‘I went to B.E.D. with four women last night.’ Real

sophisticated.”Margerysniffed.Helenwasgratefulshedidn’tsnort.“I guess that sounds silly. But Christina was at Bash the night Leonardo DiCaprio

dancedtopless.”“That’swhatshesays.MaybeshejustreadaboutitinOceanDrivemagazine.ButI’ll

tellyouthismuch,Helen,even if shewas there—shemayrememberLeonardo,buthewon’trememberher.Youdon’tneedtoknowthenamesoftheclubs.Halfofthemwillbe out of business by next week.Don’t let Christina intimidate you. If she was reallySouthBeach,she’dbeinSouthBeach,notFortLauderdale.

“Eatyourstrawberry.You’llfeelbetter,”Margerycommanded.“I’vegottago.”Andshewasgone,leavingHelenwithoneperfectstrawberry.Helenateitintinybites,

makingitlastaslongaspossible.Onanyothernight,itwouldhavecheeredherup.Butnot tonight.Tonight shehadto livewithDesiree’sdeath.Tonight, shealsohadto livewithherpast.

Astheeveningsunsanklower,sodidHelen’sspirits.Inanotherhour,shewouldhavetogetoutthecellphonesheonlyusedonceamonthandcallherfamily.Helendreadedhermother’stears.Noteventhecallafterwardtoherbelovedsister,Kathy,wouldmakethingsbetter.

Itwasalmostseveno’clock.Timeforthecallhome.Helenlockedthedoors,closedtheblinds, and opened the door to the closet with the water heater. She pulled out thesuitcase and rummaged through theold-ladyunderwearuntil she found the cellphoneandapieceofpinkcellophanefromagiftbasket.

Helendidn’thaveaphoneinLauderdale.Shedidn’twanttobetraced.She’dboughtthisoneinKansasCityandmailedhersisterKathyathousanddollarstopaythemonthlyphonebills.Helenhoped thatwould cover them for a long time. If anyone foundoutabout thephone, itwas registered toa falsenameandpurchased inKansas.Shehopedthatwouldbeenoughtoconfuseanypursuers.

Helen braced herself, and dialed her mother’s number in St. Louis. “I will not getangry,” she told herself. “Iwill not shout.Mombelongs to a different generation. Shedoesn’tunderstand.”

“Hello, Mom,” she said. Her mother burst into tears. Actually, it was more like awhiningwail.ItalwayssetHelen’steethonedge.

ThephonecallwentexactlyasHelenexpected.HermothercriedandbeggedHelentocomehomeandbeagoodwifetoherbadhusband.“Thinkofyourimmortalsoul,”her

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mothersobbed.“ThePopesaysdivorceiswrong.”“SoletthePopelivewithhim,”Helensaid,thenregrettedheroutburst.Shehadhurt

hermother’sfeelingsagain.“Wecouldgetalawyerandworkouttheotherproblem,Helenhoney,ifyou’djustget

backwithyourhusband.”Theotherproblem.Helencouldnottalkaboutthat.Shebroughtoutthepieceofpink

cellophane.Itwasherescape.Shecrinkledthecellophaneandsaid,“What’sthat,Mom?Ican’thearyou.Ihavetogonow.You’rebreakingup.I’llcallagainonyourbirthday.Bye,Mom.”

Helenhungupthephone.Theshortconversationleftheremotionallydrained,astiredasifshe’dbeendiggingditches.Atleastthecalltohersisterwouldbeeasier.KathywastheonlypersonfromheroldlifewhoknewwhereHelenwasandhowtoreachherinanemergency.

Kathylivedinthenear-perfectSt.LouissuburbofWebsterGroves.SheandTomhadanewbaby,Allison,andten-year-oldTommyJunior.Theyalsohadabigoldhousethatneeded paint and new plumbing. Tom’s salary was frozen at 1999 levels, and Kathyworked part-time as a checker at Target. But she rarely talked about their moneyproblems.

“Helen,yousoundtired,”Kathysaid,whensheansweredthephone.“I’vebeentalkingtoMom,”Helensaid.“Wasitawful?”“Noworsethanusual.”“Seriously,Sis,howareyoudoing?”Kathyasked.“I’mfine. I likemynew life. I like theweatherhere. Iwasted toomuchtimesitting

insideintheSt.Louiswinters.Ihatewinter.IfeellikeIgothalfmylifeback.”Helenrealized,onceshesaidit,thatitwastrue.Ifshecouldjustfindanotherjoband

figureoutwhattodoaboutChristina,hernewlifewouldbegood.Shedidn’tmissheroldlifeorheroldjob.Onlyheroldpaycheck.

“Youknowifyou’reeverintrouble,youcancallme,”Kathysaid.“I’llsendyoumoneyorcomegetyou.I’llhirealawyer.I’llpostbailifyou’rearrested.Whateveryouwant.”

“I know,”Helen said. She also knew she’d never call her sister for help.Kathy hadenoughproblemswithheractivefamily.

TheyspenttherestofthetimetalkingaboutTomandthekids.Goodthings.Everydaythings.AndifHelenweretrulyhonest,thingssheneverwanted.

“That’sthebabycrying.I’vegottorun.Goodnight,Sis.Iloveyou,”Kathysaid.“I love you, too,”Helen said, feeling better, and lonelier, too. She switched off the

phoneandburieditinthesuitcase.

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Chapter13

Helenmadeherfirstexecutivedecisionat10:02Wednesdaymorning.Shewasinchargeat Juliana’s. She had the power to keep out any woman in the world. The more sherefused,themoreshebuiltthestore’sreputation.

Thedoorbellchimed.Tarasaid,“I’mnotsureweshouldletthiswomanin.”“What’swrongwithher?”Helensaid.“She’swearingcheapshoes,”Tarasaid.Shesoundedasiftheywerecontagious.Helen

looked. The woman was dressed in real Gucci, but her shoes were third-rate Pradaknockoffs.

“Letherin,”Helenruled.Itfeltgoodtosaythat.“ButChristinaneverletsinanyonewithcheapshoes.”“Christinaisn’there,”Helensaid.“I’mmanagerthisweek.”Shebuzzedinthewoman,

to Tara’s silent disapproval.Helen felt triumphant whenMs. Cheap Shoes bought anexpensivedress.

Therewasnoquestionaboutadmittingthenextwoman.Shewasaprofessionalbeautywithartfullytossedlonghair.Shehaddarkhypnoticeyesinapaleheart-shapedface.Herwhitesilkshirtlookedcasualinthewayonlythousand-dollarshirtscan.Herjeansfitlikeasecondskin.Herwhitecalfskinbootsmadeherlegslookevenlongerandslimmer.

“She’sgorgeous,”Helensaid.“HernameisSharmayne.Sheusedtobeamodel,”Tarasaid.“SheisChristina’sonly

failure.”BeforeTaracouldexplain,Sharmaynestrodeinwiththatlook-at-memodel’swalkand

demanded,“Where’sChristina?”“She’sonvacation,”Helensaid.“Thenyou’llhavetodo,”shesaid,imperiously.Sharmaynepointed to the shirts, skirts, tops, anddresses shewanted to tryon.Tara

andHelenstaggeredbacktothedressingroomunderloadsofclothes.Fiveminuteslater,Sharmaynestuckherheadoutthedoor.“There’snobeltonthebottle-greenD&G,”shesaid.

“I’ll get it,” Helen said. She found the belt in the stockroom, knocked once onSharmayne’sdoor,andopenedit.Theformermodelwassittingnakedinthesilkchair.Helenfroze.Shehadherfirstfemaleflasher.

Christinahadwarnedheraboutthem.Catchingsightofbarebreastsandbunswasanoccupational hazard for the sales associates at Juliana’s. The customers had beautifulbodies,andtheywereusedtoexhibitingthem.Tanlineswererare.Mostwomendidn’t

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coverupwhenHelenbroughtinmoreclothes,eventhoughshealwaysknockedonthedoor andwaited for them to say, “Come in.”But therewas a kind of naivete to theirnudity.

Afemaleflasherdidn’tshowoffherperfectbreastsortrimthighs.She’dsitinthesilkchairwithherlegsspreadlikeaHustlercenterfold,daringthesalespersontostare.

HelenhadaskedChristinaiftheseflasherswerelesbians.“It’snotaboutsex.It’saboutpower,”Christina told her. “Flasherwomen are treating you like a servant, a nothing.Theyknowyoucan’tcomplain.DoyouthinkMr.Rogetcaresifaclerkisharassedbyabigspender?”

“SowhatdoIdoifIgetone?”Helenhadasked.“Pretendshe’sdressed.Itpissesheroff.”Helen steeled herself for her first confrontation with a female flasher. Sharmayne is

dressed, she told herself. She’s dressed in a jumpsuit. She’s . . . not sitting quite like aflasher.Herlegsareclosed.Andwhat’sonherthighs?Somekindofweirdstocking?

Helen couldn’t stop herself. She stared at Sharmayne’s thighs. They were ruined byripplingtrenchesandcraters.Theskinovertheindentationssaggedlikeanoldwoman’s.Worse,itwasflaky-dryandblotchy.

Abotchedliposuction.Helenhadseenthosetelltaleripplescarsbefore,butneverthisbad.

“A former model,” Tara had called Sharmayne. With those scars, she was banishedfrom the catwalk forever. She could never do anything but the dreariest catalog anddepartment store work. When she saw the pity in Helen’s face, she turned defiant.“Admiringyourboss’shandiwork?”shesaid.

Helenwasspeechless.“Christinarecommendedthedoctorforthisliposuction.Saidhenevermadeamistake.

Exceptthatday,hedid.Turnedoutthegooddoctorhadalittlealcoholandpillproblem.Iwashiswake-upcall.Hegottreatment,andhesettledoutofcourt.Ihadtopromisetonevermentionhisname,butthankstomylawyer,Icanaffordtoshopherefortherestofmylife.”

Helencouldtellthatwasn’tenough.Sharmaynefedonadmiration.Onceanyonesawherscars,itwasgone.Shewasastarvingrichwoman.

“ImakeChristinawait onme,” she said. “Just to remind her. I don’t think Iwantanythingtoday.”

Helenclosedthedressingroomdoor.IttookHelenandTarahalfanhourtohangupallSharmayne’sclothes.Tarawasno

biggerthanatwelve-year-oldgirl,butsheworkedlikeadockhand,haulingtheheaviestloads.Shehadquitflippingandtouchingherlonghair.Shewastoobusy.

TaraknewhowtosellclothestoJuliana’scustomers,perhapsbecauseshedressedlikethem.Helenwouldneverhavedaredwearthosesnakeskinlow-risejeansorthematchingtopthatbaredhermidsection.Helenwouldlooklikeahooker.Taralookedcute.

Tara admitted the sales job was harder than it looked. “I’m so tired at night I fallstraight intobed,andPauliehas tomassagemyfeet.”Shehelduponeplatformedfootwithitsshell-pinknails.

ThenTara picked up another blouse and buttoned it on a padded hanger. “Helen,

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whenI’maregularcustomeragain,IpromiseIwillputeverythingbackonthehangers.”Inthequiettimesbetweencustomers,HelenandTaratalked.TarahadbeenaJuliana’s

regular for six years. She knew everything about everyone, evenwhereBrittney got herendlesssupplyofmoney.

“That’ssuchasadstory,”Tarasaid.Sheleanedforward,herlonghairformingadarkveil.“ShewasengagedtothisrichmillionairenamedSteve....”

InLauderdale,therewerepoormillionaires,whoweremortgagedtothehilt,andthosewhoweresolvent.Theyweretherichmillionaires.

“Brittneywas supposed tomarrySteve.She really lovedhim.Theyweregoing tobemarriedattheBiltmore.Abigweddingwithasit-downdinner.Wewereallinvited.Ihadthecutesthotpinkdresswiththeselittlespaghettistraps.Icouldn’tbringmyselftowearitafterwhathappened.”

Taralookedsad,butHelendidn’tknowifitwasbecauseofBrittney’stragiclossorherown.

“Whathappened?”Helenprompted.“Stevecommitted suicide rightbefore thewedding.Nooneknewwhy.Brittney said

thathe’dbeenreallydown,butStevewouldnottellherwhatwaswrong.Hedidn’tleaveasuicidenote.He’dbeendrinkingmorethanusual.TheyfoundhisbodyinacanalneartheSeventeenthStreetBridge.HeleftBrittneyeverythinginhiswill:atwo-million-dollarhouseinBridgeHarbour,stocks,bonds,andalotofmoney.”

“Ifshehaslotsofmoney,whydidshedateamobsterlikeVinnie?”Helensaid.TaralookedsurprisedthatHelenwouldask.“Youhavetohaveaboyfriend,”shesaid.“What about the Golden Beach guy?” Helen said, remembering Brittney’s timely

thank-yougifttoChristina.“Brittneydidn’tfitinwithhisstuffyoldfriends,”Tarasaid.“Hiswifemadeaterrible

fuss.Mostwivesknowtheirhusbandsdate,and they’regrateful theydon’thave to . . .youknow...butnotthisone.”

Helenknew,butshewasstillamazedbyTara’spriggishness.Shecouldn’tevenbringherselftosaysomethinglike“sleepwiththeirhusbands.”

HelenalsonoticedthatBrittney’sGoldenBeachboyfriendwasmarried,andsowashermobster,Vinnie.Brittneylikedotherwomen’smen.

HelenenjoyedTara’sstories.TheymadeJuliana’ssoundlikeasoapopera.Thisweekwasalmostlikeavacationforher,too.HelencouldnotforgetChristina’sskimming,drugdealing,maybeevenmurderforhire.She’dclosedhereyestothatoncebefore,andnowDesireeEasleewasdead.ButshehadonlytwodaysbeforeChristinereturned.Shehadtofacethatuglyreality.

WhenHelen came back from lunch, she found Tara staring at herself in the triplemirror.

“Ineedtoperkupmytits,”Tarasaid.HerbreastslookedplentyperkytoHelen,andshesaidso.

“Doyoureally thinkso? I think theyarea littledroopy.Pauliehasaplastic surgeonfriendwhosayshe’llworkonmeforfree.Hewouldn’tmakemeanybigger, justputalittleontoptotipthemupagain.”

“Tara, you’re perfect,” Helen said. “You saw what happened to Sharmayne. Why

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wouldyoudothattoyourself?”Tara shrugged. “Everyone gets boob jobs. They’re like a visit to the gynecologist or

something.Besides,Idon’twanttolosePaulie.”“Paulie is crazy about you,”Helen said. “And even if you did lose him, which you

wouldn’t,thereareothermen.”Helendidn’t add “other bettermen,whodon’t talk about your breasts andbuns in

public,”butTaraheardherunspokenwords.“YouthinkPaulie’skindacrude,don’tyou?”Helen hesitated, choosing her words carefully. She waited too long. Tara said, “I’m

running out of options, Helen. I got refused at a South Beach club. That’s neverhappened.”

“Whatdoyoumean,refused?”Helensaid.“Ihadtowaitinlinewiththetouristsandthenobodies,withthepeoplesaying,‘I’m

theowner’spersonaltrainer.’‘I’mhisphotographer.’Itwashumiliating.“I always get in. I wear the right clothes. I never wear cheap shoes. This time, the

bouncersmademewait.That’sneverhappenedbefore.NotinNewYorkorLA.Butithappened in South Beach. I’m losing it, Helen. I have to hang onto Paulie. He hasmoney,andhecaresaboutme.”

“Doyoucareabouthim?”Helensaid.“Icareaboutsurviving,”Tarasaid.HelenfeltsorryforTara.That’swhatallthishigh-risksurgeryanddietingwasabout.

Survival.Tara felt sheonlyhadonecommodity tooffer,her looks,andshe fearedtheywerefading.

“Icamesoclosetomakingit,”shetoldHelen.“SocloseIcouldalmosttouchit.Thenitallslippedaway.ItwasbecauseofSeptembereleventh.InevertoldyouwhatSeptembereleventhdidtome.Ilostsomuch.IcriedandcrieduntilIcouldn’tcryanymore.”

“Didyoulosefamilymembersorfriends?”Helensaid.“Worse. It was personal,” Tara said. “Paulie and I were supposed to stay with this

movieproducerinLA.Hewasgivingabigpartywithmoviestarsandeverything.Thentheattackshappened,andwecouldn’tgo.All the flights toLAwerecanceled fordays.The producerwas supposed to giveme an audition. Pauliewas going to put up somemoneyforhismovie.”

Helenthoughtshewasmissingsomeconnectionhere.Whydidn’tTaraflyoutlaterfortheaudition?“Was theproducerononeof thehijackedplanes?Orwashekilled someotherway?”shesaid.

“At the box office,” Tara said. “His film had just been released. It was about theseterrorists who attack New York, but they used old-fashioned bombs and stuff, andnobodywanted towatch it.He lost all hismoney.Nobodywanted to see thatmovie,evenoncable.Myonebigchance,ruinedbyabunchofArabs.Idon’tthinkI’llevergetoverit.”

“Youmustbescarredforlife,”Helensaid.Taramissedthesarcasm.Shewasbackinfrontofthetriplemirror.“Maybe it’s this top,” she said. “It’s heinous. Itmakesme look fat.Doyou think it

makesmelookfat?Paulieboughtitformybirthday.Thepantsfitlikeadream,butthe

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minuteIputonthetop,Ithought,‘Thismakesmelookfat.’”“Youdon’tlookfat,”Helensaid.“Whatdoyouweigh?Ninety-eightpounds?”“Ninety-six,”Tarasaid.“See?Iamfat.I’vegainedtwopounds.Youcanseeit,too.”“Tara,Ineversaidthat.”But Tara would not be consoled. She was getting onHelen’s nerves.Helen wished

therewerecustomers todistract them.Itwas five-forty-five,anda last-minuterushwasunlikely.

EvenTaracouldseethatHelenwaseagertoleaveJuliana’s.“Yougoahead,”Tarasaid.“I’lllockup.”Helenleftgratefully,neverdreamingwhatwouldhappennext.

74

Chapter14

“Thiswineisnotbad,”Peggytheparrotladysaid.“Whatmonthisit?”Peggy and Helen were out by the pool after work, sipping wine and slapping

mosquitoes.Thesortofwinetheycouldafforddidnothaveavintageyear.“Notsure,”saidHelen.“Igotitinaboxatthedrugstore.Ithinkithasanexpiration

date,though.”Pete the parrot had his usual perch on Peggy’s shoulder. Helen reached out to pet

Pete’ssoftfeatherswithonefinger,andhenuzzledher.“He’salovebird,”Helensaid.“Speaking of love, there he is,” Peggy said. “Wouldn’t you love to go out with the

divineDaniel?”Daniel Dayson looked even better the second time around. He seemed built on a

different scale fromordinarymen.His legswere strong as cypress trees.His armswereropesofmuscle.Hislongblackhairrippledpasthisbroadshoulders.Helendidnotwanttorunherfingersthroughhishair.Shewantedtograbitandholdontightwhilehe...

“Hello,Helen,”Daniel said.His dark blue eyes seemed to bore holes into her. Shecouldfeelherwillpowerslowlyleakingaway.

“Hi,”Helensaid.Itwasthemostcoherentthingshe’dmanagedtosaytoDanielsincehe’dmovedin.Whatwasthematterwithher?Shewastoooldtobeactingthisway.

“Wouldyoulikeaglassofwine,Daniel?”Peggysaid.“It’safreshbox.”“No, thanks, Peggy. Some other time I’d love to, but I have a date.”Danielwaved

good-byeandwalkedbacktohisroom.Helenwatchedhismassiveglutesmoveunderthethinredfabricofhistinygymshorts.

“Hehasadateeverynight,”Peggysaid.“Sameluckygirl.Theyusuallywindupinhisroom.Ishouldknow.Iliverightnexttohim.Ineverhearasoundexcepthisbedsprings—and the moans. My lord, the way that woman carries on. He leaves a satisfiedcustomer.”

“Isthatwhyyouofferedhimafreshbox?”Helensaid.“Helen!”Peggysaid.PeggyandHelenstartedgigglingandcouldn’tstop.Theywerelaughingsohard,they

didn’thearCalcomeupbehindthem.ItwasthefirsttimeHelenhadseenhimsincethedisastrousCatfishDewey’sdate.NowHelenwonderedwhatshecouldhaveseeninCal.He seemedold andwizened, compared to themagnificentDaniel. She’dnevernoticedbeforethatCal’schestwasnarrow.Hislegs,whichshe’donceadmired,nowseemedtooskinny. And was he getting a bit of a dowager’s hump at his neck—or a permanent

75

slouch?“Iwasinthelaundryroom.Yourboyfriend’slaundryisdone,girls,”Calsaid,nastily.

“Whowantstofoldhisunderwear?”PeggywinkedatHelenandsaid,“Oh,me,me,it’smyturn.”Shemoaneddramatically

andfellbackwardintothechaise.Peteletoutastartled“Awwwk!”Calstompedoffwithoutaword.“Men!” Peggy said. “They’re all jealous.” That caused another fit of giggles. It was

brokenbyMargery,whoblewinlikeapurpletornado.“Helen,yougotanemergencycallfromthestoreonmyphone,”shesaid.“Ithinkit’s

serious.Firstoneofthoseyou’veeverhad.”“IsitChristina?”Helenasked,runningforMargery’sapartment.“No,someguy,”herlandladysaid.Margery’sphonewasontheTVtraynexttoherpurplerecliner.ThecallerwasPaulie,

Tara’sboyfriend.Hesoundedpanicked.“Helen? Is that you? Is itOK to call this number?Tara said you gave it to her for

emergencies.”“Idid,Paulie.What’swrong?”“Tarahasn’tcomehomeyet.It’snine-thirty.Juliana’sclosesatsix.Shecalledmeand

said shewas going to lockup, then stopoff at the supermarket. She shouldhavebeenhomebynow.Ifshewasgoinganywhereelse,shewouldhavetoldme.She’sverygoodaboutthat.Nooneisansweringthephoneatthestore,andhercellphoneisn’ton.I’vealready called the hospitals and checked with the police, and she’s not been in a caraccident. I’ll stayhere in case shegetshome.Couldyougoover to Juliana’s and see ifeverythingisOK?”

“Ofcourse,Paulie,”shesaid.“I’llleaverightnow.”Shehungupthephone.“I’llgowithyou,”Margerysaid.“No, stay here in case Paulie calls again.He’s a realworrywart.Tara probablywent

shoppingandlosttrackofthetime.”ButHelenstillrantothestore.Shedidn’tlikewhatshesawwhenshegotthere.The

lightswereon.Thealarmsystemwasnot.Shedidnot see the“armed” light.She triedJuliana’sgreendoor.Thebuzzerlockwason.Shepeekedinthewindowandsawclotheslyingonthefloor,achairupended,aboxofhangersoverturned.ShedidnotseeanysignofTara.

Helen’sheartwasbeatingfast.Shefelttimeslowdown.Tara!Oh,myGod.Wherewasshe? Had she been kidnapped? Killed? Helen unlocked the green door and ran insidecalling,“Tara!Tara!Whereareyou?”Sheheardamoancomingfromadressingroom.

Helenthrewopenthedressingroomdoor.Tarawas lyingonthe floor.Her topwasrippeddownthefront.Anastybumponherforeheadwasrapidlyturningpurple.Therewasasmallredsmearofbloodonherforehead.Taragroanedandtriedtositup,thenfellback on the carpet as a single drop of blood slid down her face. Her long black hairfannedaroundher.

“Tara!”Helenkneltdownbesideher.“Tara!Whathappened?Whodidthistoyou?”“Twomen,”shesaid,hervoicebarelyawhisper.“Theyforcedtheirwayin.Theyhurt

me.”

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“Didthey...”Helenforcedherselftosaytheword.“Didtheyrapeyou?”“No,”Tarasaid.“Theyhitme—rammedmyheadintothewall.”“Oh,Tara,oh,no,I’msosorry.Ishouldhaveneverleftyouherealone.Don’tmove.

I’llcallthepoliceandgetanambulance.”“No!”Tarasaid,grippingherarm.Shereallyseemedafraidnow.“They’llcomeback

andhurtme.”“That’swhyweneedthepolice.”“Nooooo,”Tarawailed,tryingtositupagain.“Please,justcallPaulie.”“Pauliewouldwantme tocall thepolice, too,”Helen said, firmly. “You stay there.”

Sherantothephoneoutsidethedressingroom,dialed911,thentoldtheoperatorwhathappened.

“Havetheintrudersleftthebuilding?Isanyoneelseinthestore?”“Idon’tknow,”Helensaid.“IjustraninwhenIsawthelightsonandfoundTaraand

calledyou.Icouldlookaround.”“Stayrightthere,ma’am,”the911operatorsaid.“Don’thangup.Keeptalkingtome.

We’llhavesomeonethereinamoment.”Helencouldhearsirens,thenthescreechoftires.Twopatrolcarspulledupinfrontof

thestore,andHelenranupfronttolettheminside.Thetwoofficerslookedenoughaliketobetwins.Bothwereaboutsixfeettallwithshortdarkhairandopenboyishfaces,untilyou saw their eyes. They had hawk’s eyes, alert and watchful. They walked likegunslingers.Helen found that comforting.Onehad aname tag that saidT.Gerritsen.TheotheronewasJ.MacWilliams.

The twoofficersaskedHelen towaitoutsideby thedoor. “ButTara’s in there,” shesaid.

“Weknowthat,ma’am.Weneedtocheckthingsfirst,”Gerritsensaid.ThetwoofficerswentinsideJuliana’s,gunsdrawn.Noonehadeverenteredthefabled

greendoorthatway,althoughafewwomenmusthavethoughtaboutit.Whileshewaited,Helenkeptberatingherself.SheshouldhavestayedwithTarauntil

closing.Instead,sheletherselfgetirritatedbyTara’ssilliness.Whatkindofmanagerwasshe?Shecouldn’tevenstayanotherfifteenminutestomakesureTaraleftthestoresafely.Ifanythinghappenedtoher,Helenwouldhavetwodeathsonherhands—DesireeEasleeandTara.

She was wringing her guilty hands when Officer Gerritsen reappeared. “Theparamedicsareontheirway.They’llcheckherout.”

HelensawTarasittingontheloveseat,talkingtotheotherofficer,MacWilliams.Shewantedtosinkdownonthecarpetandcrywithrelief.

“CanIseeTara?”“Inalittlebit,”Gerritsensaid.“We’retalkingtohernow.Doyouhavetheboyfriend’s

phonenumber?”“Yes,sure.Ishouldhavecalledhim.I’lldothatnow.”“We’ll do that,” the officer said. “We need you to see if anything is missing or

damaged.Don’ttouchanything.Justseeifyoucantell.”Helenwalkedaroundthestore,steppingcarefullytoavoidtheclothesscatteredonthe

carpet. There weren’t as many as she first thought. Six blouses were pulled off their

77

padded hangers. A few belts were tossed around, along with an Hermes scarf and aVersaceeveningdress.Achairwasoverturned,andaboxofhangerswas spilledon thefloor. But nothing was damaged. Even the money was still in the register, about fivehundreddollars.

HelentoldOfficerGerritsenthatnothingwasmissingupfront,noteventhecashintheregister.“ButI’dbettercheckthestockroom,justincase.”

Beforeshecoulddothat,theparamedicsarrived.TheygaveTaraanicepacktoputonherforeheadandurgedhertogototheemergencyroomorseeherfamilydoctor.Tararefused.Shesignedareleaseform,andtheparamedicsleft.

Helenwasshockedbyherappearance.ThebumponTara’sforeheadhadswollenintoapurpleknotwithgreenhighlights.Hersnakeskintopwasnearlytornintwoandshewasmissingoneshoe.ButTaraseemedalertandotherwiseunhurt.

The police still would not letHelen talk with Tara. She went to the stockroom tofinish the requestedcheck.Everything lookedundisturbed.Theonlyodd thingwasonthesecuritypanel.Thestore’s interiorcamerashadbeenturnedoff.Helenwondered ifsheorTarahadhitthewrongbuttonandaccidentallyshutthemoff.

Helen could hear the police questioning Tara. She was telling her story for whatsounded like the secondor third time.Helenedged to thedoor andpeekedout at thescene.

“Iwas getting ready to close,”Tara said. “Itwas almost six o’clock.That’swhenweclose.IwasherealonebecauseHelenwenthomeearly.”

Helenwinced.“Twoblackmenforcedtheirwayintothestore.Theybothhadguns.”“Whatdidtheylooklike?”OfficerMacWilliamssaid.Tara pulled her long hair forward until it hid her face. “Oneman was tall, sort of

husky,muscular. I told you that.Onewas skinny and short, almost as short asme. Icouldn’tseetheirfaces.Theywerewearingskimasksandgloves.”

InSouthFlorida?Helenwondered.NooneonwhitebreadLasOlasnoticedtwoblackmendressedlikethis?

“Howdidtheygetin?”MacWilliamsasked.Goodquestion.Tarawouldhavehadtobuzzthemin.“Theyknockedonthedoorandsortofpushedtheirwayin,”Tarasaid,vaguely.“I’m

not really sure. I guess I panicked when I saw the guns. They ran inside and startedthrowing things around.They kept askingme, ‘Where is it?’ I didn’t knowwhat theyweretakingabout.”

“Didyouseethemtakeanything,ma’am?”“No,”shesaid.“Whataboutthemoneyinthecashregister?Iunderstandthere’saconsiderablesumin

there.”“Ididn’tgetachancetocountitandputitinthesafe,”shesaid.“Ithinktheshortone

was going to the cash register when the tall one started hittingme.He hitme in thehead.”

“Ithoughtyousaidhepushedyourheadintothewall,”MacWilliamssaid.“Hedid that, too,”Tara said,pullingherhair forward tohidemoreofher face.All

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Helensawnowwasablackcurtainofhair.“I’msorry.I’mnotmakingsense.Myheadhurts.”

“Justafewmorequestions,ma’am.Whenthetallmangrabbedyou,whatdidyoudo?”“Ifoughtwithhim,ofcourse.That’showmyblousegottorn.”HelensawthatonlyTara’stopwasripped,theonethatshethoughtmadeherlookfat.

Thepantsthatfitlikeadreamwerefine.“Your nails are pretty long. Did you scratch his face? Sometimes we can get the

suspect’sDNAfromskinunderthevictim’snails.”Taraheldoutherhands.Her long fragile fakenailswereunbroken.Taramusthave

realizedshedidn’tlooklikeshe’dputupafight,becauseshesaid,“Therewasn’tmuchIcoulddo.Hewasbiggerthanme.”

“Whattimedoyouthinkitwaswhenthetallmanhityou?”theofficersaid.“Alittleaftersix,”shesaid.“That’saguess.Iwasn’tkeepingtrackofthetime.Hehit

me,andIheardsomeonerattlingthedoorhandle,andthenbothmenranouttheback,andIpassedout.”

“Andyou’vebeenunconsciousforoverthreeandahalfhours?”“Yes,”shesaid.“ImayhaveawakenedonceortwicebutIdidn’treallycometountil

Helenfoundme.”“Thebloodonyourforeheadisfresh,ma’am.You’dthinkafterthreeandahalfhours,

itwouldhavedried.”Tarastartedcrying.“Youdon’tbelieveme,”shesaid.“Ididn’tsaythat,ma’am,”MacWilliamssaid.“Now,yousaythatyourstore’ssecurity

systemwasn’tonyet,andyoursecuritycameraswerenotworking.Butthejewelrystorenearyouhasasecuritycamera.Maybeitcaughtthetwomenastheywalkedbythere.”

ThelittlebitofTaravisiblebehindthecurtainofhairseemedtogrowpaler.“No,”shesaid.“Idon’tthinktheywalkedbythejewelrystore.Ithinktheygotoutofa

cabinfrontofthisstore.”“Acab,”theofficersaid.“That’sgood.Cabskeeprecords.”“Ormaybeitwasn’tacab,”Tarasaidquickly.“No,Iwaswrong.Itwasaregularcar.A

whitecar.Likethosewhitecabs,exceptthiscardidn’thavetheyellowstripethewaythecabsdo.”

She’slying,Helenthought.EvenIcantellshe’slying.“Didyouseethedriver?”MacWilliamsasked.ButbeforeTaracouldlieagain,Paulie’s

angryvoicethunderedthroughthestore.“Whatthehelldoyoumean,whydidIwaitalmostthreehourstocallsomeone?Are

you questioning me? Me? I been worried sick. Tara told me she was going to thesupermarket. She shouldhavebeenhome about seven, seven-thirty at the latest.Whenshe didn’t comehome, I called the hospitals and the police, afraid she’d been in a caraccident. Then I called Helen. Why didn’t I just drive over here? Because we live infriggin’CoralSprings.Itwouldtakeforty-fivemintuestogethere.Now,doIhavetocallmylawyer,orareyougonnaletusoutofthisplace?”Tara lookedup,andherhair fellbacktorevealabruisedbuthopefulface.

“Doyouwanttomakeaswornstatementnow?”theofficeraskedTara.“No,”Tarasaid,andputdowntheblackcurtainofhairagain.“I’mtoosick.”

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“You’ve badgered this poor girl enough,” Paulie said, outraged.He stomped angrilybacktowardtheblacksilk-satinloveseats.Hisgutbulgedoutofanavygolfshirttwosizestoosmall,butforthefirsttime,HelenlikedPaulie.

The officer ignoredhim and said toTara, “Youwill prosecute thesemen ifwe findthem.”

“Damnrightshewill,”Pauliesaid.“Butyoujerkoffscouldn’tfindyourasswithbothhands.Idon’tthinkyou’lleverfindthem.”

Helendidn’t thinkthepolicewould findthe twomen,either—because theydidnotexist.

“She’snotcomingbackhere tomorrow,”Paulie said.HescoopedTara intohisarmsandcarriedheroutthedoor.Tara’slonghairhungdown,adarkflagofsurrender.

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Chapter15

“Tara’swholestoryisphoneyasaSouthBeachboobjob,”Margerysaid.“Iwasgoingtosaythree-dollarbill,”Peggysaid.“Eitherway,it’safake.”Helen feltbetter.Onthewalkhome fromJuliana’s, shehadbegun todoubtherself.

WhatiftwomenreallyhadforcedtheirwayintoJuliana’s?WhatiftheywereconnectedwithChristinaandherdrugs?

WhenHelen got home to theCoronado apartments, it was after eleven. A worriedPeggy andMargerywerewaiting for her by the pool.Helen felt so drained, she couldhardlywalkacrossthelawntotalktothem.

“Youlookterrible,”Margerysaid.“Whathappened?AreyouOK?IsTaraOK?”“Tarawasattackedbytwomen.Atleast,Ithinkshewas,”Helensaid.“It’sallmyfault.

Ishouldhaveneverleftheralone.”TheymadeHelen sit down and drink tea and eat dark chocolate. “You need sugar

whenyou’restressed,”Margerysaid.MargerygaveheraGodivadarkchocolatebar.PeggybroughtoveraboxofThinMint

GirlScoutcookiesshekeptinthefreezer.HelenatetheGodivabarinfourbites.AhalfdozenThinMintsdisappearedoffherplate,soshemusthaveeatenthose,too.

Afterthatjoltofcaffeine,shehadenoughenergytotalkaboutwhathappenedinfulldetail.MargeryandPeggywereasskepticalasthepolicewhentheyheardthestory,andthatreassuredHelen.

“She’slying,”Peggysaidflatly.Pete,sittingonhershoulder,squawkedhisagreement.“TwoblackmeninglovesandskimasksonLasOlas?”Margerysaid.“Theymightas

wellshowupinthatgetupataKlanrally.Evencrackheadsaren’tthatnuts.”“IknowSouthFloridaisfullofcrazycriminals,”Helensaid,“butIcan’tbelievetwo

men would force their way into Juliana’s and not take any money. There was fivehundreddollars cash in the register.Andwhy rob adress shop,when there are jewelrystoresonthesamestreet?”

“NothingismissingatJuliana’s,right?”Margerysaid.“Notsomuchasascarf,”Helensaid.“Andourinternalsecuritycameraswereturned

off.”“SoundslikeTarafakedarobbery,”Peggysaid.“But why do that, if nothing ismissing?Did Tara want the attention?Or was she

tryingtohidesomething?”Helensaid.“Hmmm,”Margerysaid,chewingthoughtfullyonaThinMint.“Iwonderifshewas

seeinga lover,andthetimegotawayfromher.Shecouldn’texplainherabsencetoher

81

boyfriend,Paulie,soshestagedtherobberyandblamedthosefavoritefantasyculprits,thetwoblackmen.”

“Maybeshejustwantedridofthatuglysnakeskintop,”Peggysaid.Helen laughed. “Listen, I’m exhausted. Thanks for waiting up for me and for the

chocolate.Ihavetogotoworkinthemorning.I’dbetter...”Shestoppeddead.A luminousorangebra and stilettoheelswere floating toward them in thedarkness.

The threewomen stared in awestruck silence at the approachingbra like itwas a 38DUFO.

As it got closer, they saw the glow-in-the-dark bra and heelswereworn by a youngwoman.Shehadonathongswimsuit,exceptthelowerpartdidn’tglow.Thewomanhadyardsofbrownhair,buthersuitwasspectacularlysmall.ShelookedlikeWonderWomaninanorangethong.Helenhadneverseenanybreasts,realorfake,jutoutlikethat.

“Excuseme,”theglowingyoungwomansaid.“DoanyofyoudriveagreenKia?”“Ido,”Peggysaid.“I’mstayingatDanny’s,andI’mblockedin.Couldyoumoveyourcar?Ihavetobeat

workatmidnight.Oh,isthatyourcutelittlebirdie?”PetemadeasweetchirpingsoundthatHelenhadneverheardbefore.“I’llbegladtomovemycar,”Peggytoldher.“Comealong,traitor,”shesaidtoPete.When they left,Margery said, “That’sDaniel’s girlfriend.Thatmanneeds to find a

nicegirl.He’sdatingastripper.”“Areyousure?”Helensaid.“Whatdoyouthinksheis,dressedlikethatandgoingtoworkatmidnight?Anurse?”“I’mbeat.I’mnotthinkingatall,”Helensaid.“Goodnight,Margery.Thanksagain.”Helenheadedtoherplace,whichsuddenlyseemedfaraway.Shewadedthroughthe

thickfogofpotsmokeswirlingaroundPhil’sdoor,thenopenedherownapartment.Itsfamiliarsmelloftropicalmoldandtrappedheatfeltlikehome.

Shewas exhausted but jittery from the caffeine in the tea and the chocolate.Helenfinally fell into a restless sleep, still worrying about Tara and the strange events atJuliana’s.

Helenwasawakenedbythesoundofakeyinthelock.Wassomeoneopeningherdoor?shewonderedgroggily.

Shewilledherselfalert.Wait.Thatwasn’therdoor.ItwasherneighborPhil’sdoor.Phil!Hereallydidexist.Helenscrambledoutofbed,determinedtofinallyseetheinvisible

pothead.Shedidn’tbotherthrowingonarobeoverherT-shirt.Sheranbarefootacrossthe cool terrazzo floor and flung open her front door, blinking at the brightmorninglight.

Helenwastoolate.AllshesawwastwobrownplasticgrocerybagsdisappearingintoPhil’splace.Nothingelse.ShedidnotevengetaglimpseofPhil’shand.Onebagseemedtobefilledwithanonymouscannedgoods.TheothercontainedthebiggestbagofOreocookiesincaptivity.

“Niceshirt,”drawledaman’svoice.ItwasDaniel.“IsthatElviswithanAmericanflag?Verypatriotic.”

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Helenblushed.Thensherealizedshewasn’twearinganyunderwearandblushedmore.TheT-shirtwaslongenoughtocoverthevitalareas,butshewasstandingbarefootandpantielessinfrontofthemostgorgeousmaninSouthFlorida.

Naturally, he had to be dressed. Daniel was wearing a perfectly tailored navy blueuniformwithofficial-lookingredpatchesonhisbulgingbiceps.Helenthoughthelookedevenbetterinhisuniformthanhedidinhisgymshorts.

“Niceuniform,”shesaid.Anewrecord.Nowshe’dsaidtwocoherentwordstoDaniel.“Thanks,”hesaid.“I’mofftowork.Seeyoulater.”Danielwasworkingonasunnyday,Helenthought,whenmanysinglemenwouldbe

heading for the beach or the bar. But Daniel was different from your average SouthFloridasingleman.Hehadambition.

She glanced at the kitchen clock. It was only seven-thirty. She didn’t have to go toworkyet.Shewentback toher lumpybed. It squeaked loudly,but it squeaked forheralone.

Danielisperfect,shethought.Absolutelyperfect.Toobadhealreadyhadtheperfectgirlfriend.HelenrememberedWonderWomanin

theglow-in-the-darkbraandsighed.Ican’tcompetewithawomanwholookslikethat,shethought.Theperfectmanisone

flightup,andhemightaswellbeathousandmilesaway.No,athousandmileswouldbebetter.ThenIwouldn’tknowheexisted.Daniel ishandsome,hardworking,andpolite.He’stoogoodtobereal,exceptheis.Idon’thaveachancewiththatman.

ButHelen’smindwouldnotstayonthedivineDaniel.Shewasfilledwithanamelessdread.Itgrewlargerandlargerandwouldnotgoaway,notevenatwork.Nothingbadhappened at Juliana’s. In fact,Thursday passed swiftly andpleasantlywith her favoritecustomers,andthecashregisterrangmerrily.

ButHelenwasafraid,andshedidnotknowwhy.Thefeargrewallday,sittingonherspiritlikesomedarkunnamedmonster.

ByThursdaynight,thefearhadaname:Christina.DidChristinareallyarrangeDesiree’sdeath?Helenhadtoknow.Shecouldnotwork

for a murderer. She would mention Desiree’s death first thing Friday when she cameback.ShecouldtellbyChristina’sreactionifshewasguilty.

IfChristinareallykilledDesiree,thenshewouldquitonthespotandgotothepolice.Unlessquittingwouldgetherkilled,too.MaybesheshouldcontinueworkingthereuntilthepolicearrestedChristina.

Whichwasmoredangerous:stayingorquitting?Helendidn’tknow.All she knew for sure was Christina would be back tomorrow, and with her would

comechaos.

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Chapter16

Helenhaddreadedthismorningforawholeweek.ItwasthedayChristinacamebacktowork.

Thensomethingworsehappened:Christinadidnotshowup.Helen opened the store by herself at nine-thirty. Christina is caught in the Third

Avenue Bridge traffic, Helen told herself. She had been held up as much as twentyminutesbythatblasteddrawbridge.NothingmadeHelenfeelmorelikeawageslavethansittingintrafficwaitingforsomebillionaire’shundred-footyachttosailundertheliftedbridge.

At ten a.m.,Helendecided thatChristina hadbeendelayed in an accident on I-95.Thehighwaywasnotoriousforbaddriving.Everyoneonitwaseithereightygoingtwentyortwentygoingeighty.Sheturnedonthestockroomradioandlistenedtothenewsandtraffic.Noaccidents.

At ten-thirty she realizedChristina had overslept. She had turned off the alarm andgonebacktosleep.HelencalledChristina’shomephone.Itrangandranginthatechoeywaythathappensonlyinanemptyhome.HelencalledChristina’scellphone.Shegotageneric recording:“Thesubscriberyouhavecalleddoesnotanswer.Please tryyourcallagain.MessageDH124.”

Ateleveno’clock, shecalled the store’sCanadianowner,GilbertRoget.Hegavehersomesensibleadvice.

“Are you there alone, Helen? Then stay at the store until six and close up. Go byChristina’splacetonight,andseeifshe’ssick.Ifnooneanswers,callthepoliceandreporthermissing.Andgetthatgirl,what’shername,Tara,backworkingattheshop.”

Helenhaddownplayed the trumped-up robbery toMr.Roget.He’d shrugged itoff.He thought America was a violent place, anyway. No damage was done, nothing wastaken.Itwasnobigdeal.

Helen hoped Tara would return. Actually, she hoped she wouldn’t need Tara.Suddenly,shewantedChristinaback.HelenwantedeverythingtobethewayitwaswhenshefirststartedworkingatJuliana’s.Butsheknewthatwasnotpossible.

“Mr.Roget,I’llbegladtocheckonChristina,butIdon’thaveacar.”“Thentakeabus,”GilbertRogetsaid.“I’llreimburseyouforthefare.”You’re all heart,Helen thought.Christina lived somewhere in Sunnysea. A bus ride

wouldtakemostofherevening.ButshewastooworriedaboutChristinatoarguewiththepenny-pinchingstoreowner.

“DoyouknowChristina’saddress?”

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“No,butmysecretarydoes.I’llhavehercallyouback.”ThesecretarysaidChristinalivedatOneOceanPalmTowersinSunnyseaBeach.“Areyousure?”Helensaid,surprised.“Yes,in2200P.That’sthepenthouse.”The penthouse? Those started at two million dollars. Any high-priced high-rise in

SouthFloridahadtohaveoneofthesewordsinitsname:One,Ocean,Palm,orTowers.Whenthefirstexpensivehigh-risewasbuiltonSunnyseaBeach,thedevelopersusedallfourofthemagicwords.TheyneededthemtocombatSunnysea’sdown-at-heelsimage.The funky little beach townwasmostly 1950smotels,T-shirt shops, bars, and offbeatbeachhouses.OneOceanPalmTowerswasthefirstgrandhigh-risecondodevelopmentinSunnysea.Thosewholovedthelittlebeachtownwereafraiditwouldnotbethelast.

After she lockedup for theday,Helenwalkedhome.She foundPeggyandPete theparrotintheirusualafter-workspotbythepool.

“I’llbegladtodriveyoutoChristina’s,”Peggysaid.“I’vewantedtogetacloserlookatOneOceanPalmTowers, anyway.That’swherePete and Iwillmovewhen Iwin thelottery.”

Helennoticed thatPeggy said“when” shewon—not“if.”Petewentback toPeggy’sapartmentwithan indignant squawk.ThenPeggyandHelenpiled into the littlegreenKia.

Christina’s place was twenty minutes and several million dollars away from theCoronado. The marble sign announcing One Ocean Palm Towers was bigger thanHelen’sapartment. Itwas surroundedbya forestofpalmtreesandpriceyplants.Theydrovepastafountainthesizeofaswimmingpool,pushinguparegalplumeofwater.

“Howdoesthemanagerofadressshoplivehere?”Peggysaid.“Goodquestion,”Helensaid.“Christinaonlymakesaroundeighteenthousandayear.”“Thislookslikeaboutahundredyears,”Peggysaid.“Onehundredelevenandchange,”Helensaid.Shehadn’tcompletelylosthernumber-

crunching skills. “Christina also makes a commission, but that wouldn’t cover themonthlymaintenancefeesonthisplace.”

“MaybeChristinainheritedsomemoney,”Peggysaid.“Inthatcase,whyworkatJuliana’satall?”Attheentrance,PeggystartedtoparkthelittlegreenKiabetweenavintageJaguarand

asilverMercedeswhenadoormancamerunningout.Hedirectedheraroundthebacktotheserviceparking.TheKiawoundupnexttoaplumber’svan.

Eventhebackparkinglothadastunningviewoftheocean.PeggyandHelenwatchedthewildwavescrashontheprivatebeachforamoment.ChristinacouldnotaffordthisoceanviewevenifsheskimmedathousanddollarsaweekfromJuliana’s,Helenthought.Ifshewasarrangingmurdersforhireatthreethousandeach,she’dstillhavetowipeouthalfofBrowardCounty.WhatelsehadChristinabeenupto?

Nothinggood,Helendecided.The magnificent marble front with its vigilant doorman was for show. The service

entrancedoorwasproppedopenwithabrick.TwoHispanicmeninkhakistoodoutsideit,smoking.TheynoddedpolitelywhenHelenandPeggywalkedpastthemintothebackentrance.Thedecorwasgrimycinderblocksandunpaintedconcrete.

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“The bucks stop here,” Peggy said. “Want to take the service elevator to thepenthouse?”

“Let’sgoaroundtothefrontentranceandseeifwecantalktoareceptionist,”Helensaid.“Maybehe’llknowwhenChristinaissupposedtoreturn.”

ThedoormanlookedatPeggy’sflip-flopsandcutoffsthesamewayhe’dviewedhercar.Fortunately,Helenwas still wearing herUngaro suit.He let thewomen approach thereceptiondesk.

Thelobbywasslickwithshinypolishedmarble.Helenfeltlikeshewaswalkingacrossaskatingrink.Themanagerondutywasapaleblondcreatureinablacksuit.HelenwasnotsurprisedthathisnametagsaidMr.White.Helookeddownhisnoseatherandsaid,“MissChristinaleftnospecialinstructionswithusastowhensheexpectedtoreturnfromhervacation.”

“She toldme she’d be back at work today, and she didn’t show up. I’m concernedabouther.SoistheownerofJuliana’s,Mr.Roget.”Helenhopeddroppingarichman’snamewouldhelphergettakenseriously.

“Iunderstandyourconcern,madam,”Mr.Whitesaid,“butIcannotopenherdoor.”“Canyouletusgoupandatleastringherdoorbell?Whatifshe’ssickandneedshelp?”“EachOneOceanPalmTowersunitisequippedwithasecuritysystemandhasapanic

button in every room, including the lavatories,” Mr. White said. “If Miss Christinaneededpersonalaid,shewouldcontactus.However,tosetyourmindatease,Iwillgoupwithyouandringherdoorbell.”

Theelevatorwaspaneledlikealawyer’soffice.Theyrodetothetwenty-secondfloorinsilence.Thedoorsopenedonadramaticviewoftheocean,greenandturquoiseuntil itfadedintothedarkereveningsky.

“Wow!”HelenandPeggy said together.Mr.White’snostrilspinched indisapproval.Peoplewhowenttothetwenty-secondfloorwerenotsupposedtobesoeasilyimpressed.They stopped in front ofwhite-paneled double doorswith a discreet brass plaque thatread“2200.”

“Well,therearenonewspaperspileduponherdoorstep,”Helensaid.Mr. White looked scandalized. “We would not permit that,” he said. He solemnly

pressed thedoorbell, and theyheard the chime echo through the apartment.But therewerenofootsteps.

“Ringitagain,”Helensaid.Mr.Whitedid.Again,therewasnothingbutthesoundofchimes.ThenHelenthoughtofThumbs,thecatChristinalovedsofiercely.

“Doyouknowwhathappenedtohercat?”sheasked.“I’msureshemadeprivatearrangementsforthecareofheranimal,”Mr.Whitesaid.

“Now,ifyou’requitefinished.”Therewasnothingtheycoulddobuttaketheelevatordowntothevastmarblelobby

andwalkbackouttoPeggy’slittlecar.“Idon’tlikethis,”Peggysaid.“Meeither,”Helensaid.“Christinahasnevermissedadayofworkinher life.Ifshe

isn’tthere,then...”Helenstopped,afraidtogoon.“She’sdead?”Peggyfinished.“Well,something’sverywrong,”Helensaid,unwillingtojumptothatconclusionyet.

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“Mr.RogetsaidifIdidn’tfindherathome,Ishouldfileamissingpersonreport.”She reportedChristinamissing to a bored SunnyseaBeach cop.He toldHelen that

Christinawasanadultandcouldcomeandgoas shepleased.ThepolicecouldnotdoanythinguntilChristinahadbeenmissingatleastforty-eighthours.

“Butshewasduebacktoday,andshemissedwork,”Helensaid.“Wassheknowntobedepressed?”theofficerasked.“No,Christinawaslookingforwardtohervacation.”“Was she in the process of a messy divorce, or did she have arguments with her

spouse?”“Shewassingle,”Helensaid.“IthoughtIsaidthat.Herboyfriendjustbrokeupwith

her,buthedidn’tthreatenheroranything.”“Hehaveanyhistoryofpriorphysicalassaults?”“Joe?No!”“Hasthesubjecteverextendedavacationbefore?”“No,”Helensaid.Thecopdronedon.“Didshemakeherreturnflight?Didshe,forthatmatter,make

herflightout?”“Idon’tknowifshewasflyinganywhere,”Helensaid.“Wherewasshegoingonhervacation?”“Idon’tknow,”Helensaid,feelingfoolish.“AllIknowisthatChristinawaseagerto

leave.”“Thenmaybe,ma’am,shewasn’teagertocomeback.”

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Chapter17

Another restless, sleeplessnight.Helen’s lumpybedseemedtobe stuffedwithcabbagesand bowling balls. Any attempt to find amore comfortable position set off a series oflonelysqueaks.

Atsevena.m.,Helengaveupandgotup.Shetoldherselfshewasgettingupanhourearlybecauseshewantedbreakfastbythepool.Butsheknewwhatshereallywanted:toseeDanielinhisdashingblueuniform.

Helen feltguilty thinkingaboutDanielDayson.Christinawasmissing,maybedead,andshewascarryingonaschool-girlcrush.ButIcan’tspendallmytimeworryingaboutChristina,shetoldherself.

Adisapprovinginnervoicelecturedher:“Didn’tRobandCalteachyouanything?Youknowyouhaveterribletasteinmen.”

ButCalwasaharmlessmistake,thekindawomanmadewhenshejumpedbackintothedatingpool.Shedidn’tsleepwithhimoranything.Shelostalittlemoney,that’sall.AndRob?ThepainofRob’sbetrayalseemedtoberecedingintheFebruarysunshine.Itwas winter in St. Louis, and it was easy for her heart to stay frozen there. But SouthFloridawassolushandromanticandmostofall,warm,thatthingsseemedpossible.

Helendressedcarefully,spendingextratimeonherhairandmakeup.Thenshepouredherselfacupofcoffee.Itwasquartertoeightwhenshewentoutside.MargeryandPeggywereatthepicnictableunderthecoconutpalms.

“Youlooknicethismorning,”Peggysaid,lookingupfromherpaper.“He’salreadyleftforwork,”Margerysaid.Helenflushed.Howdidherlandladyknow?“Danielisalwaysgonebyseven-thirty,”Margerysaid.Hershortssetwascoveredwith

purplebutterflies.Margerypointedtoawhitebakeryboxandastackofpapernapkinsonthepicnictable.“Wantachocolatecroissant?”

Helendid.Peggytookanother.Peggywasdressedforherreceptionist’sjobinaparrot-greenpantsuit.Shelookedlike

anexoticbirdorPete’sbigsister.Thewildparrotswerescreechinginthepalmsoverhead,tauntingPete.He ignoredthem.Petehadno interest inhiskind, justasPeggyhadnointerestinthemalespecies.Theywerecontentwitheachother.

Peggypointedtohermorningpaper.“AguyinHallandalewonthelottery,”shesaid.“Twenty-threemilliondollars.He’sthirtyyearsold,andhe’llneverhavetoworkagain.He’sgoingtotakethewholethinginalumpsum,sohe’llgetabouthalf,somethingliketwelvemillion.”

“Whywouldhedothat?”Margerysaid.“Whynot take thepayoutover thirtyyears?

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He’llgetthewholetwenty-threemillion,plusinterest.It’smoremoneythatway.Icouldunderstandsomeonemyagetakingitinalump,buthe’sayoungguy.”

“No,hediditright,”Peggysaid.“Alltheexpertssaythefiguresworkoutinyourfavorifyoutakeitinalumpsumandinvestit.That’showI’mgoingtodoitwhenIwin.”

Shewasserious,Helenthought.“Whichlotterygamedoyouplay?”sheasked.“Lotto.Ithasthebigjackpots.”“Howmanyticketsdoyoubuyeachweek?”Helensaid.“Threeaday.Twenty-onedollarsaweek.”Helenwhistled.“That’snotmuch,”Peggysaid.“There’saguywhocomesintothestoreandbuyssixty

dollarsinticketseveryweek,andthosearenothingbutscratch-offs.”“Ifyouinvestedthatmoney,you’dhavesomething,”Margerysaid.“If Iwin the lottery, I’ll reallyhave something,”Peggy said. “Think about it.A guy

rightinHallandalewontwenty-threemillion.Thegoodluckisgettingcloser.Lookatthesmileonthatman’sface.That’sthesamesmileyou’regoingtoseeonmine.”

ShepassedHelenthepaper.ButHelennevergottothephotoofthegrinningwinner.Shewasdistractedbytheheadlineontheoppositepage:“BodyofUnidentifiedWomanFoundinBarrelinBiscayneBay.”

Thestorybegan,“MiamiPalmspoliceareseekinginformationtoidentifythebodyofawoman found dead in a barrel inBiscayneBay.The barrelwas pulled from thewateryesterdayby...”

Helen could hear Peggy andMargery saying, “Helen,what’swrong?Helen, are youOK?”butshecouldn’tstopreading.Thestorycontinued:

“Thewomanwasbetweenthirtyandfortyyearsold,withshoulder-lengthblondehair,and was wearing a black pants suit, a police spokesperson said. The deceased wasdescribed as being of slight build and about five foot three inches tall. Police said thewoman is believed tohavebeendead about aweek.Thedeceaseddied as the result ofblunttrauma,sourcessaid.Personswithinformationshouldcontact...”

Thepageblurred.“Oh,myGod,it’sChristina,”Helensaid.“She’sdead.It’srighthereinthepaper.”

“Where?”Margerysaid,grabbingthepaper.Helenpointedtothearticlewithashakyfinger.Margeryreaditandsaid,“Thedeadwomanwassmall,skinny,andblonde.ThatdescriptionwouldfithalfthewomeninSouthFlorida.”

ButHelenwashavingtroublebreathing.“No,it’sher.Iknowit.It’shorrible.Shewasbeaten todeath.That’swhat ‘blunt trauma’means.There’s anumber tocall.Margery,canIuseyourphone?”

“Sure,dear,”Margerysaid.ThelandladyputanarmaroundHelen’swaistandhelpedhertoherapartment,asifHelenwereaninvalid.“Now,calmdown.Don’tgetsoupset.Ifshe’sreallydead,ithappenedawhileago,andthere’snothingyoucandoaboutit.Takesome deep breaths. There. Feel better? You don’t know anything for sure yet. It stillmightbesomeoneelse.LotsofwomenwearblackinSouthFlorida.”

ButHelenknewitwasChristina.ShesatdowninMargery’scomfortingpurplereclinerandhadasuddenoverpoweringdesiretofallasleep,butsheknewshe’dhavenorestuntilshemadethatcall.Herhandsshooksobadly,Margeryhadtodialthenumberforher.

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TheMiamiPalmsofficer soundedmoreprofessional than theboredSunnyseaBeachpoliceman.HernamewasSweeney,shesaid.

HelentoldOfficerSweeneyaboutChristinanotshowingupforwork.SweeneyaskedmanyofthesamequestionsastheSunnyseamissingpersonsofficer.Helenhadthesameembarrassingly vague answers.Howcould shenot knowwhereChristinawas goingonvacation?sheaskedherself.BecauseChristinadidnotwanttosay.AndIdidnotwanttoknow.

“Whatwasthesubjectwearingwhenyoulastsawher?”Sweeneyasked.“Ablackpantsuitwithalongslinkyjacket,”Helensaid.“Doyouknowthebrandname?”“Ferragamo,”Helensaid.“I’msureitwasaFerragamo.Itwasnew.”Officer Sweeney tried to keep her voice neutral, but Helen thought she heard a

heightened interest. She askedHelen severalquestions about the suit’sdetails,down tothebuttons.

“Theywereblackwithagoldcenter,”Helensaid.“Verydistinctive.”“Wouldyoubeabletoidentifythem?”“Definitely,”Helensaid.Then Officer Sweeney asked if Christina had any distinguishing physical

characteristics,“somethingthatcouldhelpuswiththeidentification.”What made Christina different from any other underfed blonde in South Florida?

Helenwondered.“Well,shehadherlipsinjectedwithcollagen.”“OK,” Sweeney said, and Helen knew that was no help. Everyone got their lips

enlargedthesedays.“And, wait, she just had some biopolymer injections in her face. The illegal ones.

Somethingwentwrong,andherrightcheekisveryswollen.It’sreallybig,aboutthesizeofagrapefruithalf.”

“Um, that’s not going tohelpus in, uh, under the current circumstances,” Sweeneysaid,andHelen’sstomachlurched.SherealizedthatelegantChristinawasgoneforever.DidthedeadChristinaknowshelookedlikesomethinginahorrormovienow?Howshewouldhatethat.Wasthatpartofherpunishment?Goodlord,Isoundlikemymother,Helenthought,andmadeherselflistentoSweeneyagain.

“. . .We’retryingtomakeanIDonthebody,”sheheardSweeneysay.“Wouldyouknowthenameofherdentist?”

“I’m not sure she has one,” Helen said. “She told me once that she was afraid ofdentists.”

“What about any surgical procedures? Any recent biopsies? Any blood she wasstockpilingpriortoaplannedsurgery?”

“She’sprettyhealthy,”Helensaid.“Idon’tthinkshe’severhadanyoperations,exceptforbreastimplants.ButIguesstheydon’tcount.Everyonearoundherehasthose,right?”

“Actually,that’sveryhelpful,”Sweeneysaid.“Siliconeimplantshaveserialnumbers.”ThenHelenblurted,“That’sawful!Herfakeboobsaretheonlywaytotell if it’sthe

realChristina.”

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“Ican’tbelieveIsaidthattothepolice,”Helengroaned.“Youwereinshock,”Margerysaid.“Drinkthishottea.”“Whattimeisit?”Helensaid.“Ihavetoopenthestore.”“It’snineo’clock.Areyousureyou’rewellenoughtogotowork?”Margerysaid.“Don’tfuss,”Helensaid.“Workwilldomegood.”Shestoodup.Shestillfeltwobbly,

butshewasOK.“Peggywilldriveyouthere,”Margerysaid.“Anddon’targue.”Helendidnot.Shewasgratefulforbothwomen’shelp.Shehopedworkwouldkeep

hermindoffthehorrorofChristina’sdeath.AtJuliana’s,Helenopenedaboxofsilkdresses,wrinkledandcrammedtootightlyinto

thebox.ShetriednottothinkofChristina,herbatteredbodyjammedintoabarrel.Wasshestillalivewhenthebarrelwasdumpedinthebay?

Helen called the florist and complained that the flowers looked funereal. “Sendsomethingcheerful,”shesaid.ButthefuneralHelenwasthinkingaboutwasChristina’s.Itwouldhavetobeclosedcasket. I’mburyingher toosoon.Thepolicedon’tknow.ItmaynotbeChristina.

EverythingremindedherofChristina.HelenknewChristinahaddonewickedthings,butthat’snothowsherememberedher.Helensawhersittingonthesilk-satinloveseats,laughing with her regulars. She sawChristina finding the perfect dress for a desperatewoman, convincing her it was designed to make a man as lovesick as she was. WithChristina’smagic,itoftendid.

HelensawChristina,slimandelegant,inherexquisiteclothes.Thenshesawheronanautopsytable,wearingawhitesheetandatoetag.

That’swhenHelenpickedup thephone and calledTara.She couldnotbe alone atJuliana’sanymore.Tarawaseagertoreturntowork.

“I’msorryaboutChristinanotcomingback.Ihopeit’snotserious.”“Nobodyknows,”Helensaid.Shewouldnotmentionthenewspaperarticleunlessshe

had to. That would make it too real. “Do you know where Christina was going onvacation?”

“It’sfunny,”Tarasaid,“butshewentoutofherwaytoavoidtalkingaboutit.Ifiguredit was her business and didn’t press her. I’m sorry you want me back because there’strouble,butIcan’twaittogetoutofhere.”

Helenhadnotmentioned the fake robbery.The subject seemed tohavebarbedwirearoundit.NowTarawaswhisperingintothephone.“Paulie’ssmotheringme.IswearIcan’tgotothejohnwithouthimtaggingalong.Hemeanswell,butI’mgoingcrazy.I’lltellhimmyshrinkrecommendsIgobacktoworkaspartofmyrecovery.AndIknow!I’llsaythecopshaveatwenty-four-hourguardonJuliana’s.You’llbackmeuponthat,right?I’llbeinMonday.”

“Terrific,”Helensaid.“Ineedyou.”Andshedid.Allmorning long,customerscameinandboughtclothesas if someone

hadshreddedtheirwardrobeswithgardenshears.EveryoneaskedafterChristina.Somebrought her little gifts, which Helen put away for when Christina returned. (If shereturned.)Idon’tknowforsurethedeadwomanisChristina,Helentoldherself.(Butsheis.)TheIDhasn’tbeenconfirmedyet.(Butitwillbe.)

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That afternoon, twoMiamiPalmshomicidedetectives showedup at Juliana’s.Theylooked like they’d been auditioning forMiami Vice. Did anyone still wear pink sportjackets and two-day stubble? The men even looked like Crockett and Tubbs. Shewonderedwhichonelivedonthesailboat.

“Do you recognize this purse?” Crockett asked her. He pulled out a brown paperevidencebag.Insidewasthevintagegoldmeshpursewiththediamondsontheclasp.TheoneChristinahadshowedHelenthedaysheleftforvacation.Helenlookedatitandfeltthefloorslideaway.Shegrabbedontothecountertokeepfromfalling.

“Wheredidyougetit?”shesaid.“Didyoufinditinherhome?Orhercar?Pawnshop,that’swhereyougotit.Someonestoleitand...”

Helenwasbabbling.Sheknewit,andthedetectivesknewit,too.Theylookedatherwiththeprofessionalsadnessofpeoplewhohavehadtodelivertoomuchbadnews,andHelencouldnotlietoherselfanylonger.

“Christinaisdead.”She’dsaidit.Nowitwasreal.“Wefoundthispursewiththebody,”Crockettsaid.Howironic,Helenthought.Afragilevintagepursesurvivedunharmed,butChristina,

hardasnailsChristina,didnot.“Onemorething,ma’am,”Crockettsaid.Heshowedherasmoothblackbutton.The

subtlegoldcenterglowedlikeajewel.Thewordsstuckinherthroat.Helenforcedthemout.“It’shersuitbutton,”shesaid.

“Wasshealivewhentheyputherinthebarrel?”“No,”Crockettsaidgently.“Shewasdead.”Helen felt relieved. She did not ask if Christina had suffered. She’d been beaten to

death.“Pleasedon’tmakemeidentifyher.”“No,youwon’thaveto,”Tubbssaid.“We’llmaketheIDfromtheimplants.”Helenfeltanirrationalangerflareup.“Thenwhydidyouhavethatterriblearticlein

thepaper, ifyouknewabout the implants?Couldn’tyouhave tracedher thatwayandsavedmethis?”

“The implantmanufacturer was out of business,” Tubbs said. “The records were instorage.Wewereafraiditwouldtakeawhiletolocatethem.Timeisimportant.Thefasterwestarttheinvestigation,thefasterwecanfindherkiller.Wehavetherecordsnow.Butyourinformationwasabighelp.”

“Doesshehaveanyfamilytoburyher?”Helenasked.“Asister,Lorraine,”Tubbssaid.“ShelivesinArkadelphia.Oncethemedicalexaminer

isthrough,LorrainewilltakethebodyhometoArkansasforburial.Thesisterisflyingintoday.We’dliketoaskyousomequestionsnow,ifyoudon’tmind.”

Helen locked the green door and put up the “back soon” sign. Then she and thedetectiveswenttotheblacksilk-satinloveseats.Helensatdown,eventhoughsittingwasforbiddenforsalesassociateswhentherewerenocustomers.LetMr.Rogetfireher.WithChristinadead,whowouldrunthestore?

ThedetectivesaskedHelenquestionsforwhatseemedlikehours.Thefunnythingwas,Helencouldnotrememberanyofthemlaterorhowsheanswered.Butsherememberedbeingverycareful.Helendidnotlietothepolice.Shejustdidnottellthemeverything.She did not say anything about Christina’s drug dealing and skimming. She did not

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mention themurder ofDesireeEaslee. She toldherself shewas toodisoriented todealwith thosemattersnow. If she said thewrong thing inher shocked state, she couldbeimplicatedindrugdealing,embezzling,andmurder.Afterall,theyhappenedattheshop.Sheneededtimetoworkoutthebestwaytotellthepolice.

After the homicide detectives left, Helen called Mr. Roget. The store owner madeappropriatesoundsofhorroranddismaywhenhelearnedofChristina’smurder,buttheysoundedperfunctorytoHelen.HeseemedmoreinterestedinmakingsurethatHelenandTaracouldrunthestorenowthatChristinawasdead.

“I’mnotsureIwanttomanageJuliana’s,Mr.Roget,”shesaid,justtoseehowtheoldcheapskatewouldreact.

“I’llmakeitworthyourwhile,”hesaid.“Icangiveyouanadditionaldollaranhour.”“That’sall?Forrunningastore?”Helensaid.“You’llgetyourcommissionaftersixmonths.Andofcourse,I’llkeepthesameterms,

cashonly,offthebooks,”hesaid,anditalmostsoundedlikeathreat.HelenrememberedtheLasOlasstoreownerwhowouldn’tpayherincash.She’dbemakingsevenseventyanhour.Sheknewhowharditwastogetthatmoneyonherterms.

“OK,Mr.Roget.DoyouwantmetoclosethestoreMonday,inhonorofChristina?”“Oh, no, Helen,” he said, genuinely upset now. “Don’t close the store. Christina

wouldn’twantthat.”Right,Helen thought.And youwouldn’twant tomiss a sale. Shewondered if he’d

closedthestorewhenhisownmother,theoriginalJuliana,died.“And Helen,” he added, “do what you can to keep the store name out of the

newspapers.Wedon’twantthatkindofpublicityforJuliana’s,dowe?”NowanewfeargrippedHelen,somethingshe’dneverthoughtof.WhatifChristina’s

murder got a lot of press?What if her ownnamegot in thenewspapers?And the twohomicide detectives. Their clothesmay have been out of style, but they looked smart.SupposetheyfiguredoutwhoHelenwas?OnephonecallbacktoSt.Louis,onestoryonthenewswires,andRobwouldfindher.

Helenwould have to go back to cold St. Louis. There would be no evenings spentdrinking wine by the Coronado pool with Peggy and Pete. No purple-clad Margery,dispensingchocolateandsympathy.NoglimpsesofDaniel,theperfectman.

Itwasahorribleprospect.Helenfeltsickjustthinkingaboutit.Sheranfortherest-roomandthrewup.Thenshe

closedtheshopfortheday.TohellwithMr.Roget.

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Chapter18

WhenHelenopenedJuliana’sMondaymorning,shethoughtshesawsomeonebackbythedressingrooms.

“Hello?” she called into the darkened store. “Anyone there?” Helen was frightened.Toomanyoddthingshadhappenedherelately.Sheflippedonthelightsandreachedintoher purse for her pepper spray.With the spray inher hand,Helenhad the courage towalkthroughthestore.

“Hello?”shecalledagain.Shelookedbehindthecounterbutsawnoone.Thecarpethadbeenvacuumedlastnightbythejanitorservice,andnofootprintsdisturbedthedeeppile.

“Who’s there?”Hervoice sounded likeacroak.Therewasnoanswer.But shecouldswearsomeonewasinthestorewithher.

WhenHelen opened the dressing roomdoor, she saw it—a flash of blond hair andblack.Buttherewasnooneintheroom,andnowayforanyonetorunpastHelen.Therewas justanemptydressing room,witha freshlyvacuumedcarpet, apeach silkdressinggownonapaddedhanger,andapairoftinyblackheelsinasizeHelencouldneverhopetowear.Therewasnoblondeinblack.Itwasatrickoftheroom’striplemirrors.

“It’smyimagination,”shethought.It’sChristina,whisperedavoiceinhermind.ButChristinawasdeadandhadbeendeadformorethanaweek.Whywouldshebein

thestorenow?YetHelenhadthefeelingshewasthere,sayinggood-bye,walkingpasttheicebluesilkjacketsshesoadmired,caressingtheHermesscarves,drinkinginthevibrantD&Gcolors,revelingintheriotingVersaces,lookingatthepaintingofthemake-believeJuliana,andfinally,defiantly,sittingonthesilk-satinloveseatsforthelasttime.

“Christina, if that is you, I hope you are at peace,”Helen said, and she felt foolishwhenshesaidit.Butthenshedidn’tfeelfoolish,andshedidn’tfeelfrightenedanymore.Shewassurewhateverhadbeeninthestorewasgone.Still,whenTarashowedupattenthatmorning,shewasrelievedtoseeher.

Tara blew in like a fresh breeze. “I’m in black in honor of Christina,” she said,solemnly.HelenhadcalledherfromMargery’slastnightandtoldherthatChristinawasdead.

Helenalmost smiled.She couldhardly call thatoutfitmourning.Tara’s top stoppedjustsouthofherblackbra,andherBrazilianlowrisejeansbarelycoveredherbikiniwax,leaving most of her flat midriff exposed. But Helen thought Christina would haveappreciatedtheeffort.

“Poor,poorChristina,”Tarasaid.“It’ssohorrible.Ican’tbelieveit.”

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Her black veil of hair parted, andHelen sawTara’s forehead. Even skillfulmakeupcouldnotcompletelyhidetheuglybruise.

“Howareyou?”Helenasked.“I’mOK,”Tarasaid,andshrugged,baringmoremidsection.“ButIdon’twanttotalk

aboutit.”Helendidn’teither.Shedidn’tknowwhattosayorwhyTarahadfakedtherobbery.

Theywerebothrelievedwhenthedoorbellrang.Taralookedoutandsaid,“Doyoureallywanttobuzzthiswomanin?Shedoesn’tlooklikeoneofours.”

UnlikeChristina,Helenbuzzedinalmosteveryone.Theonlypersonsheeverkeptoutwasamotherwithtwolittlegirls,andthosechildrenhadchocolateice-creamcones.ButevenHelenhadher doubts about thiswoman. Shewas short and stout andwearing ashinyblacksatindresswithfussyrufflesandrhinestones.Herchubbyfeetbulgedoutofpatent leather heels.Her gray hair was tortured by a frizzy perm, and her bangs werechoppedoffstraightacrossherforehead.Herskinwaspalewhiteandthicklypowdered.Hermouthwasathin,meanlineinblood-redlipstick.Shedidn’tlooklikesomeonewhowouldshopatJuliana’s,andyetsheseemedfamiliar.

“Honestly,Helen,thatwomanscaresme.Shelookslikeavampire.Dowehavetoletherin?”

“IthinkI’veseenhersomewherebefore,”Helensaid.“HalloweenII?”Tarasaid.Helenlaughedandbuzzedinthewoman.Shebustledin,lookedaroundtheroomwith

disapproval,anddroppeda shapelessblack leatherpurseasbigasadoctor’sbagonthecounter.Tarasteppedbackasifitwerepoisoned.

“I’mhereformysisterLeanne’slastpaycheck,”thewomansaid,herjawthrustoutlikeabulldog’s.“Anddon’ttrytodenyit.I’vebeenthroughherbooksandIknowshe’sowedonemore.”

“I’m sorry, but we have no one named Leanne working here,” Helen said, morepolitelythanthewomandeserved.

“Oh, yes, you do. You just don’t know her God-given name. She called herselfChristina.Shelikedthatphoneyforeignfroufrou.Ourparentsgaveushonest,down-to-earth names, Leanne and Lorraine, but Leanne’s name wasn’t good enough for her.Arkadelphiawasn’tgoodenough,either.Shelefthomemorethantwentyyearsago.Saidwewerehicks.”Fromthesetofthewoman’sjaw,theinsultstillrankled.“ThenshewentandtookanEye-taliannameinstead.”

“Oh,ofcourse,you’reChristina’ssister,Lorraine,”Helensaid,andassoonasshesaidit,shesawthewomanhadChristina’seyes,withoutherclevermakeup,andherpaleskin,powderedintoflourwhiteness.Herthinlipscouldhaveusedsomecollagen.

“Thepolicesaidyouwouldbeintown,”Helensaid.“Iamsosorry.We’reallinshock.Christina’sdeathwassosudden,sounexpected.”

“Ialwaysexpectedit,”Lorrainesaid.“Mysisterwasasinfulwoman.Shelivedalifeofshame and degradation, and God struck her down so she would no longer infect therighteous.”

Taragasped.HelenfeltasuddenrebelliousurgetodefendChristina.“Ithinkyouaremistaken, Lorraine.Christinamanaged a fashionable store andwasmuch loved by her

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clientele.Manyofthemwereherfriends.”“Whores and kept women,” Lorraine said, looking directly at Tara, “who use their

bodies for shameless display and immorality.”Tara backed into a rack of blouses untiltheyalmostcoveredherbaremiddle.

“IsaidtoLeanne,maybeIdon’thaveyourlooks,butIhavesomethingmorelasting,myimmortalsoul.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure in that case that you won’t want to stay here any longer thannecessary,” Helen said frostily. “You wouldn’t want to jeopardize it. Let me getChristina’scheckoutofthesafe.”

Helen came backwith the check and a release form. Just because she could,HelenmadeLorraineshowherdriver’slicenseforidentification.Shesawthebirthdate.Lorrainewasforty-three,onlyfouryearsolderthanChristina,butshecouldhavebeenhermother.

Thiswomaniscold,Helenthought.Shefindsouthersister isdead,andbythenextmorning,shehasalreadycountedhermoneyandwantsherlastpaycheck.

Lorraine’s black purse swallowed the check and snapped shut. “It’s not forme,” shesaid,asifshecouldreadHelen’smind.“ThismoneywillbeusedfortheLord’swork.”

“WilltherebeamemorialserviceforChristinahereinFlorida?”“No,IamtakingmysisterawayfromthisSodomandGomorrah.Shewillbeburied

backhomewhereshebelongs.”Thenthewoman’smouthsnappedshut,remarkablylikeherpurse,andshemarchedout.

Tara was weeping and wiping her runny mascara on the back of her hands. Helenhanded her a tissue. “Poor Christina,” Tara said. “Going back to Arkadelphia. Shewouldn’tbecaughtdeadinaplacelikethat!”

Helen thoughtTara’s statementmade aweird kind of sense. “Remindsme of whatMarkTwainsaidaboutheavenforclimate,hellforsociety.”

“Iseewhyshenevermentionedhersister,”Tarasaid.“I’dwanttoforgetIwasrelatedtothat,too.”

Inhermind,Helen sawChristina again, slender, smart, and so sophisticated.HelenunderstoodatlastwhyJuliana’sgreendoorhadalock.Christinawasnotbarringallthosenameless women with bad T-shirts and cheap shoes. She was keeping out one persononly,herterriblesister.

Shehadlostthatbattle.LorrainewastakingChristinahome—afateworsethandeath.

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Chapter19

Itwasstilldarkatfive-teninthemorning.Helenheardthesoundshe’dbeenwaitingfor,theslidingdoorsofthepaneltruck.

Sheslippedonhercutoffsandsandalsandranoutsideintothewarmblackmorning.The Coronado apartments were silent. One light was glowing yellow in Margery’skitchen.Herlandladyseemedtogetbyonaboutthreehourssleep.

HelencrunchedouttothenewspaperboxinfrontoftheCoronado.Shesawtheredtail lights of the departing delivery truck.Helen bought amorning paper, slipping thecoins in theyellowmetalboxwith trembling fingers.Herheartwaspounding,andhermouthwasdrywithfear.Herwholefuturewaswrappedinathirty-five-centpaper.

Shespreadthepaperoutonhercoffeetable.Nothingonthefrontpage.Nothingintheentire front section.Shebegan tobreatheeasier.Then,whenshewent through thewhole paper, fear grippedher again.Therewas no story.Helenwould have to do thisagaintomorrowandthedayafterthat.

Shetookadeepbreath,thenwentthroughthepaperoncemore,slowlythistime.Shesawthesmallheadlineonpage13A:“PoliceIDBiscayneBayBody.”

The story began, “The body found in Biscayne Bay Friday has been identified asChristinaSmithson,39,managerofJuliana’sdressshop,alongtimeretailfixtureonLasOlas,policesourcessaid.”

The article repeated the awful details but added one thing new. “The murder isbelievedtohavetakenplaceatMs.Smithson’sluxurycondoinSunnyseaBeach.”

Sothat’swhereshedied,Helenthought.Athome,inabuildingwithaburlydoormanandasecuritysystem.

She read on. “Sunnysea Beach homicide detectives are conducting the investigationwith the assistance ofMiami Palms police.” ThatmeantCrockett andTubbswere nolongerrunningtheinvestigation.

“TheDowntownerMerchantsAssociationhasannounceda$25,000rewardforanyonewhohas information leading to thearrestandconvictionof thepersonorpersonswhokilled Ms. Smithson. Anyone with information is requested to contact SunnyseaHomicideDet.Sgt.DwightHanselat954-555-1252.”

Helen’snamewasnowhereinthestory.Shenearlycriedwithrelief.Shewassafe.TheTVstationsdidnothaveanyvideoofthebarrelbeingpulledfromBiscayneBay,sotheyweren’tinterestedinChristina’sstory.

Christina’s murder would not be a big story. Helen’s name would not be in thenewspaper. The court and her ex Robwould not find her. Shewould not have to go

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home toSt.Louis.Helen felt relieved andguilty at the same time.Christinahadbeenburiedtwice,onceinArkadelphiaandnowinthenewspaper.

The twenty-five-thousand-dollar rewardwas a sad commentary,Helen thought.ThelocalmerchantsassociationcaredmoreaboutChristinathanherownsisterdid.Lorrainewasgivinghernothing,notevenaFloridamemorialservice.

WhenHelenrealizedhowmanypeoplereadthatlittlenewsstory,shewasevenmorerelieved her name was not in it. At Juliana’s, the phone rang nonstop that Tuesday.Christina’sfaithfulcustomerswantedtotalkaboutherterribledeath.Someweresobbing.Some wanted to know about funeral arrangements. Others wanted to make sure thatJuliana’swasstayingopen.

“Yes.Theowner,Mr.Roget,saidChristinawouldwantitthatway,”Helensaid.“ThankGod.IhaveapartySaturdaynight,”saidthetongue-piercedTiffany,whohad

finally lost her lisp. “I need a new dress. It’s a matter of life and death.” But notChristina’slife—orherdeath,Helenthought.

She’dbarelyhungupwhenthephonerangagain.“Helen,areyouOK?”ItwasSarah,thewomanjudgedtoofatforJuliana’s.“Isawthe

articleinthenewspaper.TheoneaboutChristina.I’msosorry.Youmustbeworntoafrazzle.Letmetakeyoutolunchtoday.Canyougetawayforhalfanhour?I’mworkingdowntown.”

Helen and Sarah ordered chicken crepes at an outdoor restaurant on LasOlas.Thebrightflowers,greenplants,andprettywroughtironofferedasoothing,shelteredspottodiscussChristina’smurder.

“DothepoliceknowChristinawasskimmingmoneyandsellingdrugs?”Sarahasked,moppingupbéchamelsaucewithaforkfulofcrepe.

“Ididn’tsayanythingtothem,”Helentoldher.“Whynot?”“BecauseitwasworsethanItoldyou,”Helensaid.“Ithinkshealsoarrangedamurder

forhire.”Sarah’screpelandedwithasplatonhersilkjacketandskiddeddownhersuit.Thealert

waitressbroughtSarahaglassofclubsoda,andshescrubbedatthestainwithhernapkin.When Sarah could talk seriously again, she lowered her voice. “Christina arranged a

murder?Youheardthisanddidnothing?”Helenfeltanotherstabofguilt.“Ididn’tthinkIcouldgotothepolice.Iwasn’tsure.I

didn’t know the woman’s name or where she lived. I had no proof, just what I’doverheard,andIdidn’tevenhearthewholeconversation.Icouldhavebeenwrong.”

“Butyouweren’t,”Sarahsaid.Helenabandonedhercrepe.She’dlostherappetite.“Helen,you’vegottogotothepolice.”“Idon’twantmynameinthepaper,”Helensaid.“The best way to get your name in the paper is if the police find out you’ve been

holdingbackinformation.You’lllookguilty.Comeforwardnow,andyoustilllooklikeaconcernedcitizen.”

“ButwhatifthepoliceneverfindoutwhatChristinawasdoing?”“Didthosedetectiveslookstupid?”“No.Theywereverysmart.”

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“Thenthey’llfindout.Besides,it’stherightthingtodo.”Something in that corny phrase appealed toHelen’sMidwesternmorality.Maybe it

wasbecauseSarahlookedsoearnest,sohonest,shemadeHelenwanttobelieveintruth,justice,andtheAmericanway.

“You’reright,”Helensaid.“I’lldoit.I’llcalltheMiamiPalmspolice.”“ThepapersaystheinvestigationisbeinghandledinSunnysea.That’sthesceneofthe

murder.”“ThenI’llcallSunnyseawhenIgetback.”“Good.Andasyourrewardforbeingasolidcitizen,we’llgooutformargaritasafter

work.Let’sgosomeplaceclose.MaybeHimmarsheeVillage.I’llcomebyaboutsix.”Thereliefwasexhilarating.Helenfeltasifabackpackfullofrockshadbeenliftedfrom

her shoulders.As soon as she returned to Juliana’s, she called thename she saw in thepaper,DetectiveSergeantDwightHansel.

Andso,HelenmadethebiggestmistakesinceshewalkeddowntheaislewithRob.

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Chapter20

“Are you telling us this broad was running drugs, skimming money, and arrangingmurders?”DetectiveDwightHanselsaid.

“Yes,Iam,”Helensaid.AndI’mmakingahashofit,shethought.Hanselandhispartner,DetectiveKarenGrace,wereatJuliana’swithinanhourafter

her call. As soon asHelen saw the tall, loudmouthedHansel swagger in the door, sheknewshewasintrouble.Shecouldtellwherehespentmostofhistime.Thosemassiveshouldersandmuscledarmsweremadeinthegym.Thatbeergutcamefromevenlongerhoursonabarstool.

His partner, Karen Grace, had strawberry blonde hair and a figure Helen’sgrandmotherwouldhavecalledbuxom.Shealsohadcops’eyesandawayofwalkingthatsaid“Don’tmesswithme.”

Helentoldthetwohomicidedetectivesthewholestory.Hanselmadeitclearhedidn’tbelieveHelen.“Didyoutellthestoreownerthiswomanwasstealingfromhim?”hesaid.

“No,”Helensaid.“Icouldn’tproveanything.Theshippingchargecouldhavebeenanadditionerror.”

Helenwassweatingnow.WhatifMr.RogetfoundoutChristinahadbeenskimming?He’dfireHelenfornottellinghim.Itwouldtakeweekstofindanotherjob.Helenwouldfallbehindinherbillsandnevercatchup.She’dhavetoleavetheCoronado.Witheverystupidsentence,Helensawanotherpieceofhernewlifeslippingaway.

“And the drugs? Why didn’t you say something about them to Mr. Roget or thepolice?”Hanselsaid.

“Uh,”Helensaid.“Didn’tyousayyoufoundEcstasy,andthisChristinasoldittoacustomer?”“Iwasn’tsure.Someoneelsecouldhavedroppedit.”“Really?Yougotalotofpeopledroppingdrugsinhere?”“No.I’dneverseenanybefore.”Helenfelt likeshewastwistedintoapretzel.Shecouldn’tthinkstraight.Hanselhad

beenquestioningherforwhatseemedlikehours,askingthesamethingsoverandover.“Whatdidyoudowhenyouoverheardthisso-calledmurderbeingplanned?”Hansel

said.“Iwasn’tsureitwasamurder.Ididn’tknowthevictim’sname.TherewasnowayI

couldfindher.”“Youcouldhavecometous.WewouldhaveknownhowtogetintouchwithJimmy

theShirt.That’showyoufindhisnewgirlfriend.”

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Helenfeltthebottomdropoutofherstomach.He’sright,shethought.IletawomandiebecauseIdidnothing.Butwhatifshe’dgonetosomeonelikeDwightHansel?Wouldhehavetakenherseriouslyorshruggedheroffasacrazywoman?Helenknewtheanswer.

“ThemurdererhadnotroublefindingDesireeEaslee,”hesaid.“Sheisdead.Weknowthatmuchistrue.Howdidyoufindoutabouthermurder?”

“IsawitonTV,”Helensaid.Shecouldfeeltheangerbuilding,thesameangerthatgotherinsomuchtroubleincourt.Maybeshe’dmadeamistake.Butshewastryingtodotherightthingnow,andthiswaswhatshegot.

“Anddidyoutellthepolice?”DetectiveHanselsoundedsosnide,sosneery.JustlikethatsanctimoniousjudgeinSt.

Louis. Something snapped inHelen. “No, because I knew I’d encounter someone likeyou,”shesaid.

“Watchit,lady.Icanhaulyouinasamaterialwitness,”Hanselsaid.Helenwasprettysurehecouldnotdothat.Butshewasalsosurehecouldmakeherlifemiserable.Infact,hewasalreadydoingthat.

“So what we have here is a criminal mastermind with fake tits?” Hansel said,sarcastically.

“Implants don’t lower a woman’s IQ, detective—just a man’s,” Helen said. Hispartner,KarenGrace,snorted.“Christinawassmartandbeautiful.Howdoyouthinkshegotthatmillion-dollarocean-viewpenthouse?”

“Onherback,”Hanselsaid.“Notatalmostforty,detective.You’dbetterinvestigatealittlebetter.”“Iapologizeformypartner.Hecanbeinsensitive,”DetectiveGracesaid.“Hey,whatisthis?”DwightHanselsaid.Hesoundedindignant,buttheymighthave

beenplayinggoodcop,badcop.Helendidn’tcare.Shewantedthemtoleave.“Wedriveallthewayoverhere,andyoutellthiswildstory,”Hanselsaid.“Wehaven’t

foundanythingtosupportit:nodrugsinthewoman’scondo.Noshoeboxesfullofcashinhercloset.Yes,shehadmoremoneythanastoremanagershould,buthersistersaysshe received a nice cash gift from an aunt in Arkansas. A sort of off-the-books legacybeforetheoldladydied.We’renottheIRS.Wedon’tcareaboutthat.HersistersaysthisChristinawassmartaboutinvestingandturneditintoalotofmoney.Andwedidfindevidencethatsheknewherwayaroundthestockmarket.”

Lorrainemadeupthatstory,Helenthought.Christina’solder,coldersisterwasgreedy.Helen wondered if Lorraine had found the cash and hauled it home with Christina’sbody.Lorraineconcoctedthestoryofthelegacy,sothepolicewouldn’tlooktoocloselyatChristina’sbankaccount.Lorrainewantedtoinheritallofherdeadsister’smoney,legalornot.

ButHelendidn’tsayanyofthat.WhowouldHanselbelieve:saltoftheearthLorraineorHelenwithherwildtaleofdrugsandmurderatadressshop?

“DidyoufindChristina’scat?”sheaskedinstead.“Cat?Therewasnosignofone,”DetectiveGracesaid.“Wedidn’tfindnocat,”Hanseladded.“ShehadacatnamedThumbs.Ithadsixtoes.”“Shemusthavegivenitaway,”Hanselsaid.

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“She’dneverdothat,”Helensaid.“Christinalovedthatcat.MaybeThumbsranawaywhenthepoliceopenedthedoor.”

“Andtookits litterbox?”Gracesaid.“I’mtellingyouwefoundnosignofacat.Notoys,nolitterbox,nofoodorbowls.Nothing.”

“Anycathair?”“Some.Sheworkedinapublicplace.Shecouldhavebroughtthosehairshomewith

her.Hercondowasclean.Nothingwasoutofplace,exceptinoneroom.”“Whatwasinthere?”Hanselcutin.“Can’ttellyou.It’spartofanongoinginvestigation.”“Didyoufindanypursesinhercondoorhercar?Shetookaboxofexpensiveevening

purseswithherwhensheleftthatlastSaturday,”Helensaid.Therewerenopurses.Therewasnocat.

When the two detectives finally left, Helen felt beat up. She was mad at herself andsnippywithSarahwhensheshowedupatthestore.“Yougotmeintothis,DudleyDo-Right,”shesaid.

“Istillthinkit’sbetterthatyouwenttothepolice,”Sarahinsisted,stubbornly.“WhatifHanselfoundoutthatinformationonhisown?”

“He’stoodumbtofindanythingbutthenextbrew.”“Andhispartner?Isshedumb,too?”“No,”Helensaid.“Shedidn’ttalkmuch,butshedidn’tseemstupid.”“Thenyoudidtherightthing,”Sarahsaid.But Helen didn’t think so. She hardly spoke as they walked around the old

Himmarshee Village. It was old for Fort Lauderdale, anyway. The museum buildingshailed from about 1905.The commercial buildingswere from the1920s.Helen couldfindblocksofbuildingsmucholderinSt.Louis,butFloridawasnewlyhatched.

AFloridahistoricaldistrictwasnotasoberaffair.Mostofthebuildingswerebarsandrestaurants,withplentyofbeerandlivebands.SarahandHelenstoppedatabarandhadmargaritas.Helen likedthesalty-sweettaste,butshewasrestlesssitting inthedarkbar.Sarahdidn’twanttosit long,either.TheysawhugecrowdsstreamingtowardSammy’sGoodTymeSaloon.

HelenandSarahfollowedthecrowd.EveryinchofSammy’swaspacked.Peoplewerehangingofftheupstairsdecks,sittingonthebalconiesandstaircases.Morewerecrowdingtheopenfirst-floorwindows,watchingthepartyersluckyenoughtogetinside.Sammy’ssetupauxiliarybarsat theentrance, sellingbeer,wine,andbottledwater to thosewhocouldn’tgetin.

“What’sdrawingthehugecrowd?”Helensaid.“ABeatlesreunion?”“BigDickandtheExtenders,”saidatwenty-somethingwithaluxuriantgoatee.“They

usuallyplayintheUpperKeys.They’regreat.”“I’veheardof them,”Sarah said.“BigDick is supposed tomakeHowardStern look

likeMissManners.”Helen and Sarah elbowed theirway in closer to the openwindows.Helen liked the

music. Most of it was songs from the sixties and seventies, with some hard-drivingsouthern rock. She did not like BigDick’s jokes. She had expected some about sexual

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organs, considering theband’s name.What shedidn’t expectwashowmany jokes putdownwomenandhowmanywomenlaughedatthem.Theyevenlaughedwhenhesaid,“Iseealotofbeautifulwomenheretonight.Iseesomeuglybitches,too.”

Helen felt trapped in a fifties frat house.The audience,mostly youngmen andbig-hairedwomen,seemedtoloveit.

“Let’sgetoutofhere,”Sarahsaid.“Tookthewordsoutofmymouth,”Helensaid.Shewasabouttowalkaway,whenshe

sawatallmaninapurplemuscleshirtdeepinsidethebar.Heseemedfamiliar,butshecouldn’tplacehim.

“Sarah,wait.Doyouknowthatguy?”shesaid,pointinghimout.“Ican’tgetagoodlookathisface,”Sarahsaid.“Therearetoomanypeople.”Acoupleinfrontofthemleft,andSarahandHelenmovedforwardandpushedtheir

way inside.Helen saw the guymore clearly now, but she still couldn’t place him.Hestrippedoffhismuscleshirt,waveditintheair,andbegandancinglikeaChippendale.Muscle Shirt was at least three beers ahead of his companions. The drunken crowdcheered, andhisdancegrewwilder and lewder.Helen sawMuscleShirthad incrediblyhairyarmpits.Thenshegotagoodlookathisface.

“Oh, my God. It’s Detective Dwight Hansel,” she said. “The homicide cop whointerviewedmetoday.I’vemadeaterriblemistake.”

The band took a break, and the sudden quiet was thunderous. Then the regularbarroomsounds startedupagain—theclinkofbottles, the scrapeof chairs, snatchesofconversation:“SoIsaidtoher, ifyoudon’t like it,youcanhaulyourskinnyassoutofhere...”

Niceplace.“Let’sgetoutofherebeforeDwightHanselseesus,”Helensaid.“I’vebeenreadytoleaveforalongtime,”Sarahsaid,startingforthedoor.Itwas too late.Hansel sawthemandstepped in frontofHelen.Hewas standing so

close, she could smell the sweat on his purplemuscle shirt.His skin looked slick andslippery.

“Youfollowingme,Helen?”hesaid,pointingtohischestwithhisbeer.Thebottlewassweating, too. “You can save your energy. I’m going to be following you. In fact, I’mgonna be all over you like a cheap suit. You knowwhy?Because I think something isgoingoninthatstore.I’vebeentalkingtosomepeople.ThatChristinawassellingmorethan dresses. And you’re in on it. Or maybe it’s the boyfriend. Hey, I like that evenbetter.You’reinonitwiththeboyfriend.”

“Joe?”Helensaid.Itcameoutasacroak.“Yeah.Maybeyouwantedarichboyfriendforyourself.Soyoumurderedyourfriend

Christina.”Helen was so insulted he’d accused her of wanting Joe, she ignored the charge of

murder.“Joe?YouthinkI’minterestedinJoe?Iwouldn’tgooutwithJoeifhewasthelastman

onearth.He’sevendumberthany—”Shestoppedjustintime.Shealmostsaid“you.”“Thanwhat?”Hanselsaid.

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“Yourbeerbottle,”sheendedlamely.“Joe’s smart about money,” he said. “He has a couple million in the bank. You’re

makinghowmuchpushingdresses?Maybeyou’d rather spendyourdays sittingoutbysomerichguy’spool.”

“You’vegottobekidding,”Helensaid.“Oh,no,”hesaid,softly.“I’mdeadserious.”Thenhewalkedbacktohisfriendsand

leftHelenstandinginthemiddleoftheseethingcrowdofdrunks.Helenfeltthefearinthepitofher stomach, coiled andknotted andheavy.She’d trappedherself.Thismanwouldneverbelieveher.

“AreyouOK?”Sarahsaid.“No,”Helensaid.“Whatdoyouwanttodo?”“Getanotherdrink,”Helensaid.

Helenwassurpriseditwasstillearlywhenshegotoutofthebar.Whichbaritwas,shecouldn’tremember,andthesignseemedkindofblurry.Butherwatch,whichshecouldread,saiditwasonlyeight-thirty.Helenwastipsy.No,nottipsy.Hammered.HammeredinHimmarshee.

“Icanwalkhome,”Helensaid.“You’renotwalkinghomeinyourcondition,”Sarahsaid.Sheheldherliquorbetter,or

maybeshehadn’tdrunkasmuchasHelen.Anyway,SarahdroveHelentotheCoronado.Helen nearly fell out of the big Range Rover when she opened the door. She walkedcarefullytoherapartment,asifherheadmightfalloff.ThensheputonhercutoffsandTweetyBirdT-shirtandpouredherselfsomewineinanicedteaglass.Shefilledtheglasstothebrim.

Margerywas sittingat thepicnic table, smokingMarlborosandreadingapaperback.Herlandlady’sshortswerethecolorofanewbruise.Hertoenailswererubyred.ShesawHelenlurchintoachaiselongue.

“What the hell is thematter with you?”Margery said. “I think Imade amistake,”Helensaid.Herwordssoundedslurred.

MargerypickedupHelen’sicedteaglassandpouredthewineonthegrass.“Hey!”Helensaid.Margery ignoredher.Shewent intoherplaceandcameoutwithahamsandwich,a

bagofpretzels,andabigglassofwater.“Eatthis,”shesaid.“Anddrinkallthewater.I’mnotmakingyoucoffeebecausethat

willjustmakeyouawide-awakedrunk.”Helenate.Shewashungryandthirsty.ThenshetoldMargerywhatshehaddone.“You made a mistake,” Margery said. For some reason, Helen felt better when her

landladysaidthat.“Whydidn’tyoutellmeyouweregoingtotheSunnyseapolice?Theyhave the worst force on the beach.Didn’t you hear about the homeless guy who wasTasered?”

Helenlookedblank.“Musthavebeenbeforeyoumovedhere.Therewassomethingwrongwiththeguy.He

was mental or on drugs or something, and he went into a Sunnysea café and started

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tearinguptheplace.Brokeawindow, flippedover twotables, scaredtheownerhalf todeath.Thecopswerecalled.Fourofthemshowedup.TheyheldtheguydownandhithimwithaTaser.Astungun.Theguydied.Somewitnessessaidthecopswerejustified.Othersthoughttheyusedexcessiveforce.Oneofthepapersaskediftherewasgoingtobean investigation. Know what the police chief said? ‘Why? We didn’t shoot him oranything.’”

Helengroaned.Shecouldfeelaheadachestarting.Shecouldfeelthatheavycoilinherstomachgrowtighter.Itwassqueezingherguts.

“Look,SunnyseaBeachhassomegoodcops,”Margerysaid.“Butthecitycan’taffordtopaymuch, so they can’thire the sortofpolice you’dget in a richerplace.Theygetyoung,inexperiencedcopswhothinktheyknoweverything.Theygetrejectsfromotherdepartments.TheygetretiredguysfromupNorthwithattitudesandpensionswhodon’tcareanymore.”

Helengroanedagain.Nowherheadwasthrobbing,andhergutswereinaviselikegrip.Snakesoffearslitheredaroundinthepitofherstomach.ShehadnotfeltlikethissincesheranfromSt.Louis.

“Toolateforregretsnow,”Margerysaidbriskly.“Youtalked.Thedamageisdone.I’lldomybesttoprotectyou.Ifthosecopsshowuphere,youcallme.Ifyouneedalawyer,youcallme.Iknowagoodonewhoowesmeafavor.Ifyouneedanyotherhelp,letmeknow....Whatthehellisthat?”

Margery’sheadswiveledaroundlikethekidinTheExorcist.Helenfollowedher.TheysawPeggytheparrotladyandDanielthemagnificentstrollingalongthesidewalk.

Helenthoughttheymadeastunningcouple:long-legged,red-hairedPeggyandDanielwiththeripplingmusclesandthetinyshortswiththelargebulge.

Helensawthecouplewasactuallyathreesome.Agrumpy-lookingPetesatonHelen’sshoulder.DanielseemedtorealizethatPetewasoutofsorts,too.Hereachedouttopettheparrot.PeteclampeddownonDaniel’sfingerandrefusedtoletgo.Theparrothadawild,piraticallookinhiseye.

“Pete!” Peggy said angrily. “Pete! Stop it right now.” But Pete hung on. She gentlypriedhisbeakopentofreeDaniel’sdigit.

“Isthataparrotorapitbull?”Danielsaid.“Pete’sgoingtohisroom,”Peggysaid.“Daniel,Iamsosorry.”Andshewasgone.“LetmegetyouaBand-Aid.You’rebleeding,”Helensaid.Therewasatinyteardropof

bloodonDaniel’sfinger.Itwasperfect,too.“You better put some antibacterial ointment on that,” Margery said. “Do you have

any?”“Yes,”Helensaid.DanielfollowedHelendocilelyintoherapartment.Shewasgratefulthatshe’dhungup

herworksuitandput thewineboxawaybefore shewentoutby thepool.At least shedidn’tlooklikeadrunkenslob.WithDanielsonear,Helenwassoberingupfast.

WhenDaniel stepped into her apartment, the place suddenly seemedmuch smaller,andthebedmuchbigger.Thebedwasverybig.Itseemedtotakeovertheapartment.Itwaspulsating,throbbing,beckoning.NomatterwhereHelenlooked,shesawthebed.

Danielwasstandingmuchtooclose.Shedidn’twanthimtodothat.No,shedid.She

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wanted him even closer. But Helen was afraid she’d do something embarrassing, likethrowherselfintohisarmsandstartkissinghim.HelenwasalsoafraidtotakeDanielintoherbathroom,whichwasthesizeofaphonebooth.ShehadhimsitdownonthecouchandbroughtintheointmentandaBand-Aid.

“Wouldyouputitonforme?”heasked.Helentookhiswoundedhandandhelditinhers.Danielhadhuge fingers, andHelenwondered if thatmeanthisother appendageswerelarge.Feet,forinstance,shetoldherself,tryingtoclearherpheromone-foggedbrain.

Itdidn’twork.SmearinggooalloverDaniel’sindexfingerandwrappingitinaBand-Aid seemed like somearcaneaphrodisiac rite, aprelude topassion.Getagrip,woman,shetoldherself.

“Well,”Helensaid,briskly.“That’sthat.”“Thanks,”hesaid,lookingdeeplyintohereyes.“AnythingIcandoforyou?”Helen studiedhis face for a smirk.He seemed to be sincere. “For aBand-Aid?” she

said,withashakylaugh.“Don’tbesilly.”“ThenIguessIbettergo,”hesaid,andmovedoffintothevelvetnight.Helencouldnotstandtobealoneinherapartment.Danielhadoverpoweredit.He’d

overpowered her fears, too. She still felt the fear coiling in the pit. Shewas still afraidDetective Dwight Hansel would get her. But when Daniel was with her, the snakesstoppedslithering.

Helen stepped around her huge empty bed, opened the patio door, and cursed herdenseness.Daniel had given her an invitation, and she was too dumb to recognize it.She’dlostheronlychancetobelovedbyaperfectman.Shebreathedinthesoftnightairandthoughtshemightdieoflonging.ButwomenwhoworeTweetyBirdshirtsdidnotdieofanythingsointeresting.

Helenwentsadly,soberly,outtothepool.Peggywasoutsideagain,withoutPete.OrthemagnificentDaniel.Petewasn’tapet,Helendecided.Hewasafeatheredchaperone.Anearsplittingsquawkwasenoughtodiscouragemostmen.Ifnot,Peteliterallynippedtheromanceinthebud.

“IguessImessedupmychancesforadate,huh?”Peggysaid.Helenlookedather.“Youdon’treallycare,doyou?”“I’dcareverymuchifPetehadhurtDaniel,”shesaid,seriously.“Butyoudon’treallywanttodateDaniel,doyou?”Helensaid.“Youadmirehim,like

apaintingorastatue.”“Helen, I’vehadtoomuchhands-onexperience toget involvedwithanymanagain.

I’mthroughwiththemforgood.Pete’stheonlymanforme.”HelenwonderedwhathadhappenedtomakeawomanasstrikingasPeggylivelikea

nun.Their purple-clad landlady popped out of the palms like a wild orchid. “What

happened?”Margeryasked.“Absolutelynothing,”Helensaid.“Goodgirl,”Margerysaid,approvingly.“Onlywaytolandamanlikethat.”ButHelenwassureshe’dmadeanothermistake.

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Chapter21

“Ifyouneedanyotherhelp,letmeknow....”Margery’s words haunted Helen as she walked back to her apartment. She passed

throughPhil’spotfoginafogofherown.Helenknewshewasintrouble.Bigtrouble.Shehadangeredahomicidedetective.IfDwightHansellookedintoherlife,whatwouldhefind?

Nothing.Helenhadnophone,nocreditcards,nobankaccount,notevenapaycheck.Anygood

detectivewouldbesuspicious.But Hansel was not a good detective. That was Helen’s only hope. He was a

loudmouth drunk, a party animal. Of course, she’d been poking sticks into the partyanimal’scage.Hecouldstrikebackwithasearchwarrant.

Buthewouldnotfindanything,shethought.There’snotraceofmyotherlifeexceptforateddybearandsomeclothes.

Andanoldsuitcase.Containingseventhousandonehundredandeightdollarsincash.Awild flashofpanicrippedthroughHelen.Buried inherclosetwasseventhousand

dollars she couldnot explain. Shehadnobank statements.That cashwould say “drugmoney”toanycop,nomatterhowstupid.Thecoiloffeargrewheavier.Thesnakeswereslitheringinthepitagain.

I’vegot toget thatmoneyoutofmyapartment, she thought.Helenpacedbackandforth,asking:WherecanIkeepthatcash?

Asafedepositbox?No,thatwouldcostmoneytorent.Besides,itwouldleaverecords.EvenHanselcouldfindasafedepositbox.

“Ifyouneedanyotherhelp,letmeknow....”Margery.Margerywouldhelpher.Helenpulleddownall theblinds, flungopen the

utilityclosetdoorandgrabbedtheoldSamsonitesuitcasewedgedbetweenthewallandthewaterheater.

She looked out her front door. The Coronado apartments were quiet. No one wasoutside.Peggy’s lightswereoff.SowereDaniel’s.Cal’swereon,but shecouldhearhisTV.AndPhil?Shesniffedtheair,heavywiththesweet,burning-leafsmellofpot.Philwashappilyinthehay.

Margery’slightwason.Helencarriedthesuitcaseovertoherlandlady’sapartmentandknockedlightlyonthedoor.“Margery!”shecalledinawhisper.“Margery,areyouthere?”

“Where else would I be at this hour?” Margery bellowed, flinging open the door.“Comeon in.”Shewaswearing apurple chenille robe.Hergrayhairbristledwith red

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spongecurlers.“Areyourunningawayfromhome?”shesaid.“What’swiththesuitcase?”“Margery,canyoukeepthisforme?Ipromiseit’snothingillegal,butIcan’t...”“Thelessyoutellme,thebetter.AsfarasI’mconcerned,I’mstoringyouroldluggage.

Caseclosed,”herlandladysaid,pattingthesuitcase,“andI’mkeepingitthatway.”

Helen’sworstnightmarecametrue.Thenextmorning,DetectiveDwightHanselshowedupwithasearchwarrant.Buthewantedtosearchthestore,notherhome.

Hanselandhispartner,DetectiveKarenGrace,werewaitinginfrontofJuliana’swhenHelenarrivedatnine-thirty.Helenlookedlikeadrugdealerinherheavyblacksunglasses,butshewasonlytryingtoshieldhereyes fromthesearingsun.Helenwassohungoverfrom her night inHimmarshee she could hardly unlock the door. Breakfast had beenblack coffee and aspirin.Only then did she have the courage to look in the bathroommirror.Helenwincedatthesight:Shelookedoldenoughtobeherownmother.

DetectiveHanseldidnot look like someonewhohadbeendancingon theceilingatSammy’sGoodTymeSaloonthenightbefore.HeseemedearnestandsoberandeagertonailHelen’shidetothegreendoor.DetectiveGracewasthesameoddmixofdon’t-mess-with-mevoluptuousness.HelensuspectedGracehadtowatcheverybitetokeepthatlushfigure fromgoing to fat.Ormaybenot.WorkingwithHanselcouldmakeanywomanloseherappetite.

Hanselwantedtosearchthepremisesforevidenceofdrugs.Helenwasrelievedtoseethat the search warrant was fairly specific. The police were looking for ledger books,documents,long-distancerecords,andcomputerdisksthatdidnotrelatetothebusinessofthestoreandalsoforillegaldrugsornarcoticsparaphernalia.

NoscalesandtinybaggiesatJuliana’s,Helenthought.Sofar,sogood.Helen calledMr.Roget inCanada and toldhim twohomicidedetectiveswanted to

search the store in connection with Christina’s death. Mr. Roget did not understandAmericanlawanddidn’tcareto.“Cooperatefullywiththepolice,andcallmeifthereisaproblem,”hesaid.Helenwasrelievedhedidn’tasktoomanyquestions.

Stayoutof theway, she toldherself.Stayunder the radar.Youcannot afford togetnoticedbythepolice.YoudonotwanttogohometoSt.Louis.

Helenmovedtothebackofthestorebytheblacksilk-satinloveseats,asfarawayasshecouldget fromDetectiveDwightHansel.Hewasup front, searching the counter area.DetectiveGracewasintheback,lookingatledgersinthestockroom.

SheaskedHelenwhatshewasdoingtheweekendofChristina’sdeath.HelentoldherthatshehadbeenonadatewithCalSaturdaynight.She’dspenttherestofthetimeatthe Coronado, where her landlady watched her like a hawk. Detective Grace tookMargery’snameandaddress.ShealsowantedthenamesofJuliana’sregulars.Helengaveheralist.

Then she gave Helen something. “You were right,” Grace told her. “ChristinaSmithsonhadacat.Iwentbackandcheckedherapartment.”

“DidyoufindThumbs?”Helensaid,hopingthecuddlyanimalwassafe.“No,Isawtherubbingmarks.”“Thewhat?”

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“IhaveacatnamedCookie.Catsmarktheirterritorybyrubbingtheirheadsandfacesonfurniture,doorjambs,andcorners.Itleavesadirtygrayspotatcatheight,nomatterhowcleanyouare,”DetectiveGracesaid.“IfoundtherubbingspotsatChristina’s.Therewasonenearakitchencabinetwheresheprobablykept thecat food.Way intheback,behindsomefoldedpaperbags,wereafewfoodpelletsandagroomingbrush.Thebrushwasfullofhair.Thelabsaysit’sdomesticcathair.Shehadacatsometimewhileshelivedthere.”

ItwasasmallvictoryforHelen.DetectiveGracedidn’tcomeoutandsayit,butshebelievedHelenwastellingthetruth—aboutthecat,anyway.ShegaveHelenhercardandsaid,“Callmeifyouthinkofanythingelse.”

Her partnerwas another problem.DwightHansel treatedHelen as if shewas lying,andhewentoutofhiswaytotellher.“Istillhaven’tfoundanythingtosubstantiateyourstory,”hesaid.

Staypolite,shetoldherself.“I’msorry,”shesaid.“Ihearwomenofacertainagecanstartmakingupstories,”hesaid.“Hastodowith

hormonesorsomething.Unlessyou’rejustplainlying.”Don’tlethimrattleyou,shetoldherself.“I’mnotlying,”shesaid.“You were the last one to see her alive,” he said. “And that makes you especially

interestingtome.”I’ve got to find out who killed Christina before Dwight Hansel looks into my life,

Helenthought.He’llsendmehometoRobforpurespite.Nowthesnakeswereslitheringinapitlitbyslashesofpanic.

Attena.m.,shewasnolongeraloneinhermisery.Taraarrivedforworkandturnedpalewhenshesawthetwodetectives.HelenthoughtTaralookedthinandvulnerableinhertinytightskirtandlowcuttop.Tarakeptpullingherlongblackhairacrossherfacelikeacurtain,hopingtohidebehindit.

ShetoldDetectiveHanselshewasanewemployeeandhadonlyworkedforChristinafor one week, which was true. Tara forgot to mention that she’d been a customer atJuliana’sforsixyears.Helendidn’ttellthecops,either.Herlastattemptatbeingasolidcitizenhadbeenadisaster.

Thesearchwasswiftandefficient.Thepolice tooksomepapersandcomputerdisks,butitseemedcleartheyfoundnothingexciting.Christinahadremovedhertroublesomespecialpursesbeforesheleftforvacation.Thepolicedidfindsometinybaggies,buttheyheldextrabuttons.Iftherewereanystraypillsfromtheinfamouspursespill,thecleaningservicehadvacuumedthemupweeksago.

ThetwodetectivesgaveHelenareceiptfortheitemstheytookandsaidtheywouldgetmoredetailedrecordsfromthephonecompany.Helenwonderediftheywouldfindanysuspicious calls and felt another jagged stabof fear.Therewasnoway she couldproveChristinamadethosecalls,nother.

Helen andTarawere both relievedwhen the twodetectives left butwary of talkingaboutthesearch.

“Didtheybringinthedrug-sniffingdogs?”Taraasked.“No,”Helensaid.“We’re luckyDetectiveHansel is lazy,”Tara said. “The cops did that to a friendof

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mine.He’dmovedhisstash,butthedogsknewithadbeenthereandsetuparacket.Thecopsmadehislifehell.”

Taraknowsaboutthepurses,Helenthought.Butallshesaidwas,“DetectiveHanseldidn’tmentionanythingaboutthetwoarmedmenwhoforcedtheirwayinhere.”

“Oh,”Tarasaid.Thatsinglesyllableheldimmeasurablerelief.Bothwomenhopedthepoorcommunicationbetweenthetwopolicedepartmentswouldkeepthateventburied.

The awkward silence was broken when the doorbell rang. Juliana’s regulars beganstoppingbylikemournersvisitingafuneralhome.Theyweredressedinimpeccableblackand had the air of women at a wake. They knew Christina would have no memorialservice.Thiswastheonlywayherfavoritescouldpaytheirrespects.

Brittney,Tiffany,andBiancaallshowedup,fortunatelyafterthepoliceleft.Thethreechiefmournershuddled togetheron the silk-satin loveseatswithTara,drinkingbottledwater, remembering Christina, and discussing their favorite plastic surgeries. Helen,mindful that shewas not one of them, stood respectfully nearby, feeling like a funeralhomeattendant.Actually,shefeltmorelikethecorpse.Shewasstillhungoverfromlastnight.

Brittney was talking about a society dinner party. “The hostess was a rich doctor’swife,”shesaidinaghostlywhisper.

“Aren’ttheyall?”Tiffanysaid.“Exceptfortherichlawyer’swives,”Tarasaid.“Herpenthousecondocostmillions,”Brittneysaid.“Itwasrightonthewater.Butshe

hastheworsteyejobinLauderdale.Whensheblinked,oneeyelidclosedslowerthantheother. I couldn’t stop looking at her. Finally, I had to ask the name of her surgeon. IwantedtomakesureIneverwenttohim.”

Theothersshuddereddelicately.Tiffanyseemedunawarethatherowneyejobwaslessthansuccessful.

“Ittakessuchcouragetohaveanyworkdone,”saidtheradicallyrearrangedBrazilian,Bianca.“Oneslipandyou’reuglyforever.”Helenfiguredwithallthesurgerythey’dhad,thesewomenhadthecourageofaRomanlegion.

They discussedwhodid the best eye jobs (upper and lower),which plastic surgeonscorrectedtheotherdoctors’mistakes,andthemeritsoffaceliftsversusfatinjections.

“Fatinjectionshavelessrisk,buttheyonlylasteightmonths,”Tarasaid.“Andthat’sifthedoctordoesn’tgetgreedyanddilutethefat.Ifhedoes,thenit’sfour

tosixmonths,”Tiffanysaid.“Orifshedoes,”whisperedBrittney.“Womendoctorsarejustasgreedyasmen.”“Greedistheoneplacewherewomenhavetrueequality,”Tarasaid.Helenfoundthat

linestrangelyhaunting.Thedoorbellchimed,andthewomen lookedup.“Helen,youcan’t let thatone in,”

Tara said, alarmed. “She’swearing abeigeAnnTaylor suit.Christina said anyonewhowore Ann Taylor was too boring for words. This woman is definitely too boring forJuliana’s.”

Helenlikedthesuit.Infact,shehadonealmost like it.“She’scarryingaKateSpadebag,”Helensaidfirmly.

“It’s last season’s,” Bianca sniffed. “They sell them at no-name designer sales. Look

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inside.Itwillbestamped‘salvage.’”Helenbuzzedinthewomananyway,tothefiercedisapprovaloftheloveseatset.Itwas

notenoughforthemtobeadmitted.Othersmustbeexcluded.Otherwise,thegreendoormeantnothing.

The Ann Taylor woman only confirmed Helen’s poor judgment in their surgicallyalteredeyes.Shecommittedonefauxpasafteranother.

Ms.Tayloraskedwherethepricetagswere,andtheloveseatwomenrolledtheireyes.Juliana’scustomersknewpricetagswereneverdisplayed.

TheysniggeredopenlywhenMs.Taylorsaid,“Excuseme,butsomeoneleftherhighheelsinthedressingroom.”Juliana’scustomersknewtheshoeswerethereasacourtesyiftheyneededtoseehowadresslookedwithheels.

TheywerenotsurprisedwhenMs.Taylorleftwithoutbuyinganything.Helen sighed and, for the tenth time thatmorning,wishedChristinawas there. She

alwaysknewwhattosaytoherregulars,howtosell tothem,andhowtosoothethem.Helen liked Juliana’s customers,mostof the time.Shepitied themsometimes, and shealwaysenviedtheirmoney.Butshefelttheywerefromsomealienplanet.Theyweresosmall,sodelicate,sodependentonmen.

But we’re all dependent on men, Helen thought. I could only go so far at mycorporationbeforeIhitmyheadontheglassceiling,andIhitithard.

DirectorofHumanResourceswasthetitlewiththemoneyandthepower.ItwasthejobHelenwanted,butitalwayswenttoamanathercompany.Helensettledforsecondbest,theduller,safertitleofbenefitsdirector.Hercareerwasgood,butnotgreat.Butshehadhermarriage.Thenshefoundoutherhusbandhadbetrayedher,andshe’dpickedupthe crowbar thatwreckedher life. In court, the judge, anotherman,decidedher awfulfuture.

Maybewearen’tsodifferentafterall,Helenthought.ButshecouldneversaythattoJuliana’s women. They seemed to know that Helen’s pantyhose had runs in the toesstoppedwithclearnailpolish.Theywouldlookatherself-manicurednailsandfour-year-oldUngarosuitandseenoresemblance.

Precisely at one, Bianca, Brittney, and Tiffany rose gracefully from the silk-satinloveseats.EachwomantoldHelenhowsorryshewastolearnofChristina’sdeath.Eachboughtsomethingforafewhundreddollars—apurseorascarforabelt—asifshewasmakingamemorialdonationinChristina’sname.Thentheyweregone.Helenwonderediftheywouldcomeback.

HelenknewshewasnottherightpersontorunJuliana’s.Therewassomethingwrongwithher.Shehatedneedlesscosmeticsurgery.Helenthoughtmostpeoplelookedbetterwiththeiroriginalface,unlesstheyweredisfigured.Toher,themarksofmaturitywerenotdisfiguring.Theygavepeoplecharacter.Soshetoldtheregularsshedidn’tknowwhodid thebest lipworkandbreast implants.Theyknewshewas lying.ThesewomendidnotwanttohearHelen’slecturesonthedangersofsiliconeandcollagen.

WhenJuliana’sregularswantedbiopolymerinjections,HelendidnottellthemaboutexoticSouthAmericandoctors, likeChristinadid. Instead,Helengave themthephonenumbers of the reporters who investigated the horrific damages. No one took thenumbers.

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The next afternoon, Helen made her worst mistake. It was with Melissa, the littleblondewiththelargeimplantsandthesexy,slightlypoppedgrayeyes.Helenknewshe’dmishandledthewoman,butshefeltshehadtotrytostopher.

“You’vetakenoverforChristina?”Melissaaskedher.Helensaidyes.“Thenyoumusthaveherlistofplasticsurgeons.Ineedmyeyesdone.Ihaveterrible

bags.”HelenlookedatMelissa’ssmoothpaleskin.Itwasflawless.“Howoldareyou,Melissa?”Helenasked.“Twenty-seven,”shesaid.“Youdon’tneedaneyejob,”shesaid.“Yourskinisperfection.”“It’snot,”Melissasaid.Shesqueezedoutonecrystaltear.“Myboyfriendleftmefora

youngerwoman.It’smyeyes.Iknowit.IfmyeyeswereOK,I’dstillhavehim.”“Didyoueverwonderiftheproblemwasnotyourface?”Helensaid.“Whatdoyoumean?”Melissasaid,suddenlyalertandtear-free.“Imean,”Helensaid,“thatyouarebeautiful,butyoudon’tbelieveit.Youcannotsee

yourselfasothersdo.Whyletsomequackcutonyou?Hecouldruinyourlooksforever.Atherapistwouldbelesspainful.”

“Are you calling me crazy?” Melissa’s eyes were not popped now, but hard andnarrowed.

“I’mmerelysuggesting—”Helenbegan.“I’mouttahere,”shesaid.“AndI’mnotcomingback.Idon’thavetolistentosome

nowheresalesclerktellmeI’mcrazy.”Melissastalkedout,slammingthegreendoor.Another customer lost forever, Helen thought. Soon, the sharp-eyed owner would

notice that sales were down. Helen would be out of a job. No one else could takeChristina’splace.Nooneelsehadtherightcombinationofsophisticationandsleaze.

Juliana’swasslowlydying,andHelencouldnotpreventthatdeath,either.

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Chapter22

It was two a.m. and too hot to sleep. Helen didn’t want to turn on the window airconditioner.Itsrattlingwouldonlykeepherawake.Besides,itwasexpensivetorun.Shehadtosavemoney.

Helen got up and slid open the patio door. Cool night air poured into her stuffyapartment.Shestoodinthedoorway,lettingthetropicalnightembraceher.Somethingsweetbloomedinthevelvetydarkandsentoutaheavyperfume.Sheheardsomesmallcreaturerustlinginthefoliage.Unknowninsectssangahigh-pitchedchant.

ThenHelenheardanother,wildersound.Atfirst, shethought itwastwocats.Thenshe realized the wild moans were from Daniel’s apartment. Some woman was havingperfectsexwiththeperfectman.ThestripperwiththeDay-Globra?Orhadhemovedontosomeoneelse?Danielhadnotpromisedtobefaithful.UnlikeRob,herex-husband.

Themoans grew louder, sweeter, andmore excited. She andRob had sounded likethat,longago.LovewithRobhadbeengood,rightupuntilthedayshediscoveredhimwith anotherwoman.Only later did their love feelwrong.Robhad betrayed herwithdozensofwomen,whileHelenfoolishlybelievedhe’dlovedonlyher.WhenHelenfinallyrealizedherhusbandhadbeenunfaithful,shefeltasifacidhadbeenthrownonhersoul.

InSouthFlorida, she seemed tobehealing.Herangerhad faded toadeep,piercingsadness.Herrecoverywasslow,butitwashappening.Aroundsinglemen,Helenstillfeltawkwardasateenager,exceptshehadzitsandwrinkles.

Helenalsofeltlost.Afterseventeenyearsofmarriage,shedidn’tknowtherulesofthedatinggameanymore.Shecouldn’teventellwhenamanwasflirtingwithher.Butshewantedtolearn.

The extravagant cries fromDaniel’s room reached a crescendo.Helen shutherpatiodoorandreturnedtoheremptybed.

ItwasevenhotteratJuliana’sthenextmorning.WhenHelenopenedthegreendoor,shewashitwithablastofwarm,muggyair.

Taratrippedinbehindheronpinkfloweredmules,fanningherself.“FeelslikeSumatrainhere,”shesaid.“Theairconditionermustbebroken.”

“Anothercrisis,”Helensaid.“Abigone,”Tarasaid.“Youcan’tsurviveinSouthFloridawithoutairconditioning.”“Lord,Ihopeitdoesn’tneedmajorrepairs,”Helensaid.“Mr.Rogetwillhittheroof.”“Check the filter first, andmaybeyouwon’thave todealwithOldTightwad,”Tara

said.“Ourairconditioningactsthiswaysometimeswhenthefilterneedschanging.”

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“Cometothinkofit,noone’schangedthefiltersinceIstartedworkinghere,”Helensaid.

Helenopenedtheutilityclosetandstaredattheairconditioner.Itmadeitsusualhum-chugging sound.The large olive greenmachine had pipes snaking all over. Somewerewrappedwithblackfoampaddingandsilverducttape.Allwerethicklylayeredwithdust.Abigsquareventtrailedlongwispsofgraydust,likeanoldman’sbeard.Aboxoffiltersleanedagainsttheairconditioner.ButHelencouldnotseewheretoinstallthefilters.

“Yuck-o,”Tarasaid,steppingbacksoshewouldn’tgetdirtonherpinkoutfit.“Wheredoesthefiltergointhatthing?”

“Beatsme,”Helensaid.“I’mwearingablackpantssuit.I’lltrytochangeit.Youwatchthedoor.There’sapileofmanualsbackinthestockroomforthecashregisterandstuff.MaybeIcanfindonefortheairconditioner.”

Thestockroomwasevenhotter,butHelendidn’tdarecarrytheappliancemanualsintothestoretositontheforbiddenloveseats.

Helen leaned against a stockroom table and started shuffling through the foot-highstack.Shecouldfeelsweattricklingdownherneck.I’llhavetosendthissuittothedrycleaner, she thought resentfully. Mr. Rich Guy Roget will never pick up the tab. Hedoesn’thave toworryaboutmydry-cleaningbills,but I’msupposed to savemoney forhim.

Stopthis.Startlookingforanotherseven-seventy-an-hourjob.Buttheyareallbad,shetoldherself.ThengobacktoSt.Louisandmakerealmoney.Thatwasworse.Helen began shuffling through the stack again. Juliana’s seemed to have saved every

appliancemanualsincethestoreopenedin1965.Thereweremanualsforoutdatedcashregisters,obsoleteclothingsteamers,evenalong-deceasedstereo.

Finally, Helen spotted the instruction booklet for the air conditioner under an oldrefrigeratormanualfrom1972.Thatfridgeprobablyhadbeenjunkedyearsago.WhydidChristinakeepthesethings?

TherefrigeratormanualslippedoutofHelen’ssweatyhand,andapinkflyerfellout.Withanearlynakedwomanonit.

Whoa!ShewaswaytoohotforaFrigidaire.The flyer looked like the sort that Las Vegas prostitutes slipped under hotel room

doors.Helenhad seen themwhen she attended aCPA convention inVegas years ago,beforeitbecameaso-calledfamilygamblingcenter.Themaleconvention-goerslaughedandsnickeredlikeschoolboysattheflyers’innuendoes.Helenwasfascinatedbytheads.Whereshecamefrom,prostitutesdidn’tadvertiselikepizzaparlors.

Thisflyersaid“LetJasmineshowyouthesecretsoftheOrient.”Thewoman in the flyerwas showingmost ofher secrets already.Shewas a slender,

full-breastedAsianwithlongdarkhair.Jasmine’smouthwasopenandpouty.Herbreastsandbuttockswerethrustout,boldandinviting.Shewasbothsubmissiveandbrazen.ItwasclearwhatJasminewasselling:Thestringbikinicoveredalmostnothing.

Itcertainlydidn’thidethefactthatthiswasamuchyoungerTara.

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Helenstaredattheflyer,untiladropofsweatploppedonthepaper.Maybeshe’dmadeamistake.Butthephotographwasclearandsharp.TherewasnodoubtthiswasayoungerTara.Thefacewasalittlerounder.Thebreastswerealittlehigher.Thehairwasjustaslongandblack.Toobad,Helenthought,shehadn’tusedthatcurtainofhairtohideherface.

Therewassomethingwrittenontheflyerinblackink:“LoveWillKeepUsTogether.”Itdidn’tlooklikeTara’shandwriting.Tara’sscriptwasassmallanddelicateasshewas.

Besides,shelikedtodotheri’swithtinyhearts.No,thatbolddarkscrawlwasChristina’s.Butwhywouldshewrite“LoveWillKeepUsTogether”ontheflyer?Whatdiditmean?Wasitaslogan?Orasongtitle?

Helenwastoohotandsweatytofigureanythingoutinthatairlessroom.She’dfixtheairconditionerfirst.Maybeshecouldthinkbetterwhenshecooleddown.

Helenhidtheflyerunderthestackofmanualsandbeganreadingthefilter-changinginstructions.ShefoundthePhillipsscrewdriver,unscrewedthedust-beardedventontheairconditioner.Inside,thefilterlookedlikeitwaswearinganinch-thickblanketofgrayfelt.Bigwadsofdarkfluffandmoundsofdirtspilledoutbehindit.Nowondertheairconditionerwasn’tworking.

Helenchangedthe filter,vacuumedthevent insideandout,andwhile shewasat it,cleanedthewholeutilitycloset.Allthewhile,shethoughtaboutTara.

ChristinahadfoundoutTarahadbeenaprostituteandhiddentheproofinthestore.WassheblackmailingTara?HowmuchmoneywasTarapayingtokeepherpastquiet?Andwhy...?

“Youfixedit!”Tarasaid.“Coolairiscomingout.Thestoreshouldbeliveableprettysoon.”

Tara stood silhouetted in the stockroom doorway, a small, slender woman in afashionably fringed skirt and a shoulder-baring top.Her pinkmuleswere embroideredwithflowers.Herlonghairwassoftandshining.Herskinglowed.Shelookedsweetandvulnerable,unlikethebrazentartintheflyer.Tarahadreinventedherself.

“What’swrong?”Tarasaid.“Youlooklikeyou’veseenaghost.”Helenreached for the flyer.“YouwereaLasVegas . . . sexworker?” she said,proud

she’drememberedthepoliticallycorrecttermforhooker.ShecouldseeTara’sbodytense,asifshewereturningtostone.“Yes,”shesaid,defiant

butalsoafraid.“So?”“IsthatwhereyoumetPaulie?”“God,no.HethinksI’mamail-orderbridefromThailand.Hepaidafortunetoget

mehere.Ibankeditall.”“You’rekidding,”Helensaid.“Pauliethinksyou’refromThailand?WiththatMidwest

accent?Whereareyoufrom—Chicago?”“Cleveland.ItoldhimI’dlistenedtoBerlitztapes,”Tarasaid.“Andhebelievedyou?”“Menbelievewhat theywant tobelieve, especiallywhen it comes to sex,”Tara said.

“I’mthefantasywomanhe’salwayswanted—exotic,quiet,submissive.Pauliereallywantsahooker,buthedoesn’tknowit.Igivehimwhathewants.HegivesmewhatIwant—moneyandsecurity.He’ddropmelikeahotpotatoifheknewmypast.HethinksIwas

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avirginwhenwemet.”“HowmuchwasChristinablackmailingyoufor?”Helensaid,decidingtobluff.“I paid her two thousand amonth,” Tara said. “Recently, she wanted to raise it to

twenty-fivehundreddollars.Icouldbarelymakethetwothousand,evenwithallPauliegaveme.Iwasdesperate.”

“That’s why you faked that robbery,” Helen said. “You were looking for this flyer,weren’tyou?”

“Yes,butIwasalsolookingforsomephotos.Shehaspicturesofmewithmyclients...doingthings.Sheshowedmetheflyerfirst,andIlaughedandsaidflyerscouldbefaked.Thenitwasherturntolaugh.ShesaidshehadsomephotographsPauliewouldlovetosee.”

“Photoscanbefaked,too,”saidHelen.“Not these,” Tara said, sadly. “I saw them.They’re real. I searched the store, but I

couldn’tfindtheflyerorthephotosanywhere.ThesearchtooklongerthanIexpected.Icouldn’texplaintoPauliewhyIwassolate.”

“Whynot?Youcouldhavesaidyouweredelayedbyanaccidentontheroad.”“Youdon’tknowPaulie.He’ssojealous,he’dcheck.HecallsmycellphoneifI’mhalf

anhourlate.”“Soyoutossedsomeclothesaround,hityourforeheadonthewall,andmadeupthe

storyaboutthetwomenwithguns,”Helensaid.Taranodded,thecurtainofhairslidingacrossherface.“Don’t worry,” said Helen. “I won’t tell the police about the break-in unless I

absolutelyhaveto.”Formysake,shethought,notyours.“Ididn’tkillChristina,”Tarasaid.“Youbelieveme,don’tyou?I’dbecrazytokillher

beforeIfoundoutwhereshestashedthosephotos.Ifthepolicefindthem,I’mintrouble.That’swhyIcamebacktoworkhere,toseeiftheyturnedupanywhere.”

“IthoughtyouandChristinawerefriends,”Helensaid.“Westartedoffthatway.Friends,Imean.Thensheshowedmethephotosandasked

formoney.IwasafraidshewouldtellPaulieandruineverything.SoIpretendedwewerestill friends. Itwasn’t toohard. IpretendedwithPaulie, too.Mostof the time, IcouldforgetwhatChristinawasdoing.”

Tarasaiditwithoutbitterness.Helenwonderedifshewasfakingthat,too.“Wheredidyoufindtheflyer?”Taraasked.“In the filter box,”Helen lied. “Do you knowwhat ‘LoveWill KeepUs Together’

means?”“It’sasongbyCaptain&Tennille,isn’tit?Anoldone.”Sheshrugged.Obviously,it

meantnothingtoher.“AreyougoingtotellPaulie?”Tarasaid.“Areyougoingtoruintheonlygoodthing

I’vegot?”“No,Tara,”Helentoldher.“Yourpastisyourown.”UnlessyoukilledChristina,shetoldherself.

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Chapter23

DidTarakillChristina?Christinahadpreyedonherfriend,bleedingherformoney,monthaftermonth.Tara

hadtopretendtheywerestillfriendstokeepherprivilegedlife.Shewouldonlybefreeifshehadthosephotos.Tarawassodesperate,shebeatherheadagainstthewalluntilshebled,thenmadeupthestoryofthearmedintruders.

ButTarastilldidn’thavethephotos.SheneededChristinaalive.HelencouldseeafrustratedTarabeatingChristinatodeathwithsomethingheavylike

atire iron.Butshecouldn’tseetinyTarastuffingthedeadbodyintoabarrelandthenluggingtheheavybarrelouttoBiscayneBay.

Tara seemed so delicate, so fragile. But delicate Tara could carry huge armsful ofclothestothedressingrooms.FragileTaracouldliftbigboxesofstock.Tarawasstrongasastevedore.

Helenwanted to findChristina’skiller.Shewas tiredofbeingafraid.ShewasafraidDetectiveDwightHanselwoulddiscoverherpast.But shedidn’twant thekiller tobeTara.ShelikedTara,despiteheroccasionaloutbreaksofsilliness.

ButhowcouldHelenunravelthismess?Shehadnodetectingskills.Shedidn’tknowthemeaning of themysterious words on Tara’s flyer, “LoveWill KeepUs Together.”Theycouldbeaslogan,asong,acode.OranoteChristinajotteddownthathadnothingtodowithanything.

Maybe the key was hidden in those appliance manuals. Maybe there were moreblackmailvictims.ButeverytimeHelenslippedbacktothestockroom,thedoorbellrang,andshehadmorecustomers.

Helensoonsawanysearchwashopelesswhilethestorewasopen.She’dwaituntilthisevening.Shewasitchingtoreadthoseappliancemanuals.Shehadtoknowifthereweremorejuicysecretsburiedinthosedrypages.

Thewaitwasalmostunendurable.ItgrewworsewhenthelastpersonHelenwantedtoseewalkedintoJuliana’s—Niki.ThewomanwhopaidforthemurderofDesireeEasleenow flashedherwedding ring like a trophy. She’dwon, althoughHelendidnot thinkJimmytheShirtwasanyprize.

Thebridewore black, a good color for a killer.EvenHelenhad to admit thatNikimadearadiantbride,untilyougotclose.Thenhermouthwasbitter,andhereyeswerehard. But the Playboy non-centerfold finally had a man. Helen wondered if he couldendureherperfumeuntildeathpartedthem.

“I justheard aboutChristina,”Niki cooed. “It’s so terrible.Shewouldhavebeen so

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happytoknowthatJimmyandIaremarried.”“IthoughtJimmywasgoingtomarryDesiree,”Helensaid.Shecouldn’tresist.“Shedied,”Nikisaid,shortly.Theperfumecloudaroundherquivered.“Shewasmurdered,wasn’tshe?”Helensaid.“Itmusthavebeenashockwhenyousaw

thereportsonTV.”“Ididn’t.IwasdevastatedwhenJimmy...well,whenJimmyandIsplitup.Iwent

hometoMother.IspentthewholemonthinAthens.”“Georgia?” Helen said. Niki could have driven from Georgia to Florida and back

withoutleavingatrace.“Greece,”Nikisaid.Thatwouldbealittletougher.“IflewstraightbackwhenIheardaboutthecarjacking.PoorJimmywassolonely.He

threw himself into my arms and said he still loved me. He admitted Desiree was amistake.Hewantedtogetmarriedrightaway,sowe’dneverbeapartagain.Wegotourlicense andwent to a judge, then caught aplane toCostaRica.We’vebeen there eversinceonourhoneymoon.”

CleverNikiwastellingHelenshehadanalibiforbothDesireeandChristina.“HowwasCostaRica?”Helenasked.Nikiwrinkledhernose.“Fullofbugs.ButIdon’tcare.I’msohappy.”Herlipstwisted

intoaLadyMacbethsmile.Whatwomanwouldmarryamanrightafterhisfiancéewasburied?Thewomanwhohiredherkiller.Jimmy was another gem. His bride-to-be was brutally murdered, days before their

wedding.Hercoffinwasbarelyundergroundbeforehemarriedanotherwoman.Jimmyhadnotbotheredtomournhisfiancéeoneweek.The“mistake”hadbeenerased.

NikiandJimmydeservedeachother.HelenwasgladwhenNikifinallyleftJuliana’s,even though the bride didn’t buy anything. Her perfume lingered like an accusation.Helenfeltlikeairingoutthestore.

The day crawled forward. Helen and Tara dragged clothes in and out of dressingrooms.Customersdroppedten-thousand-dollargownsonthe floor, leftHermesscarvesdrapedoverchairs,andabandonedbeltsoncounters.Theyboughtalmostnothing.Itwassix-twentywhenthelastcustomerleftJuliana’s.

Tarahadbeenpaleandsubduedallday.ShedidnotspeaktoHelen,excepttoaskthepriceof aVersace shirt.NowTara said, “Iguessyouwon’twantmeworkinghereanymore.”

“Why?”Helensaid.“NowthatyouknowwhatIam,”Tarasaid.“I know you’re a good saleswoman, and I expect you here at ten in themorning,”

Helensaid.“Whydon’tyougohomebeforePauliestartsworrying?I’llcloseup.”“Thanks,”Tara said, andmanaged aweak smile. But she left as if shewas escaping

fromjail.PoorTara, trying livedownher long-buriedpast.Shemusthavedreadedthedayitwouldbeunearthed.Helenknewhowshefelt.Shehadherownsecrets.

Helen locked thedoor, closedout the cash register, andput themoney in thenightsafe.Aloneatlast.

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The stack of appliancemanualswas sitting in the stockroom, safe and dull as a potroast.Helenpagedthroughtelephonebooklets,securitysystemmanuals,andlightfixtureinstructions.Sheshookeachoneandfannedthepages.

Shefoundsixthings,buttheywerehardlyfodderforblackmailers.Theywereharmlessarticles.Fivewerethesortofstoriesproudmothersshowedtheirbridgeclubs.Thesixthwasaroutinenewsstory.

Helen found the first storyhidden in a computermanual.Thepill-poppingVenetiawas“LocalMotherofYear”intheGoldenShoresGazette.Shewaspraisedasthe“spiritofGoldenShoresvolunteerism,”whoraisedhalfamilliondollars for thechildren’shome.“Butshe’salsothebusymotheroftwolittleboys,”thearticleoozed.

Venetia’s Adolfo suit could have come from Nancy Reagan’s closet. Helen wassurprisedhowattractiveVenetialookedwhenshewasn’ttwitching.

The puzzle was Christina’s bold, black writing on this clipping. She’d scrawled“MotherandChildReunion.”Definitelyasongtitle,aPaulSimonhitfromthe1970s.

Whatdidthatmean?Whyhidethisstoryinacomputermanual?Itcouldnotpossiblybeblackmailmaterial.

Next, Helen found a newsletter for a Wichita nursing home. The Sunny GablesMonthlyhadnamedCindyPrettersasEmployeeoftheYear.

Despitethebighairandbadmakeup,HelencouldseethatCindywasTiffany,beforehereyejob.Cindy/Tiffany’sbaggyuniformwasafarcryfromtheclothessheworenow,boughtbyherricholdboyfriend,Burt.

Eventenyearsago,Tiffanyhadaknackforpleasingoldermen.Shewasphotographedwithfournursinghomeresidents.ThethreeelderlymenlookedatTiffanylikeshe’djustlet them into heaven. Tiffany’s charm seemed to escape the only other woman in thepicture.Mrs.VeraCrinklaw,ageninety-two,staredstoicallyintothecamera,asifshe’dbeenforcedtoattendatgunpoint.

ChristinahadscrawledanothersongtitleontheSunnyGablesMonthly:“SilverThreadsAmongtheGold.”Helen’sgrandmother likedtosingthat song.Itwasevenolder thantheCaptain&Tennillehit.

Thatwastwoarticles.In a booklet for a battery-operated clock,Helen found the third: aPeople magazine

story about the supermodel Sharmayne. She was photographed at an animal shelterbenefit hugging her German shepherd, Big Boy. Sharmayne was at the height of hercareer and her beauty. The disastrous liposuction was another year away. But despiteSharmayne’sstunninglooks,itwasBigBoywhostolethephoto.HemadeRin-Tin-Tinlook like the runtof the litter.His furwas glossy,hisbearingnoble,his eyes alert andintelligent.NowonderSharmaynetoldthemagazine“BigBoyismymainman.”

Christina’sblackslashingwritingwasonthisstory,too.ItwasaNickLowesong,“TheBeastinMe.”

The fourthwas a business article announcing thatChristina’s ex-boyfriend, Joe, hadpaid six hundred thousand dollars for a five-thousand-square-footwarehouse near PortEverglades.Thisstorywassoboring,Helencouldhardlyreadittotheend.

Inthemargin,Christinahadwritten“GottaServeSomebody.”ABobDylanhit?Thismadenosensewhatsoever.

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Storynumber fivewashidden in the instructions for store shelving. Itwas anarticlefromChicagolandHi-Life,amagazinedevotedtorichpeople’sparties.

“Chocolate Lovers Bash Sweetens Charity,” the sugary headline said, but it was thephoto that captured Helen’s attention. It starred another Juliana’s regular, Niki, theperfumedbridefromhell,withfourfemalepartygoers.Thebenefitwasatalavishhouse,andthefourwomendrippeddiamonds.OnlyNikihadnojewelry.Sheoutshonethemallinasimpleblackdress.

Christinahadwritten“DiamondsAreaGirl’sBestFriend.”Whyusethisclichédshowtune?

ThelastarticlewasashortnewsstoryaboutthedeathofBrittney’sfiancé,Steve.Thestory said his bodyhad been found by a boater in a canal near the Seventeenth StreetBridge.

The couple was to be married in June. The story said the medical examiner found“significant amounts” of alcohol in the deceased’s blood. Steve’s death was ruled anaccident,butHelencouldseehowthesuicidewhispershadstarted.

Christina had written “Tiny Bubbles” on this story, Don Ho’s ode to a bottle ofbubbly.Itwasameanchoiceforamanwhogotdrunkanddrowned.

Helenlookedthroughthestackofmanualsagainbutfoundnothingelse.Itwasalmosteighto’clockwhensheleftthestore.Onthewalkhome,Helenpuzzledoverthearticlesandsongtitles.Theywereaneclecticcollection,fromNickLowetoDonHo.Ifthiswasacode,itwasbeyondHelen.

Shehadbeensearchingfortwohours.Helenknewlessthanwhenshestarted.ShehadnotfoundTara’sblackmailphotos.

WheredidChristinahidethem?Thepolicehadalreadysearchedherpenthouse.Didthatmeanthephotosweren’tthere?Didthepolicemissthehidingspot?Ordidtheyhavethephotos,andtheyweren’ttellingHelen?No, ifDwightHanselhadthosephotos,hewouldnotmissanopportunitytotormenther.

Tarahadsearchedthestoreandfoundnothing.ItwasHelenwhostumbledontheLasVegasflyerbyaccident.

HowmanyothersecretsdidJuliana’shold?ThesequestionsbuzzedaroundHelenlikegnats,irritatingherandrefusingtogoaway.

WhenshefinallygottotheCoronado,Helenwentoutbythepool,lookingforPeggyorMargery.Shewantedtodiscussherfinds,butneitherwomanwashome.

Instead, Daniel and Cal the Canadian were talking at the picnic table. Daniel wasbarechested, andhis tannedabs looked like they’dbeenbronzed.His cobalt eyeshadawicked slant in the twilight.His long hair tumbled downhis shoulders like black silk.Nexttohim,Calseemedoldandshrunken,juicelessandusedup.

“Yes,sir,”Danielwassaying.“IagreethattheAmericanmedicalsystemleavesmuchtobedesired.ButI’mnotconvincedtheCanadiansystemisacure-all.IreadthatinsomeCanadianhospitals,patientslieinthehallwaysbecausetherearen’tenoughbeds.Isthattrue?”

Danielwassowellmannered,Helenthought.MostCoronadoresidentswalkedawaywhen Cal started lecturing on the joys of Canada, but Daniel listened patiently andansweredthoughtfully.

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CalgrowledananswerHelencouldn’tquitehear.“It’sbeenapleasuretalkingtoyou,sir,”Danielsaid.“Seeyoulater.”

HelenwatchedDanielwalk to theparking lot.Hismusclesmoved likeoiledcoilsofsteel.Danielwasbarelyoutofearshot,whenCalsaid,“‘Sir’!Hesays‘yessir’and‘nosir.’Tome!”Calkickedthepicnictablewithhissandaledfoot.

“But,Cal,you’realwayscomplainingthatAmericansarenotaspoliteasCanadians,”Helen said. She enjoyed tweaking Cal. He still had not paid back the money he’d“borrowed”forthatdisastrousdinneratCatfishDewey’s.

“Buthecalledme‘sir,’”Calsaid.“Hemakesmefeellikehisgrandfather.”Well,youlooklikehisgrandfather,Helenwantedtosay.Butshedidn’t,provingthat

AmericanswerepoliterthanCalthought.

Thegreendoordidnotopenquitesooftenthesedays.Customersweredriftingaway,asHelen feared. But not Juliana’s small group of regulars. They kept coming back andaskingtheoddestquestions.

“Did Christina give you an envelope with my name on it?” asked Sharmayne, theformersupermodel.ShewaltzedinthatSaturdaymorninganddisdainfullydemandedtospeaktoHelen.

“No,”Helensaid.“Youmusthaveitsomewhere,”Sharmaynesaid.“Lookagain.”Shetossedhermaneof

hairlikeanimpatientpony.“I don’t have it,”Helen repeated firmly, andSharmayneknew she’dbeen rude. She

triedhersoftestsmile,theoneusuallyreservedforrichmen.“Christinawasgoingtosendmesomethingrightbeforeshedied.Ineverreceivedit,so

itmuststillbeatthestore.”“Maybeitwasatherhome,”Helensaid.“Inthatcase,hersisterLorrainewouldhave

it,orthepolice.”Sharmayneblanched.“No,” she said.“Iknow it’shere. Ifyou findanenvelopewith

mynameonit,sendittome.Don’topenit,please.”Don’topenit?Sharmaynesawhersilenceasstonewalling.“TherewillbearewardifIgetthatletter

unopened,”shesaid.“Abigreward.Verybig.”SharmaynewalkedthroughJuliana’s,pointingatclothesuntilshehadpickedoutmore

than the averagewoman spentonherself in a year.Helen carried them to thedressingroom.Sharmaynestrippedoffhershirtandbeganunbuttoningherlow-risejeans.Helenfled.Shecouldn’tstandanotherlookatthoseruinedthighswiththeliposuctionscars.

This time, Sharmayne bought. She wanted all the splendid, splashy things, but sheseemedtobuythemmoretostayonHelen’sgoodsidethanbecausesheenjoyedthem.

Tiffanywiththebadeyejobwasthefirstregular,butnotthelast,tobringHelen“alittlepresent.”ShegaveHelensilverElsaPerettiearringsfromTiffany’s“becauseIwantyoutobemyfriend.”

NikihadgivenHelenaMovadowatchwithacharmingnote:“Timewewerefriends.”She told Helen, “I’d like to have the same relationship with you that I had with

Christina.”Niki’swordsglitteredwithunspokenmeaningandlingeredlongafterHelen

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gotherperfumestinkoutof thestore.Doesshewantmeto findheranotherhitman?Helenwondered.ChristinadidnothavetimetoblackmailNikiaboutDesiree’sdeath,ifsheinfactarrangedit.Somethingelsewasgoingon.

The presentsmadeHelen uneasy, but she kept them. They were nomore than tipmoneyforthesewomen.Shecouldpawnthewatchandearringsifsheeverneededcashfast.

Christinahadsomethingonallofyou,Helenthought.Ican’tfigureoutwhat.ButI’dbetterfindoutsoon.

TaradidnotofferHelenbribesorpresents.SheseemedgratefulforHelen’ssilenceandher acceptance. She worked even harder. She followed Helen around the store like apuppy.Helenknewitwasn’tjustgratitudethatkeptTaraatherside.Tarawantedthoseincriminatingphotos,andshewouldnotletHelenoutofhersightuntiltheyturnedup.

The only person Helen didn’t hear from was Venetia, Mother of the Year and PillPopperoftheDecade.HelenfiguredVenetiahadfoundanewpusherandwastwitchingsomewhereelse.

Shewas surprisedwhen Joe,Christina’s ex-boyfriend, called that Saturday afternoonandaskedifChristinahadleftanythingforhim.

“Likewhat,Joe?”Helensaid.“Apackage,anenvelope,abox,Idunno.ButIknowshewasgoingtogiveittome.So

youfindanythingwithmynameonit,youcallmedayornight,noproblemo,andI’llpickitup.And,Helen,therewillbeareward.Abigone,youknowwhatImean?”

“I’msorry,Joe,butIhaven’tfoundanything.”“Shehadsomethingforme,”hesaid.“Iwantit.Now.”Joemust have realized that sounded like a threat, because he softened hiswords. “I

mean,Imissher,anditwouldbenicetohavesomewaytorememberher.Wewerekindaengaged.”

“Exceptyoudumpedher,”Helensaid.“Ifsheleftyouapackage,I’dopenitcarefully.Ifitticks,itmaynotbeawatch.”

“She always said you were great with the jokes,” Joe said. “We split, but it was amisunderstanding.I...Ilovedher.”Hemanagedatearythrobinhisvoice.

Right. You really loved Christina, she thought. That’s why you have never saidChristina’sname,just“she”and“her.”

Joe’svoicegrewsofter,morepersuasive. Itoozedthroughthephone likehoney.Thereceiverfeltsticky.“Look,Helen,letmelevelwithyou.Thatcop,DwightHandel—”

“Hansel,”Helensaid.“Yeah,him.He’sonmelikewhiteonrice.HethinksIkilledher.”“Whyyou?”Helensaid.“Aren’tbodiesinbarrelsmobhits?”“The FBI said this was not a mob hit. It was made to look like one. They’re not

interestedinit.ButthisDwightHandel—”“Hansel,”Helensaidagain.“Whatever.He’sdefinitelyinterestedinme.I’vehadtogetalawyer.I’mnotsupposed

tobetalkingaboutthis,butI’vegottohavethatpackage.Imean,itlikeclearsmyname.”Sureitdoes.“Don’tyouhaveanalibiforthetimeChristinadied?”shesaid,fishingformorefacts.

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“That’s just it,” he said. “The police can’t tell exactlywhen shewas killed. Shewaskinda messed up after being in that leaky barrel for about a week. She was verydecompressed.”

“Decomposed,”Helensaid.“That, too. They coulda figured it out by the stomach contents, but she didn’t eat

nothing.”Andwho’sfaultwasthat?Helenwondered.“AlltheycansayforsureisithappenedsometimebetweenSaturdayaftersheleftthe

shopandMondaymorning.Idon’thaveanalibi.Iwasalonethewholeweekend,kickingback,watchingvideosanddrinkingbeer.”

Joe never spent any time by himself, if he could help it. Helen knew that. Everyweekend,heandChristinaandacarloadof friendswent to theSouthBeachclubs.Hecouldn’tstandtobealone.Hemighthearhisemptyheadrattle.

“Thepolice think shewasprobablykilled sometimeSaturdayafter shegotoffwork,though,becauseshegotherlastcellphonecallatsix-twenty-two.”

“WhocalledChristina?”“Me,”Joesaid.

HelenwasrelievedwhenBrittneycameintoJuliana’saboutfourthatafternoon.Shewaswearing somethingwhite anddrifting thatmadeher look like a lovely lost soul.Whitewasthecolorofmourninginsomecultures.ItcertainlylookedmournfulonBrittney.

Brittneywasdifferentfromtheothers.Therewerenooddovertones,nopresents,nooffers of money if Helen found any letters or packages. She wanted to talk aboutChristina.HelenthoughtBrittneysincerelygrievedforher friend,althoughshedidnotlooksad.Howcouldshe?Brittneycouldshownoemotion.

ShewastheonlyonewhoseemedtocareifChristina’skillerwascaught.“It’s just terrible aboutChristina,”Brittney said, her voice soft and fluttery asmoth

wings.“Whatarethepolicedoingaboutit?”“Theysearchedherhouse.Thentheysearchedthestore,”Helensaid.“Theyfindanything?”sighedBrittney.Itsoundedsohopelesswhenshesaidit.“Theyfoundnothing,”Helensaid.ButIdid,shethought.

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Chapter24

TarasnappedonMonday.Itwasalmostclosingtimewhenshebeganscreaming.NocustomerswereinJuliana’s.

Helenwasgratefulforthat.Helenwassteamingthewrinklesoutofthenewstock,ahot,mindlessjobthathadto

bedonebeforeshecouldgohome.Suddenly,Tarashrieked,“PutonanotherCD!Ican’tlistento10,000Maniacstenthousandtimes.”

Tara’sjawwasclenched,andsowereherhands.Herrigidarmslookedliketheywereclampedtoherbodywithironbands.10,000Maniacscouldsoundalittlemonotonousifyouwere in thewrongmood.ButHelendidn’t think it shouldprovokea reaction likethat.ThestrainofthoseblackmailpicturesmustbegettingtoTara.

“Sorry,Ituneditout,”Helensaid.“I’llfindsomethingelse.”ThestorehadmorethantwohundredfortyCDsintwotalltowers,butthesamesix

seemedtogetplayedoverandover.TheCDsatthebottomofthetowerswerethickwithdust.Helen reacheddownandpulledoutBillboard’sTopHits 1975-1979.Nowonderthatonewasneverplayed.Thesewerestrictlymoldyoldies.WhowantedtohearCaptain&Tennille?

Helenwasabouttoshoveitbackintotherackwhenshestopped.Oneofthoseancienthitswas“LoveWillKeepUsTogether.”ThesongonTara’sflyer.

Helen opened the plastic CD case. Inside was the usual paper insert. It looked toothick.Shepulleditoutandopenedit.Foldedinsidewerethreephotos.

Tarawas inabig roundbedwith twomenandawoman.The fourwere so tangledtogether,Helengotdizzytryingtofigureoutwhowasdoingwhattowhom.

TheotherwomanwasAfrican-American,withabeautifulbody.Helencouldnot seeher face.Themenwere flabbyandwhiteasmushrooms.Helencouldn’t identify them,either,althoughonehadanimpressiveheadofwhitehair.Theotherwasbaldasababy,buthewasdoingverygrown-upthings.

OnlyTarawas clearly visible.All ofTara.And shewasdefinitelynot a virginbride.“LoveWillKeepUsTogether”wasChristina’snastylittlejoke.SheknewthesepictureswoulddestroyPaulie’sloveandsplitthecoupleforever.

“Findanything?”Taracalledbacktothestoreroom.Shesoundedcalmer.“HowaboutlisteningtoAndreaBocelli?”Helenasked.ItwasoneofthesamesixCDs

theyalwaysplayed.“Sure,”Tarasaid.“Alittleoperawillclassuptheplace.”She’ll be backhere any second,Helen thought. She shoved thephotos into theCD

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case,andbrushedoffherskirtHelendidnotdaretellTaratogohomeearly.Shewouldbesuspicious.Instead, the

twowomen closed the store together as usual.Tarawent toher car, andHelen set offwalkinginthedirectionoftheCoronadoapartments.ShewaiteduntilshesawTaradrivetowardthehighwayanddisappearfromview.

OnlythendidHelenturnaroundandgobacktoJuliana’s.Sheturnedoffthealarmsystemandthesecuritycameras.Back inthestockroom,shestrippedoffher jacketandkneltbeforethefirstCDtower.

HelenpulledaCDfromthebottomoftherackandsawherfingerprintsinthedustonthecase.Shecouldnotleavefingerprintsonblackmailevidence.OhGod,she’dalreadyleftfingerprints.Howcouldshebesodumb?

HelenfoundapapertowelandcleanedtheCaptain&TennilleCDinsideandoutandthenwiped the liner and thephotos,hoping shehadn’t left anypartialprintson somestraycorner.

Ineedgloves,shethought.ButwhoworeglovesinSouthFlorida?Wait.Therewereglovesinthestore.Helenopenedtheseconddrawerintheaccessory

cabinet and pulled out a pair of white kid twelve-button gloves. Juliana’s customersoccasionally needed them for formal evenings.Helen rolled up her blouse sleeves, andcarefully pulled on the longwhite gloveswith the tiny pearl buttons. At Juliana’s, shethought,yousearchedinstyle.

When she found thenext setofphotos,Helenwasglad shewaswearinggloves.Shedidn’twanttotouchthem.Theyrepelledher,andyetshecouldnotstoplookingatthem.

Helen also understood why Sharmayne wanted her to send that envelope withoutopening it. The supermodel was wrong. Christina had not put those photos in anenvelope.TheywereinaNickLoweCDwithasongcalled“TheBeastinMe.”

ThephotosofSharmaynewiththathandsomedogBigBoygavenewmeaningtothetermanimallover.

Niki’s crime seemedmild in comparison.Theblackmail evidencewashidden in thecastrecordingofGentlemenPreferBlondes,whichhad thatold showstopper“DiamondsAreaGirl’sBestFriend.”InsidewasacopyofNiki’sarrestrecordandashortnewsstory.Her mug shot lacked the air-brushed perfection of Playboy photography. Niki lookedstunnedanddesperate.

Nikihadbeenarrestedforburglary.Shewenttothepartieswherethewomendrippeddiamonds and figuredoutwhichoneshad jewelryworth stealing.Then shepassed thisinformationontotwoprofessionalburglars.Nikihad“cooperatedwiththeauthorities,”thenewsstorysaid,andreceivedprobation.Nikisoldoutherfriendstoavoidprison.

Diamonds were her best friend. Niki was not loyal to her accomplices. Both weresentencedtofifteenyears.

After Sharmayne,Niki’s sin seemed human and forgivable. ButNiki’s new husbandwouldnotbetakinghertoanydiamond-studdedStarIslandpartiesifitwasknownshelikedtohelpjewelthieves.Infact,theweddingmightnothavecomeoffatall,whetherDesireewas dead or alive. Jimmy the Shirtmight have a dubious reputation, but he’dwanthiswifetobeabovereproach.

Tara.Sharmayne.Niki.Threesongtitlesdown.Fourtogo.

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Helen opened one CD after another before she found the Paul Simon album with“Mother and Child Reunion.” By now Helen had caught on to Christina’s ugly littlejokes.Thisonewouldbebad.

Itwas.Venetia, theMotherof theYear,wasphotographedwithaboyabout twelve,andshewasnotholdinghishand.Helenwantedtogag.Howcouldanywomandothatwithsomeonesoyoung?Theboywasn’tevenattractive.Hisnakednessmadehimseemnewlyhatched.

HelenwonderedifthephotoswereVenetia’sideaortheboy’sandhowtheyfellintoChristina’s hands. Maybe Christina paid the kid for them. What did she give him—moneyordrugs?HelenclosedtheCDcase,onceagaingratefulforthegloves.

Helenfoundonemoresetofphotosthatnight.Shealmostoverlookedthem,buttheoddCDtitlecaughthereye:CelticHarponthePrairie.HelencouldnotimagineJuliana’sSouthBeachclubsetlisteningto“BeautifulDreamer.”Ithadn’tbeenahitinahundredyears.ButthenHelennoticedanotherharpsongwas“SilverThreadsAmongtheGold.”Christinahadscrawledthatsametitleonthenursinghomenewsletter.

HelenopenedtheCDcasegingerly,bracingherselfforanotherstomach-turningsight.Whenshesawamugshotandanarrestrecord,shesighedwithrelief.

Twogoldwatches, aMontBlancpen valued at six hundreddollars, and adiamondpendantworth three thousandwere reported stolen fromresidentsat theSunnyGablesnursing home. Police found these items in a car belonging to Employee of the YearCindy,nowknownasTiffanywiththebadeyejob.Inthemugshot,Tiffanylookedflat-facedwithshock.Herblondhairwasstraggly,andhereyeswerebloodshot.Helensawnotraceofthebig-bustedblondbeautywhoboughtsomuchatJuliana’s.

Theowners of thepen and thewatches refused topress charges after their valuableswerereturned.ButMrs.VeraCrinklawwasdeterminedtoseeTiffanyincourtoverthetheft of her diamond pendant. Helen remembered Mrs. C. from the nursing homenewsletter. She had refused to be charmed byTiffany. She knew there was somethingwrongaboutthelittleslyboots,andshewantedpublicvindication.

Alas,Mrs.C. diedof pneumonia beforeTiffany’s trial.Herheir considered the caseclosed when he got the pendant back. Tiffany thought she’d got away with it, untilChristina.IfTiffany’sricholdboyfriendBurteverdiscoveredherpast,shecouldkisshimgood-bye.

Helennowhadfivegoodreasonsforblackmail.AndfivegoodreasonstokillChristina.Shewonderedwhat blackmail evidenceChristina had on Joe. She hadn’t found any

DylanCDswith“YouGottaServeSomebody.”NorhadsheseenanysignofDonHo’s“TinyBubbles.”

HelenstillhadanotherCDtowertosearch,butshehadtoleave.ItwasalmosttimeforthebirthdaycalltohermotherinSt.Louis.ShewouldbefranticifHelendidn’tcallontime.SheputalltheincriminatingevidencebackintheCDtower.Shethoughtitwasthesafestplace.

Helenfeltleadenandtiredonthewalkhome.She’dseentoomuch.Shehadnothingto look forward to tonightbuta talkwithhermother filledwith tearsand regrets.Shestripped off her suit, put on some cutoffs, and sat down on the bed. It squeakedmournfully.Shecheckedherwatch.Twentyminutestogo.She’dbettergetthesuitcase

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fromMargery.That’swhereshehidthecellphone.MargerywastalkingonthephoneandhandedthesuitcasetoHelenwithoutaword.

On theway back,Helen lingered in thewarm evening. Palm trees rustled their sultrysong. The air was soft and warm and scented with ocean salt and swimming poolchlorine. The setting sun turned the pool a pearly pink. Purple bougainvillea petalsfloatedonthewater.

ItwassohopelesslyromanticthatHelenwishedforjustaminuteshewasstillmarriedtoRobandtheywerealoneinthewaterandhewascoveringhermouthwithwetchlorinekisses.Robwasagoodkisser.

ThensherememberedtheAugustafternoonshecamehomefromworkearly,hopingRobwoulddojustthatintheirpoolinSt.Louis.Instead,shefoundherhusbandkissingtheirlittleblondneighborSandy.That’swhenshe’dpickedupthecrowbarandchangedeverything.

Well,therewasnothingHelencoulddoaboutthatnow.Itwasalmostseveno’clock.Timeforthecallhome.Helenwentinside,lockedthedoors,andclosedtheblinds.Thensherootedaroundintheoldladyunderwearuntilshefoundthecellphoneandthepieceofpinkcellophane.Shedialedthenumber.

“Happybirthday,Mom,”shesaid.“Happy?”hermotherwailed.Itquicklyturnedintoawhine.“Ishouldbehappywhen

my daughter is a fugitive? Oh, Helen, why can’t you come home? That’s the onlybirthdaypresentIwant.ItalkedwithRobbie,andhesaidhe’llforgiveyou.”

“He’ll forgiveme!”Helenshouted,herangerrisinginaredtide.“He’ll forgiveme!Ididn’tdoanything.”

“Youwreckedhiscar,”hermothersaid.“Ofcourse,Iwreckedhiscar.IfoundhimandSandyshaggingonourpatio.”Thesceneflashedagaininfrontofher.RobandSandywerenakedontheteakchaise

longue,hishairybottomintheair,herfreshlywaxedlegswavinglikeantennae.Robwassupposed to be oiling the wood and doing patiomaintenance. Instead, he was nailingSandy.AndRobalwayssaidhedidn’tlikeSandy.

Helen had picked up the crowbar she found next to Rob’s electric screwdriver. Shebroughtthecrowbardownonthechaisewithasatisfyingcrak!Robjumpedupoff(andout of) Sandy. Sandy scurried behind a pot of pink impatiens for protection, but notbeforeHelennoticedshewasnotarealblonde.

Robabandonedhis lady loveandtriedtohide inhisLandCruiser.Hescrambled inand locked the doors, butHelen had the crowbar. She still remembered the satisfyingsounditmadeasshedestroyedthebigSUV.First,shemulchedthewindshieldwhileRobcoweredinthefrontseat,armsuptoprotecthisheadfromflyingglass.Next,shebrokealltheotherwindows.Thenshecrackedtheheadlightsandtail-lightsandsplinteredthesidemirrors.

ShewasbusybashingthedoorswhenSandycrawledtothepileofclothesonthepatioand picked up her cell phone.Helenwas having somuch fun she did not hear Sandycalling911.Thepolice laughedtheirheadsoffwhentheysawthenakedRobhidinginthe car. He tried to get Helen arrested for destruction of property, but the car wasregisteredinhername.Afterall,she’dpaidforit.RobandSandydidnotpressattempted

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assault charges. Sandywas too afraidherhusbandwould findouthow she’d spentherafternoon.Hedidanyway.

Unfortunately, Helen’s insurance would not cover self-inflicted damage. And Rob’sphotosof thebatteredLandCruiser and thepolice reporton thedomesticdisturbancecalldidnothelphercourtcase.

Sherealizedhermotherwasstilltalking.“...Everythingcouldbeworkedout,Helen,ifyou’djustgetbacktogetherwithyourhusband.”

Helen’shandsitchedforacrowbar.“He’snotmyhusband,Mom.We’redivorced.”“Divorceisn’trecognizedbytheChurch,Helen,”hermothersaid.“ThePopesaidso.

Ifyoushouldeverremarry,you’llburninhell.”“ThePope’swrong,”Helensaid.“WhenIlivedwiththatmoochRob,Iwasalreadyin

hell.Anythingelsewouldbeheaven.Mom,don’tyourememberwhatmylifewas like?WhenRobquithissalesjob,hequitlookingforworkandlivedoffme.”

“Hewasn’tlivingoffyou,dear.Hejustcouldn’tfindajobonhislevel.”“Forsevenyears?”Helensaid,angryalloveragain.“Andhedida lotaroundyourhouse.Heremodeledthekitchenandthebathrooms,

and—”Heleninterrupted.“Mom,hedidn’tdoanythingbuttearupthoserooms.Ihadtohire

peopletofinishwhathestarted.Ipaidforthoserenovationsmyself.Meanwhile,hewasscrewingeverywomanintheneighborhood.”

“Helen,Ihavenodesiretohearthatlanguage.AndwhileIdon’twanttobecriticalofmyowndaughter,perhapsifyou’dbeenhomemoreinsteadofworkingthoselonghours,yourhusbandmighthavebeenmorefaithful.”

“Mother!”“Well, men have different appetites than we do, dear. I know you think I’m old-

fashioned,butit’strue.Robbiecouldstillbeagoodhusbandifyou’djustcomehomeanddowhatthejudgesaid.”

“Never!”Helensaid.“I’llstarvefirst.”“Butyoudon’thaveto,”hermothersaid.Shestartedherwailingwhineagain.“Helen,

youcouldhaveadecenthigh-payingjob—”“ExceptI’dhavetogivehalfthatsalarytoRob,Mother.”“Isthatsobad,Helen?”hermothersaid.“Itwouldstillbemanytimesmorethanyou

aremakingnow.”HelenlookedaroundthemustyapartmentattheCoronadowiththesqueakybedand

the turquoiseBarcalounger. She rememberedher huge St. Louis homewith its tastefulfurniture.HalfthehomeandmostofthecontentswenttoRob.

HelenhadfiledfordivorceaftertheLandCruisercrushing.Shewastheinjuredparty.But charming Rob had convinced the judge that he was a house husband who madeHelen’s successful career possible because he stayed home and took care of theirhousehold. His many lovers testified that Rob provided invaluable domestic services,whileHelenfumed,andherincompetentlawyertoldhertoshutup.

ThejudgebelievedRob,theman’sman.Helenwasmakingsixfigures,hishonorsaid,because ofRob’s love and support. The judge gaveRob half the house.Thatwas badenough,sinceHelenputupallthedownpayment.ButthenthejudgeawardedRobhalf

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of Helen’s future income, claiming her deadbeat husband made her current careerpossible“attheexpenseofhisownlivelihood.”

When the judge said thosewords,Helenwasoutraged.Beforeher lawyercould stopher,Helengrabbedafamiliarblackbookwithgoldlettering.Sheputherhandonitandsaid, “I swear on this Bible that my husband Rob will not get another nickel of mysalary.”

Later, the book turned out not to be a Bible, but a copy of the Revised MissouriStatutes.ButHelenstillconsideredtheoathbinding.

“Youngwoman,youwilldoasIorder,oryouwillbeincontemptofcourt,”thejudgehadthundered.

“I’malready incontemptof thiscourt,” screamedHelen.She realized shemusthavelooked like one of those “crazy women’s libbers” the judge disliked somuch. Rob satthereinhisnicesuit,kepthismouthshut,andgotallhermoney.

Nowshewasholding thecellphoneandscreamingagain.“Mother, I’d rather starvethangiveRobmymoney.That’swhyIleftSt.Louisandtookadead-endjob.EvenifthecourtorRobfindsme,I’mbarelymakingenoughtoliveon,muchlesshavingmoneyleftoverforthatmooch.”

Hermotherweptlouder.“Helen,youarecuttingoffyournosetospiteyourface.Allyoureducationandwhatareyoumakingnow?Sevendollarsanhour?”

“Sevenseventy,”Helencorrectedher.“Doingwhat?”hermotherdemanded.“Nevermindwhat,”Helensaid.Shedidn’ttrusthermothernottoblabtoRob.“It’s

respectable.”“It’sawaste.IneverthoughtI’dhaveadaughterhidingfromthelaw.”Helenwasn’tsurehowfarthecourtswouldgototrackdownadeadbeatwife.Butshe

knewRobwould go to any length to get hermoney.Well, hewouldbedisappointed.Helen came from hardworking stock. Her grandmother was a cleaning woman whosupportedherselfwithdead-endjobsherwholelife.Helencould,too.

“Idon’tknowhowyoucoulddothistome,”hermotherwailed.“Idon’tevenknowwhereyouare.”

Andyouwon’t,thoughtHelen.BecauseRobwouldcharmitoutofyou.“I’m in a better place,Mom,”Helen said. “I’mhappy here. I like it better than St.

Louis.”“Youhateme.Youhateyourhome,”hermothersaid.“Iloveyou,”Helensaid.“Pleasetrytounderstand.”Itwastimetobringoutthepink

cellophaneandendthisconversation.Helencrinkleditinherhand.“Sorry,thephone’sbreakingup.I’dbetterhangup.Ican’thearyou,butI loveyou,

Mom.”Ican’tlistentoyou,butIloveyou,Mom.“You’rebreakingup.Bye,Mom.Happybirth—”Helencutherselfoffinthemiddleofaword,tomakeitseemauthentic.After thecall,Helencouldnot stayshutupwithher thoughts.Shetookthesuitcase

backtoMargery’s,thenwentforawalkonthesidestreets,wherepeoplelikeherlived,shopassistants,waiters,andretirees.

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Darknesswascomingon.Catswithtornearscrawledoverfencesforanothernightofdangerous freedom. Small things scurried and slithered through the impatiens andpalmettos.Lightsweregoingoninthebrightlypaintedcottages,andintheirglow,Helencaughtglimpsesofotherpeople’slives.

Themoreshewalked,themorepeacefulshefelt.Juliana’sanditsdirtysecretsseemedfarway.Sodidhermotherandherrigidmorality.

Helen’speacewasshatteredbytheroarofamotorcycle.Shedidnotlookup,hopingthenoisewouldsoonbegone.Butthenthemotorcycleslowedtoarumble,andsheheardamansay,“Wouldyoulikearide?”

HelenlookedupandsawDanielonablackHarley.Heworehisblackleatherjacketandchapslikeaknight’sarmor.Hislegswerebraced

tocontrolthemotorcycle,andshecouldseehismusclesflexedthroughtheleather.Shefeltweakintheknees.

“Come on,” he said. “I won’t keep you out late on a school night.” He smiled socharmingly,sheclimbedaboardthebigbike.Hehandedherahelmet,whichfeltheavyasabowlingball.

Helen settled in behind him, put her arms around his broad chest, and felt how ittaperedintohisnarrowwaist.Sheleanedagainsthimandbreathedinsoapandsweatandleather.EverytimeDanielshifted,shefelthimmoveagainsther.Hisbodywashardbutwarm.

Theyweregoingtoofasttotalk,andHelenwasglad.Sheknewshe’dbetongue-tied.At first, shewas afraid they’d be killed.Herds of SUVs drove straight at them.Angrypickups roared past. Delivery trucks cut them off. Helen tensed and closed her eyes,expectingtobegroundchuck.ButsoonshesawthatDanielknewwhathewasdoing.Sherelaxedandbegantoenjoybeingwrappedaroundamanforthefirsttimeinages.Shefeltyoungandcarefree.

Halfanhourlater,DanielroaredintotheCoronadoparkinglot,Helenstillclingingtohim. They pulled off their helmets together. Helen stayed sitting on the bike, a littledazed.Danieldismountedandkissedher.Hard.Shedroppedthehelmetandkissedhimback,herfingerstangledinhislongdarkhair,herchestpressedagainsthisblackleatherjacket.

“Ihavetoleavenow,”hesaidfinally.“ButIwanttoseeyoutomorrownight.Seven-thirtyOK?We’llgoforalongerride.”

“Oh,yes,”Helensaid,knowinghewasnottalkingabouthismotorcycle.

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Chapter25

“Ihaveanewsystemtowinthelottery,”Peggytheparrotladysaid.“Hmmmm,”Helensaidabsently.ShewasstilldazedbyDaniel’skisses.Herlipswere

swollenandbruised.Hercheeksburned,rubbedrawbyhisbeard,whichwaspleasantlyrough.Likehiskisses.

Tomorrownight shewouldhave thatperfectbodyall toherself. If thosekisseswereanypreview,Danielwasevenbetterthanhelooked.

Helenploppeddownatthepicnictableandstaredintothenight,wishingitwouldgoawayandbecometomorrow,soshecouldbewithDaniel.

“AreyouOK?”Peggysaid,thenlookedcloseratHelen.“No,you’renot.Youlooklikeyou’vebeenhitontheheadwithacoconut.”

“IwentforarideonDaniel’snewHarley.”Peggywhistled.SodidPetetheparrot.“Hewantstotakemeridingtomorrownight,”Helensaid.“Well,well,”Peggysaid.“Areyougoing?”“Oh,yes,”Helensighed.“He’sabsolutelyperfect.Ithinkthisisit.”“Oh,oh.Whatkindofprotectiondoyouhave?”“Huh?”Helensaid.“Ithoughtso,”Peggysaid.“Don’tpretendhe’ssweptyouoffyourfeetwhenyouwind

upinhisbedtomorrownight.Doyouhaveanycondoms?”Helencouldfeelablushcreepingupherneck.“No,”shesaid.“IhaveaboxI’llneveruse.I’llgetitforyou.”Helenwas content todaydream in thedarkuntilPeggy returnedwith the condoms.

“Helen,Ihatetosoundlikeyourmother,butdoyouknowwhatyou’redoing?Youaren’tthetypewhohascasualaffairs.You’reaseriousperson.Thisguydatesstrippers. Ifyoujust want a good time,Daniel could be fun. But he’s not for the long haul. If you’relookingforanykindofcommitment,he’llprobablytakeoff.Canyoulivewiththat?”

“Daniel may not be Mr. Right, but he’s Mr. Right Now,” Helen said. She wassurprisedtohearherselfsaythat,butshemeantit.“Idon’tcareifIonlyhaveonenightwithDaniel.Nowomancanexpectperfectionforever.I’lltakewhatIcanget.”

“Thenputtheseinyourpurse.”“Thirty-sixcondoms?”Helensaid.“Hopeyouusethemall,”Peggysaid,andwinked.“Thanks,”Helensaid.Shewenttoherapartmentasifsheweresleepwalking.Onthe

way,shepassedthroughPhil’sperpetualcloudofburninghemp.

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Philhadhisdreams.SodidPeggy.Tomorrow,Helenwouldhavehers.

Helenwasnotsurehowshemadeitthroughworkthenextday.Shebroughtthewrongsizesforhercustomers.Shecountedoutthewrongchange.SheforgottobuzzinBrittneyand left her standing outside the green door tapping her foot impatiently.Tara finallynoticedBrittneyandadmittedher.WhenBrittneyaskedabouttheprogressofChristina’spoliceinvestigation,Helensimplysmiledandstaredintospace,whichshockedBrittney.Nowondersheleftinahuff.

After thatdisaster,Helentrieddrinkingblackcoffeeuntilhernerves screeched likeabadly tunedviolin.Thecaffeinedidnotmakehermorealert.Shepickedather lunch.Shesaid,“What?”whenTaraaskedherquestions.ButmostlyHelenstaredintonothing,likeawomaninatrance.She’dbeenputintothattrancebyDaniel’skiss.Onlyanotherkisswouldbreakthespell.

Yesterday, she’d been dying to examine the other CD tower. But that was beforeDaniel.Nowshedidn’tcareaboutJuliana’suglysecrets.AllHelencouldthinkaboutwasDaniel, themanwith the dashing black leather, themagnificentmuscles, the beautifulmanners.

Tonight, she had a datewith the perfectman.Daniel could ask out anywoman inSouthFlorida,buthewantedtospendtheevening—andthenight—withHelen.

What should she wear on their first date? She mentally went through her closet,discarding one outfit after another as too old, too dowdy, too dull.Helenwould havebrokenintoherpreciousstashandboughtsomethingspectacularatJuliana’sexceptshecouldnotwearanyofthestore’smidgetsizes.

Helenfinallydecidedonherblackpantsuit,whichalwaysmadeherlookslim.Shehadsome flimsy French underwear, which she hadn’t worn since before her divorce. Shewishedshehadtimeforafacial,amakeover,acompleteexerciseprogram.

Thatafternoon,Helenjammedthecashregister,andittookTarahalfanhourtofixit.ThensheknockedoverTara’ssodaandruinedaChanelscarf.

“Youareuselesstoday,”Tarasaid.“It’sfive-thirty.Whydon’tyougohome?”“Whatifsomethinghappenswhileyou’reherealone?Pauliewillneverforgiveme.”“Pauliewill never know. You’re doingmore damage than an army of looters,”Tara

said,andpushedHelentowardthedoor.Helenwent.MaybeTarawantedanotherchancetosearchthestore.Helendidn’tcare.

ShedoubtedTarawouldstumbleonthephotosintheCDtowers.Helenranallthewayhome.Allshecouldthinkaboutwasgettingreadyforherdate

withDaniel.Shetookalongsteamyshower,washedherhair,paintedhernails,creamedher skin, and put on the black French bra that gave her the incredible cleavage. Shecarefully applied her makeup. But her hands shook so badly, she smeared her darkeyeliner.HelentriedtowipeitoffwithaQ-tip,andwoundupwithblackraccooncirclesaroundhereyes.

Helentookoffallhermakeupandreappliedit.ThelastthingsHelenputonwerethediamondearringsRobgaveherontheirwedding

night.Theyweretheonlygoodjewelryshekeptfromheroldlife.Herengagementringhadbeensold,alongwithherRolexwatchandthediamondpendantRobboughtherfor

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theirtenthanniversary.ShethrewhergoldweddingbandintheMississippiwhensheleftSt.Louis.

Whenshe finished,Helen twirled in frontof themirroranddecidedshedidn’t lookhalfbad. Itwas seven-twenty-five.Helenwentoutside.PeggyandPete theparrotwereoutbythepoolwithMargery.Herlandladywaswearingatie-dyedpurpleshortssetandmagentasuedemules.

Peggybeganwhistling,“HereComestheBride.”Margerytoldhertohush.“You look lovely,dear,”Margerysaid.“It’sabout timethatboydatedarealwoman.

Whattimeareyougoingout?”“Seven-thirty,”Helensaid.“Anyminutenow.”They heard cars squeal into the parking lot and then the blare of police radios. A

uniformedpoliceofficerwentrunningtothebackexitoftheCoronado.“Whattheheck?”Margerysaid,andgotup.Anotheruniformrantothe footof thestaircase.Twomeninplainclothesanddark

windbreakers that saidFDLEwalkedpurposefullyup the steps toDaniel’s second-floorapartment, hands hovering above their weapons.Helen had lived here long enough toknowtheyweretheFloridaDepartmentofLawEnforcement.Oneknockedonthedoorto2Candsaid,“Openup!Police!”

Both men stood back, as if they expected Daniel to blast through the door with asawed-offshotgun.

“Daniel!He’shurt!”Helensaid.“No,”Margerysaid.SheheldHelen’sarmtightlysoshecouldnotbolttowardDaniel’s

apartment.“Stayhere.Staycalmuntilweknowwhat’sgoingon.”Daniel’sdooropened,andthetwoFDLEagentswentinside.Helenwasn’tsurehow

longtheywereinthere,buteventuallytheycamebackoutwithDaniel.Hishandswerecuffedbehindhim.Theagentshandedhimovertothetwopoliceofficers.Daniellookedheartbreakinglyhandsomeinblackleather.

“Daniel!”Helencried.“Awkk,” Pete the parrot said, and danced gleefully on Peggy’s shoulder. Helen

rememberedthathe’dbittenDaniel.“Shutup,birdbrain,”Peggysaid.“Whatareyoudoingwiththatboy?”Margerydemanded.“Sorry,ma’am, he’s under arrest,” one police officer said. “He’s being charged with

theftbydeception.”“Theremustbesomemistake,”Helensaid.“No,ma’am.Nomistake.He’sbeingarrestedforcheatingwidowsandpoorpeople.”“He’sinnocent.Daniel,letmegowithyou,”Helensaid.“No!Stayhereandcallmylawyer,”Danielsaid.“HisnameisSteinway,onOakland

Park.”“Oh,shit,”Margerysaid.“Steinway,” Daniel repeated. “Like the piano. Tell him they’re booking me at the

BrowardCountyJail.Don’tcomedownthere,Helen,please.”“Come on,” the police officers said.Doors slammed, tires squealed, andDanielwas

gone.ThelastthingHelennoticedwashowdumpythepoliceofficerslookednexttothe

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superblymuscledDaniel.

Helen remembered that night in flashes. The FDLE agents had a search warrant forDaniel’sapartment.Theylefthourslater,carryingoutboxafterbox.

PeggycalledSteinwaythelawyer.Margery tookHelen back to her own place and installed her in the purple recliner,

wrappedinablanket.Helenstartedshiveringuncontrollably,andMargerymadeherhotchocolateandchickensoup.Helentookasipofeach.

“Theremustbesomemistake,”shekeptrepeating.“I’msure it’sallamisunderstanding,”Peggysoothed.ButMargerystayedsilent,and

Helennoticed.“Whydidyou saywhatyoudidwhenDanielyelledout that lawyer’sname?”Helen

askedherlandlady.“Doyoureallywanttoknow?”Margeryasked.“Yes.Nomatterhowbaditis,Iwanttoknow.”“Steinwayrepresentseverysuccessfulcrookintown.Retainhimandyoumightaswell

announceyou’reguilty.ExceptSteinwayhasaremarkablerecordforhelpingtheguiltygofree.”

“Oh,shit,”Helensaid.“Icouldbewrong,”Margerysaid.“Ifeellikesuchafool,”Helensaid.“WhatifDanielreallydidcheatwidowsandpoor

people? That’s disgusting.” Then the tears started, and she couldn’t stop them. “GodpunishedmeforwantingtohopintobedwithamanIbarelyknew.”

“Rubbish,” Margery said. “Do you think God runs a dating service? She has moreimportantthingstodo.”

“You’reright,”Helensaid.“Isoundlikemymother.”“Godforbid,”Margerysaid.Helenlaughed,thenblewhernose.“Iwishthecopscouldhavearrestedhimtomorrow

night,”shesaid,andallthreewomenlaugheduntiltheirsidesachedasmuchasHelen’sheart.

PeggyandMargerywalkedHelenbacktoherroomandhelpedherundress.Shewasfine,untilshestrippedoffhertopandsawthatincrediblecantileveredbra.ThenHelenstartedcryingagain.Margerywrappedherinarobeandrockedherlikeachild.

“Maybeit’sacaseofmistakenidentity,”Helensaid,sniffling.“Maybewe’llknowmorewhenwereadtomorrow’spaper,”Peggysaid.

Helenthoughtshe’dneverfallasleep,butshedid,almostimmediately.Itwasarestless,phantom-ridden sleep, haunted by old sorrows. She knew she’d been a fool, and herdreamstoldherso,until shedidn’twanttohear itanymore.Butshecouldnotescape.Sheslepton.OnlywhenHelenheardthedoorsofthenewspaperdeliveryvanslamshutatfive-tenthenextmorningdidsheawake.

Helenrummagedinherpurseforchangetobuyapaper.ShehadtoknowwhatDanielhaddone.“Hecheatedwidowsandpoorpeople,”thepolicesaid.Buthow?ShethoughtguiltilyofherrideonDaniel’sbrand-newHarley.Wheredidhegetthemoneyforthat?

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When Helen opened her door, Margery was stepping outside. She was wearing herpurplechenillerobeandredspongecurlers.

“Goingforapaper?”shewhispered.Helennodded.“I’llgowithyou,”Margerysaid.Helen bought the paper but did not open it. They walked back to Margery’s. Her

landladypouredcoffeeforthemboth,thenputonherreadingglasses.Theywerereadyfor the worst. The story was on page 2B: “Police Arrest Man Accused of Fire SafetyScam.”

Margeryreadthestoryoutloud,“DanielDayson,42—”“He’smyage?”Helensaid.“Ithoughthewasyounger.”“Me,too,”Margerysaid.Sheclearedherthroatandstartedreadingagainfromthetop:“DanielDayson,42,hasbeenchargedwithcheatingatleastthirtyFloridarestaurants

andfood-relatedbusinesseswithafire-equipmentrepairscam.“Anne Watts, spokeswoman for the Florida Department of Law Enforcement, said

Dayson allegedly bilked restaurant owners of more than sixty thousand dollars. TheFDLEspokeswomansaidDaysonwould‘gointorestaurants,showfalseID,andclaimtobe from the fire marshal’s office. Dayson would say he was there to inspect therestaurant’skitchenhoodsystemsandportablefireextinguishers.’”

“Theuniform,”Helensaid.“Danielworethattailoredblueuniformwiththeofficial-lookingredpatches.”

Margeryadjustedherglassesandstartedreadingagain.“Daysonwould claim that the restaurant’s equipmentwasnotworkingproperly and

was inviolationof the firecode. ‘Itwasquiteascam,’Watts said. ‘Apparently,Daysonwouldtelltherestaurantstheywouldhavetoshutdownuntiltheequipmentwasfixed.This could cost them thousands of dollars in lost business while they contracted withrepairpeopleororderedtheproperequipment.Daysonwouldoffertofixtheequipmenthimself,forcash.GratefulrestaurantownerswouldgiveDaysonseveralthousanddollarsincashforrepairsthattheydidnotneed.Needlesstosay,hefixednothing.’

“FDLEinvestigatorssaidDaysonwasalsowantedinGeorgia,Alabama,andTexasforthesamescam.‘Theinvestigationisongoing,’Wattssaid.‘Anyonewithinformationonthiscaseshouldcall...’”

Margerythrewthepaperdown.“Ican’tbelieveImadefudgeforhim,”shesaid.Ican’tbelieveIwantedtogotobedwithhim,Helenthought.ShepickedupthepaperandlookedatDaniel’smugshot.Somepeoplelookguiltyin

mugshots.Otherslookangry,evil,orbleary-eyed.ButDaniellookedsurprised.Perhapshe thought he could charm his way out of this, too. Even in the harsh light, he washandsome.

Atsevena.m.,PeggyarrivedwithoutPetetodiscusstheDanieldisaster.Helenthoughtshelookednakedwithnoparrotonhershoulder.

Ateight,CalpoundedonMargery’sdoor.“TurnontheTVifyouladieswanttoseeyourboyfriend,”hesaid.“Ialwaysknewhewasacrook.”

Margery slammed the door onCal’s gloating face, but she flipped on the TV. Thewomendidnot seeDaniel,buthisvictims.AHispaniccouplewas tellinga reporter in

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haltingEnglish that they gaveDaniel three thousand dollars for phony repairs to theirHialeahrestaurant.

“Hehadabadgeandofficialpapers.Heworeauniform,”thehusbandsaid.“Wewereafraidhewouldcloseusdown.”

“Itisalloursavings,”thewifewept.Theotherinterviewwasaseventy-year-oldDaviewidowwhoranadoughnutshop.“Hecameinherewearingablueuniformwithpatchesonit.HowwasIsupposedto

know?”thewidowsaid,herchintrembling.“NowtheytellmethatBrowardCountyfiremarshalswearadifferentuniform.Well,it’stoodarnlate.Ilostfifteenhundreddollars.Heneverevendidtherepairs.”

“Imaginepickingonanoldlady,”Margerysaid.Herredspongecurlersbobbedwithindignation.

Noonehadthenervetosaythe“oldlady”wasyoungerthanMargery.“Well,he’safirst-classconman,”Margerysaid.“Hefooledme.”“Andme,”Peggysaid.“Andallthosepoorpeople.”Andme,Helen thought.“I thinkI’llgetdressed forwork,” she said,andwent sadly

backtoherapartment.Handsome is as handsome does, Helen’s grandmother used to say. There was

somethingsmallandmeananduglyaboutDaniel’schoiceofvictims.Hewentaftertheold and the poor, after peoplewho did not speakEnglishwell, after peoplewhowereafraidofofficialpapers.

HowcouldI findamanlikethatattractive?Helenthought.What’swrongwithme?I’vemadeonebadchoiceafteranother:firstRob,thenCal,nowDaniel.

WhathadMargerysaid?SinglemeninSouthFloridawereall“drunks,druggies,anddeadbeats.”ExceptforDaniel,apettycrookwhopreyedontheoldandthehelpless.

NowonderPeggywasthroughwithmenforever.PeggywouldratherplaytheFloridaLotto,where her chances ofwinningwere one in twenty-threemillion. Peggy believedthosewerebetteroddsthanthedatinggame,whereshesawnochanceatall.

Helenopenedherpurse,tookouttheboxofcondoms,andtossedtheminthetrash.Shewasn’tevergoingtogetlucky.

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Chapter26

“Mylife,”Helensaid,“isinthetoilet.”Shewasstaringatabluetoiletwithagnarledscheffleraplantgrowinginthebowl.A

bathtubwasplantedwithamassofspikymother-in-law’stongue.“Thenyou’vecometotherightplace,”Sarahsaid.Bathtubs and commodes were the decor at Le Tub, one of Hollywood’s funkier

restaurants.Someoftheexiledporcelainwereplanters.Otherswerepaintedwithslogans:“Aninexpensiveplaceforfolkswithmoney!”onetubsaid.

LeTub’sweatheredwoodboothsoverlookedthesilverwateroftheIntracoastal.Aboyfedhisfrenchfriestothefish.Helenwatchedthesunset.Itwashardtotakehertroublesseriouslywhenshesatbetweenabathtubandapost-cardview.

Sarahlookedchicinagauzywhiteoutfit,andHelenrememberedwithshamethatshewasaJuliana’sreject.“Thanksfortakingmehere,”Helensaid.“Ifeelbetteralready.”

“Good,”Sarahsaid.Hercharmbracelet jingledcheerfully,butherbrightbrowneyesweresympathetic.“I’msorryaboutDaniel.”

“Ifeellikesuchafool,”Helensaid.“Why?Theguywasascamartistwhooperatedinthreestates.Floridabreedsthemlike

mosquitoes.Ifyougotconnedbyhim,you’vegotplentyofcompany.Atleastyoudidn’tgivehimyourlifesavings.”

“I gave him my heart,” Helen said, then wished she’d never said something soridiculous.

“Honey,atourage,that’sagiftwe’vegivenbefore.Hedidn’tgetanythingnew.”Helen giggled.Awaiter cameby, andbothwomenorderedwhitewine and seafood

salads.“I’mtrying to thinkofDaniel asadiversion,”Helen said. “WhenIwaswithhim, I

forgotmytroubles.”“But you still have them,” Sarah reminded her. “What’s happening with the

investigation?WhoareyourcandidatesforChristina’smurder?”“There are toomany,”Helen said. “Christina was blackmailing at least five people,

maybemore.Itwasnasty.Shecouldruinalotofpeople.”“Likewho?”Sarahsaid.“Tara,forstarters.ChristinahadproofthatshewasaprostituteinVegas.”“ThisisSouthFlorida.Wouldanyonecare?”Sarahsaid.“Tara’s boyfriend, Paulie. He’d dump her in a heartbeat, and he’s her meal ticket.

ChristinawasbleedingTarafortwothousandamonth,andshewantedmore.Tarasays

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shewouldn’t killChristina because she couldn’t find the incriminatingphotos. I thinkshe’stellingthetruth.Ofcourse,IbelievedDanielwastheperfectman.”

“Enoughflagellation,”Sarahsaid.“You’restartingtoenjoyit.”“Christina also had compromising material on Sharmayne, the supermodel, and

Tiffanywiththebadeyejob.”“Thewomanwasbusy,”Sarahsaid.“Ithinkshemayhavebeenblackmailingherex-boyfriendJoe,too.He’sbeenbugging

me for a package he saysChristina left him.The creep practically threatenedme.Theonlyproblemis,Ihaven’tfoundanyblackmailphotosforJoeyet.ButIstillhavetochecktheotherCDtower.”

“What’shissong?”“‘YouGottaServeSomebody.’”“Dylan,” Sarah said. “Christina had good taste. An ugly sense of humor, but good

taste.”“Oh,yeah?”Helensaid.“ThenwhyamIlookingforDonHo’s‘TinyBubbles’?”“Idon’tknow,whyareyou?”“Itmighthave something todowith thedeathofBrittney’s fiancé, except she’s not

actingliketheothers,”Helensaid.“Idon’tthinkBrittneywasbeingblackmailed.”Theseafoodsaladswereservedinpaperbowls,withforksstickingoutofthetopanda

pileofpapernapkinsontheside.Theyweremoundsoffreshcalamari,salmon,crab,andshrimp.

“Oh, I forgot Venetia, the jittery drug customer,” Helen said. “Christina wasblackmailingher, too.Thatwoman isweird enough to flip out andkillChristina, butshe’stooskinnytohurtanyone.”

“Don’tbetoosure,”Sarahsaid.“Iusedtoworkinahospital.Theskinnydruggiescangetpowerfully strongwhentheyaredesperate. It took fourmentorestrainoneninety-poundcokeheadatourhospital.”

“Then I’ll keepVenetia on the list,”Helen said. “There’s alsoNiki.Christina knewshe’dbeenajewelthief.Andtherewasthemurderforhire.Excepteverythingwentright.Desireedied,andNikigotherman.”

“MaybeChristinawasblackmailingherforitanyway,”Sarahsaid.“Maybe. ButNiki couldn’t have killedChristina.When themurder took place, she

sayswasinGreece.”“That’swhatshesays.Isaywecheckherout,”Sarahsaid.Theirseafoodsaladswereeaten, thesunhadgonedown,andHelenwasshivering in

thechilleveningair.“Let’sgobacktomyplaceforcoffeeandKeylimepieandtalkthisoverfurther,”Sarahsaid.

HelenhadnoproblemdiscussingtheblackmailbusinesswithSarah.Butshewouldnotmention it to her landlady, Margery. Maybe she did not want Margery knowing toomuch.HerlandladyalreadyhadHelen’ssuitcasefullofcash.

Helen and Sarah walked along Hollywood Beach until they reached Sarah’s condo.Kids pedaled by on low-slung yellow banana bikes, their rumps nearly touching theground. Young couples kissed by the ocean.Old couples walked hand-in-hand on theboardwalk.Tiredparentspackeduptheirbeachumbrellasandsunburnedoffspring.

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Athercondo,Sarahmadecoffeeandcuttwoslicesofpie.“Igatheryou’renotgoingtothepolicewiththisnewinformation?”shesaid.

Helenjustlookedather.“You’reafraidDetectiveDwightHanselwillmakeyourlifedifficult,andyou’llneedan

expensivelawyer,likeJoehadtoget.”“Yes,”Helensaid.Itwaspartlytrue.Thewholetruthwasworse.“Thenyou’llhavetosolveChristina’smurderyourself.”“I’mnodetective.Idon’tknowwheretobegin.”“FindoutwhohasanalibiforthedayChristinadied.”“Weekend,” Helen said. “Well, sort of. The police think she was killed sometime

betweenSaturdayeveningandMondaymorning.Christina’slastphonecallwaswithherex-boyfriendJoe,aboutsix-twentySaturdaynight.She’dleftthestorebythen.Iknowforsure that Joehasnoalibi.Nikiclaims tohaveone. Ican’t tellyouabout theblackmailvictimsorBrittney.”

“Thenyouneedtoknow.Invitethemalltothestore,thewayNeroWolfegetspeopletocometohisbrownstone.ThenaskwheretheyweretheweekendChristinadied.”

“HowamIgoingtogetthesewomeninthestoreatthesametime?”“Theyshopthereallthetime.Invitethemforaspecialsale.”“Juliana’sneverhasanythingasplebeianas sales,”Helensaid.“Butwearegetting in

somelovelynewstock.Icanofferthemafirstlook.Aspecialchampagneshowing.Itwillcostmeacoupleofbottlesofbubbly.”

“Don’tyoudarepayforthechampagneyourself.Takethemoneyoutofpettycash.”“You’reright.Iwill,”Helensaiddefiantly.“What’soldTightwadRogetgoingtodo?

Fireme?”Sarah’scellphonerang,andshe lookedat thecaller’snumber.“Oops.Ihavetotake

this.Makeyourselfathome.”Thismightwork,Helenthought.Sheusedtoanalyzefinancialreportsinherotherlife.

Now she could analyze alibis.Helen remembered something else.Therewas a twenty-five-thousand-dollarrewardifshecaughtChristina’skiller.Shedidn’thavetobringinthekilleratgunpoint.Justgivethepoliceinformationleadingtothearrestandconviction.

Sarah’s call was taking longer than she thought. Helen read an old Best Friendsmagazine she foundon the coffee table.Shewashalfway througha story about theatercatswhenSarahcameoutofherofficeandcaughtHeleninmid-yawn.“I’mtired,too,”Sarahsaid.“Takethemagazine.I’lldriveyouhome.”

The more they talked about the special showing on the drive home, the moreenthusiasticHelenbecame.“I’llholdthechampagneshowingintwodays.Tellthemit’saone-time-onlyoffer.I’llstartcallingfirstthingtomorrow.There’sjustoneproblem:HowamIgoingtogetthesewomentotalkaboutwheretheywerewhenChristinadied?”

“Tellthemyouknowthetimeofdeath.They’lljumpinwithwheretheywere.Itwillbeeasierthanyouthink,”Sarahsaid.“Trustme.”

“That’swhatgotmeintotroubleinthefirstplace,”Helensaid.

ThechampagneshowinghadeverythingaJuliana’sregularcouldwant:secrecy,snobbery,andspecialtreatment.

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Helencalledeachwomanandmadeher swearnot to tell a soul,knowingshewouldtalktheinstantshehungup.HerconversationwithTiffanywastypical.

“You have to keep this quiet,” Helen said. “I can only invite five special people. Icouldn’t askMelissa or Bianca,much as I love them, because, frankly, you’re a bettercustomer.”

“Iwon’tbreatheaword,”Tiffanysaid.“I’msohonored.”Shewas,too.Helenfeltalittlesad.Niki jumpedat thechance tobeoneof thechosen.Brittneysaidshe’dbedelighted.

Eventhehard-boiledSharmaynesaidyes.ThatreallysurprisedHelen.Butshesuspectedthewomenlikedtheideatheyweregettingspecialtreatmentinastorethatprideditselfonexclusivity.

Helen’sonefailurewasVenetia.Shecouldn’treachherathomeoronhercellphone.Helen kept calling every half hour. It was five o’clock, the day before the special sale,whenashrillvoiceansweredthephone.

“Venetia?”Helenbegan.“ThisisJuliana’s,andwe’dliketoinviteyoutoaspecial—”“I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to call here,” the woman screeched. “You’ve

ruinedmydaughter-in-law.Ruinedher.”Whoa.Venetia’shusbandhaddefinitelymarriedsomeonelikeMom.“Doyouknowwheresheis?”thescreechercontinued.“Inaprivatehospital,tryingto

recover from the damage you did. Shewent to your store to return a purse and camehomeraving.Idon’tknowwhatyougaveher,butitsentVenetiaovertheedge.Wehadto commit her that afternoon. She’s been there ever since. If it wouldn’t bring moreshameonourfamily,I’dcallthecops,youheartless—”

“Wait,itwasn’tme,”Helensaid.“I’mthenewactingmanager.”“WhereisthatterribleChristina?Didtheyfinallyfireher?”“Haven’tyouheard?”“Idon’thearanything.I’mtryingtokeepmyson’sfamilytogether.”“Christinawasmurdered,”Helensaid.“Good,”thewomansaid,andslammeddownthephone.Venetiahadanalibi,anditwasironclad:ShewasinadetoxwardwhenChristinawas

murdered. But that made Helen one person short for the champagne showing. Thesolutionwasstanding—orrather,moping—infrontofher.

“Tara,”Helensaid.“Ineedabigfavor.Tomorrow,wouldyoubeacustomerinsteadofasalesassociate?Ifyoubuyanything,youcanuseyourstorediscount.I’llalsopayyouforyourtime.”

Tarasquealed likea littlegirlgettingaspecial treat.“That’syour ideaofabig favor?I’vebeendyingtogo.IwasthinkingofquittingsoIcouldbeacustomer.I’vealreadygotmyeyeonthatnewblackD&G.”

HelenshowedupatthestorethatFridaymorningwiththreebottlesofchilledPiper-HeidsieckExtraDryforthefivewomen.

“Aren’tyougoingtoputoutanysnackswiththat?”Tarasaid.“No, they buy more if it’s just champagne,” Helen said. They talk more, too, she

thought.Tara looked dubious. “Niki doesn’t hold her liquor well,” she said. “Neither does

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Tiffany.”“IpromiseI’llsendanyonewhogetstipsyhomeinacab,”Helensaid.At ten-forty-five, while Tara shooed out the uninvited customers, Helen hung an

elegantly letteredsignonthegreendoor.It said,“Closedforaspecialevent.Reopenattwop.m.”

Byeleven-oh-two,allthespecialguestshadarrived.Helenpoppedthefirstchampagnecork.Itwaslikeshehadfiredastarter’spistol.

The fivewomen bought as if shoppingwas a competition sport, anOlympic event.They spent likedrunkencongressmenwith taxpayers’money.TheclothesTaraboughtcost more than Helen made in a year at Juliana’s. Niki beat her in the shoppingsweepstakes.Brittneyspentmorethanbothwomencombined.

Thewomenspentwithstyle.Theytriedondressesthat lacedfetchinglyupthefrontlike corsets or bared elegant backs. Skirts were slit to the thigh. Blouses showed offsmoothshouldersorslenderwaists.

Thefabricswererichorsheerorsofrothyyouwantedtodiveintothem.Thecolorswereedible.Tiffanyboughtadelectablepeachslipdress.It’sstylishonher,

Helenthought.I’dlooklikeIwasinmyunderwear.SharmaynecameoutinasevereblackChanelsuitpipedinwhite,andblackankle-strap

heels straight out of a bondage catalogue. The effect was incredibly sexy. Everyoneapplauded,andSharmaynedidacatwalkstrutthroughthestore.

Theyaresobeautiful,Helenthought.They’relikeflowersinanexoticgarden.Exceptoneofthesebeautiescouldbeakiller.Shelookedatthegorgeouswomenlaughingandsipping champagne. She wondered which one murdered Christina and let her rot inBiscayneBay.

Shealsowonderedwhyshewastryingtotrapthiskiller.Wasshenuts?Thefearbegancrawling in her guts again. I’m playingNeroWolfe, she thought, but I forgot he hadArchieGoodwinwhenhesatinaroomwithakiller.Notme.I’mgettingthemdrunk.I’munarmedanddesperate.

Helenstoodatthecashregisterlikeasoldieratherpost,ringinguponepurchaseafteranother, until Juliana’s profited more than a hundredfold on the investment of threebottles of champagne. After the buying fever was over, the five women sat on theloveseats.Spentwastheonlywordtodescribethem.

Theywerenowdeep into the thirdbottleofchampagne.Nikihadhiccups.She sentoutawaveofperfumewitheachhic.Helenthoughtshe’dbetterpopthequestionbeforeitwastoolate.

“I’dliketoproposeatoasttoChristina,”Helensaid,liftingachampagneflute.“Shewouldhavelovedthis,”Tiffanysaid,soundingtheleastbitteary.Shefinishedthe

glassinonegulp.“Don’tthepoliceknowanythingabouther. . .”—Nikicouldn’tbringherselftosay

“murder”—“passing?”“Theyknowthetimeofdeath,”Helensaid.“Theythinkshediedsometimebetween

SaturdayeveningandMondaymorning.”“That’s so sad,” Niki said. She gave an enormous hic and then a delicate belch. “I

didn’tcomebackuntilSaturday.ImeantheThursdayaftershepassed.”Andinteresting

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slip,Helenthought.WasthedateofthecarjackingandChristina’smurderonhermind?Ordidshejustsaytoomuch?

“Iwas inGreece,”Niki said. It sounded likeGriss. “Iwas having awonderful timewhileChristinawasgettingmurdered.”

I’dbettergetacabforNiki,Helenthought.“I spent thewhole timewithPaulie, but I can’t say itwas all thatwonderful,”Tara

said.Thewordcameout“wunnerful.”Shemovedherheadabruptlyandslappedherselfinthefacewithherlongdarkhair.

Nowaytoprovethat,Helenthought.AndTarawastipsy,too.“Agirl’sgottadowhatagirl’sgottado,”Tiffanysaid,andfinishedoffanotherglass.

Thechampagneshouldhavemadehereyelidsdroop,butsurgeryhadstretchedthemtootight.Instead,shelookedslightlybug-eyed.

“Toobad theydon’tgiveOscars forbestperformance inbed,”Tara said.“Then theworldwouldknowwhatagoodactressIam.”

Tarawasn’ttipsy.Shewassloshed.Twocabs,thoughtHelen.Brittney adroitly steered the conversation away from the slippery subject of sheets.

“Wherewereyou,Sharmayne?”shewhispered.“Someplaceglamorous,I’msure.”“IwasattheFrancesSneedMemorialScholarshipbenefitinNewYork.”“IsawyourpictureintheNewYorkTimes,”Tiffanysaid.“YouworeyourblackVera

Wang.Itlookedsuper.”“Andwherewas—hic—yourhic—yourlittlepuppy,BigBoy,whileyouwereinNew

York?”Nikisaid.Helenfeltherselfblushatthementionofthedog’sname.Sharmaynemusthaveseen

herfaceredden.ShestaredrightatHelenandsaid,“Itookhimwithme.Ineverboardhimatthevet’s.BigBoydoesn’tknowhe’sadog.WestayedoveruntilMonday.”

Sharmayne knows I’ve seen those blackmail photos, Helen thought. And she’sabsolutelysober.Thefearsnakesinthepitofherstomachslitherednervously.

“Howaboutyou,Brittney?”Sharmaynesaid.“IwasattheKensingtonartandjewelrysaleinBoca,”Brittneywhispered.Shelooked

ratherlikeaworkofartherself.Oneofthoselifelikepeoplesculpturessopopularafewyearsback.

“Ooh,that’sthethree-daysalebyinvitationonly,”Tarasaid.“Right,” Brittney breathed. “I stayed at a hotel from Saturday night until Monday

morningandshoppedtillIdropped.”“Luckyyou,”Tarasaid.“Threedaysofbargains.”“Don’tyouusuallygototheKensingtonsale,Tiffany?”Brittneysaid.Tiffany’s eyes bulged like an ornamental goldfish’s. She tossed off another flute of

champagnebeforeshesaid,“No,myboyfriend,Burt,wasoutoftown.Hisbigsaltwateraquariumbroke Friday right after he left.Cracked right down themiddle. I spent thewholeweekendrunningaroundgettingnewsaltwaterfishandanewtankandeverything.TookmetillMondaytogetthingsbacktogether.Itwasawful.Flishfoppingalloverthecarpet...”

Thephrase“fishflopping”haddefeatedherpiercedtongue.“DidyougotoDeepBlueSeaforyoursaltwaterfish?”Brittneyasked.

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“No,”Tiffanyhiccupped.“Funny,”Brittneysaid,softly.“Theyhavethebestselection.”“Well,Ididn’tthinkso,”Tiffanysaid.Shesoundedflustered,andforamomentHelen

caughtaglimpseofthestraggly-hairedgirlwhoswipedjewelryattheoldfolkshome.“Sowhere did you buy your fish?” Brittney asked.Thewomanwould havemade a

goodprosecutingattorney.“Idon’twannatalkaboutit,”Tiffanysaid,slurringherwords.She’slying,Helenthought.Andshedoesn’thaveanalibi.Attwoo’clock,thechampagnewasdrunk,andsowereatleastthreecustomers.“Timeformetoreopenthestore,”Helensaid.“Andyourcabsarehere.Tara,readyto

go?”“HowamIgoingtoexplaintoPauliewhyI’mcominghomeinthemiddleoftheday?”

Tarasaid.“Tellhimyougottheflu,”Helensaid.“Thewine flu,”Niki giggled.Her perfume seemed to be getting stronger as she got

drunker.“Gottaqueshun.Christinaleaveanythingforme?”“Somepapers?”Helensaid,thinkingofNiki’sarrestrecordsquirreledawayintheCD

case.“No, a tape. Wedding songs. I’d like it for sennimen—for stentimen—for pers’nal

reasons.”“Ihaven’tfoundanytapes,”Helensaid.“Youwouldn’tlietolittleNiki?”HerfacecrumpledlikeawetKleenex,andHelenwas

afraidshemightcry.Timetogo.HelenloadedTara,Tiffany,andNikiintocabs,alongwiththeirmountainsofpurchases.Brittneysaidshecoulddriveherselfhome.Helenhadnotseenherdrinkmorethanhalfaglassofchampagne.

Sharmaynewascompletelysober.Shewasalsothelasttoleave.Shestoodatthedoor,hipcockedatanaggressiveangle,voiceloweredtoanicythreat.

“Iknowwhatyouweredoing,”Sharmaynesaid.ThensheslammedthegreendoorinHelen’sface.

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Sharmaynewas furious.Tiffanywas lying.Andnobody seemed to have a decent alibi.Thechampagneshowingwasasmashingsuccess.

AssoonasSharmaynestalkedoutthedoor,HelencalledSarah.Afterall,thishadbeenher idea.Helenwedged the phonebetweenher ear andher shoulder so she could talkwhileshecleanedup.

“I’mnotsurewhatIlearned,butI’vecertainlystirredthingsup,”Helensaid.Shewasenjoyingthis.Helenwasanaturaldetective—orbusybody.That’swhatthey

called women back home who watched the neighbors through their miniblinds andpumpedtheunwaryforpersonalinformation.

“There’s hardly an alibi in the whole bunch. I can’t prove if Tara was with herboyfriendthewholetime,”Helensaid.“Brittneydoesn’thaveanalibi,either.Shespenttheweekendataninvitation-onlysaleinBoca.ShecouldhaveslippedoutanytimeanddrivenbacktoLauderdaleinforty-fiveminutes.”

Helen carried the empty champagne flutes to the stockroom. Shewent back for thethirdchampagnebottleanddroppeditintherecyclebin.Itlandedontheotherswithanaudibleclank.

“Nicedressshopyou’rerunningthere,”Sarahsaid.“Soundslikeabar.”“Ifitwas,I’dhavesomedecentbarragstocleanoffthetabletops.Spilledchampagne

issticky.”Scrubbingattheringswithpapertowelsseemedtosmearthemaround.“Sharmayneisfuriouswithyou,butshehasanalibi,right?ShewasinNewYork.”“But I don’t know that for sure,” Helen said. “If the benefit was Saturday night,

SharmaynecouldhavecomehomeSundayandhadplentyoftimetomurderChristina.”“IcancheckSharmayne’sstory,”Sarahsaid.“Ihaveafriendinthetravelindustrywho

owesmeafavor.”“WhatifSharmayneusedfakeID?”“Unlikelythesedays.Evenifshedid,shewastravelingwithaGermanshepherd.That

willshowupinthecomputer.Shecouldn’texactlyputBigBoyinacarrierundertheseat,couldshe?”

“WhataboutNiki?”“It’sevenlesslikelyshe’dfakeaninternationalflight.I’llcheckonher,too.”Sarahcalledback inanhour. “Bingo,” she said. “Sharmayne traveledunderherown

name.SheflewoutofFortLauderdaleat10:22a.m.SaturdayandreturnedMondayat4:57p.m.Thedogwentbycrate.Nootherhitsforawomanpassengerwithalargecrateddogduringthattime.

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“Niki’s in the clear, too. She left forGreece the Thursday evening beforeChristinadisappeared.SheflewnonstopfromMiamitoMadrid,thentoAthens.ShedidnotcomebackuntiltheThursdayafterthecarjacking.Christinawasalreadydead.”

“ShediedthesamedayasDesiree.How’sthatforirony?”Helensaid.“We’remakingsomeprogress.Niki,SharmayneandVenetiaaredefinitelyout.”

“Unlessoneofthemhiredahitman,”Sarahsaid.“Whowouldtheygoto—Christina?”“No,mostofthemhavemobboyfriends.”“That’s why Christina was blackmailing them,” Helen said. “We’ve just gone in a

circle.Thosethreeareintheclear.IstillhavetodealwiththelyingTiffany.I’llcallherinthemorningwhenshesobersup.”

“Good idea,” Sarah said. “When she’s hungover and remorseful, she may tell youmore.”

“After I close the store, I’ll take another look at those CDs. I’m starting to getsomewhere.I’llsolvethisyet.”

ButHelennevergotachance.Shewasinterruptedbyadeaththreat.Itwasalmostsixp.m.whenthephonerang.

“Juliana’s,”Helen said.No servile “Howmay I help you?” The store’s name was astatementandachallenge.

A muffled voice asked, “Where is it? Where’s the stuff?” “What stuff?” Helen said,puzzled.Wasthisawrongnumber?

“Youknow,” thevoice said.Therewasnomenace to it, and thatmade the low, flatvoicemorefrightening.Helencouldn’ttellifitwasamanorwoman.Hadthevoicebeenmechanicallyaltered?

“Idon’tknowwhatyou’retalkingabout,”Helensaid.“Yes,youdo,Helen,”theoddlyinhumanvoicesaid.Itknewhername.Thehairwent

uponthebackofherneck.“Iwantit,oryou’renext.You’vegotaweek.”“Forwhat?Beforewhat?”Helenwasdesperatelytryingtounderstandwhatthiscrazy

personwanted.“Beforeyougetyourownpersonalrideinabarrel.”There was a click. The silence was so loud, Helen could hear her heart pounding.

Thud.Thud.Thud.Someonewantedtokillher.Someonewanted to stuff her body in a barrel. She’d never be identified. She didn’t

haveanyimplants.She’dwindupburiedinapotter’sfield.Shadows shifted in the store, andHelen jumped before she realized it was only the

windrustlingthetreesonLasOlas.Thecornersofthestoreseemeddarkandmenacing.Thestockroomwasablackcavefilledwithunspeakablesecrets.

At six p.m., Helen locked the store and left. On the walk home she kept lookingaroundnervously.AbigwhiteLincolnwithtintedwindowswascrawlingdownLasOlasrightbehindher.Helenslowedherpace.Thecarsloweddown,too.

TheLincolnwas followingher. If sheduckeddownasidestreet, itcouldfollowandrunrightoverher.Noonewouldseeherdie.

Helenhadonlyonechance.Whenthelightchangedatthenextcorner,shecrossedto

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theothersideofthestreet.ThecarwouldhavetomakeaU-turntokillher.She’druninsideashopandcall911.Helenwasn’tworriedaboutgettinghitwhileshecrossedthestreet.TheLincolnwashemmedinbyaUPStruckandavan.

As she crossed, she looked through the Lincoln’s windshield, hoping to identify thedriver.ThesightleftherfrozeninthemiddleofLasOlas—atleastuntilthelightchangedandtheUPStruckstartedhonking.

TheLincolnwasdrivenbyawomansosmallherwhiteheadbarelyclearedthesteeringwheel.Shewasold,butdetermined.Noonewasgoingtopushheraround.Sherefusedtogomorethantenmilesanhour,nomatterhowmuchthecarsbehindherhonked.

Thatwasherhit-and-runkiller?Helenfeltridiculous.Apalmettobugasbigasabagelskitteredoverherfoot.Helengaveadisgustedshriek.

Thatstartledanorangecat,anditranoutfrombehindabush.Thud.Thud.Thud.Herheartwasracing.Helenhadbrought this onherself. She’d stirred thingsup, spurredonby greed and

fear. She wanted the financial ease twenty-five-thousand dollars would give her. Shewanted Detective Dwight Hansel and Christina’s death to go away. She’d poked andproddeduntilshefoundthosepicturesandarrestrecords.She’dseenintothesoulsoffivepeople.Nowoneofthemwaslookingather.Oneofthemwantedherdead.

At last,Helenwashome.Shepassed through thecomforting smogofPhil’sburningweedandlockedthedoortoherapartment.Shefeltsafe.UntilsherememberedPhil’spotsmokeandhadanotherhorriblethought.

The caller had not asked, “Where are the photos?” or “Where are the papers?”Theinhumanvoicehaddemanded,“Where’sthestuff?”

Drugs.Thecallercouldbelookingfordrugs.That’swhatChristinawassellinginthosepretty little purses: candy-colored pills and capsules. She took them with her thatSaturday.Theydisappeared,andChristinawasneverseenaliveagain.

Helenknewwhat drugdealers didwhen youdouble-crossed them. Shewatched theTVnews.She’dseenthebodybagsbeingbroughtout,theblood-spatteredwalls,thetalesof torture. They could shoot her knee caps, one at a time. They could give her aColombiannecktie.Theycould leaveher,bleedingandstarving,todie inarat-infestedabandonedbuilding.

They’d kill her for sure, slowly and painfully. BecauseHelen didn’t know anything.Shedidn’tevenknowwhattheywanted.

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“Howmuchdoyouwant?”Tiffanysaid.She stood defiantly under the painting of the cruel-lipped Juliana looking equally

tough.Noprettypink ruffles and curls today. Shewasdressed indeadblack,her longblondehairhangingstraightdownherback.ATiffanythatHelenhadneverseenbeforehadwalkedintothestore.

Helen thought Tiffany was soft and yielding, giggly. This Tiffany was hard anddetermined. It was like finding out that Barbie dolls were made of titanium. Yet thisTiffanymadesense.Tiffanywouldhavetobetoughtosurviveinherworld—andsmartenoughtodisguiseit.

HelenhadcalledTiffanythatmorningandsaid,“CouldItalkwithyouprivatelynexttimeyou’reinthestore?”

“I’llbethereintenminutes,”Tiffanyhadsaid.Shedidn’taskwhyHelenwantedtoseeher.ShemarchedintoJuliana’swearingsunglassesblackasadrugdealer’scarwindows.Helenrecognizedthesignofaraginghangover.Shealsosawawomanreadyforafight.

Tiffany whipped off the glasses and looked Helen in the eye. “How much do youwant?”shesaid.

“Idon’twantanymoney,”Helensaid.“Don’tplaygameswithme,”Tiffanysaid.“AllIwanttoknowiswhereyouwerewhenChristinawaskilled.”“So you can blackmail me for even more,” Tiffany said. It was weird. Tiffany was

furious,buthereyesstayedwideopen.Theycouldnotnarrow.Therewasn’tenoughskinleftaftertheeyesurgery.

“HowcanIblackmailyouaboutthatweekend?Idon’thaveanyproof.”“Thenwhydoyouwanttoknow?”Tiffanysaid.“Because I have to knowwhere everyonewaswhenChristinawas killed. I’ve got to

solvehermurder,orthepolicewillsuspectme.”Tiffanystartedlaughing.Itwasnotacutegiggle.Itwasaharshbarroombray.“That’s

all?”“Iswear,”Helensaid.“I’mnotgoingtotellanyone.Haveyoueverheardmespread

gossip?”“No,” Tiffany said. She looked Helen up and down. “Not with that pudding face.

You’re from the Midwest. You’re too dumb to lie.” Somehow, things had reversed.Tiffanywasincontrol.

“Iwaswiththepoolboy,”Tiffanysaid,tossingherblondehair.

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“Thepoolwasbroken?Notthefishtank?”Helensaid.“No,youmoron.Wewereinbedthewholeweekend.I’vegotanalibi.Ijustcan’tuse

it. Imadeupthat fishtankstoryyesterdayonthespurof themoment,andit soundedlikeit.LasttimeIdrinkchampagnebeforenoon.”

“Wherewasyourboyfriend,Burt?”Helensaid.“On a gambling cruise. I knew he wouldn’t be back until Tuesday. I wanted some

romance.Iwantedtofeelayoungman’smusclesinsteadofanoldman’sflab.Kurthadasurfer’sbodyandsun-bleachedhair.Hewasmyage.Actually,hewasalittleyounger,butIdon’tlookmyage.”

Helenrealizedshedidn’tknowTiffany’sage.Onagoodday,Tiffanylookedtwenty-five.Today,shelookedforty.

“I can’t believe I’m such a cliché,”Tiffany said. “The pool boy.Next itwill be thetennis instructor and the personal trainer. Never again. It was the first time I’d evercheatedonBurt,anditwillbethelast.Ionlywantedoneweekend.Kurtcalledinsicksohe could spendMonday withme, too. It would be whenChristina got herself killed.That’sjustmyluck.”

“Ihopeitwaseverythingyouwanted,”Helensaid.Sheknewaboutwantingthewrongman.

“Oh,itwas.RightupuntilheleftMondaynight.Thenheaskedmeforathousand-dollar‘loan.’”Asingletearrolleddownhercheek.

Tiffany knew the truth then: Her romantic weekend had been one more serviceprovidedbythepoolboy.

Helenhadbaggedfouralibis,butshewasnolongerenjoyingthegame.Tiffany’ssingletear lefther scaldedwith shame.PoorTiffany. Itmusthavehurtwhen she realized thepoolboywasusingherthesamewaysheusedBurt.

The doorbell chimed, and Helen buzzed in a well-dressed woman and her escort.Helenhadnever seenthewomanbefore, thoughsherecognizedherRalphLaurensuit.Shethoughttheescortlookedfamiliar,too.

Then she realized that the man and woman were not together. He was homicidedetectiveDwightHansel,andhe’dbulledhiswayintotheshop.Helenignoredhimandsettledthewomanintoadressingroomwithenougheveninggownstokeepherbusy.

Hansel was standing at the counter when she returned.Helenwas freezingly polite.“MayIhelpyou?”shesaid.

“Yeah,youcanhelpme,”Hanselsaid,takingouthisnailclippers.“Youcanhelpmefigureoutwhat’sgoingoninhere.”

Clip.Clip.Hewasclippinghisnails.Gross.“Wesellwomen’sapparel,”shesaid.“Doyounow?”hesaid.“Well,Ihadthephonecompanyrunsomenumbershere.You

beentalkingtosomesuppliers,allright,buttheyain’tdealingdresses.”Clip.Clip.Clip.Littlebitsofgray-whitenail flew ineverydirection.One landedon

thecounter.“I’veworkedhere less than twomonths,”Helen said. “Ihaveno ideawhoChristina

called.ItoldyoueverythingIknow.”

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Clip.Clip.Clip.Morenailbitspingedonthecounter.“Maybeyou’dliketotellittoagrandjury,”hesaid.Helenfeltthefeargripher.Hanselsawitinherfaceandpushedharder.“Ifyoulietoa

grandjury,that’sacrime.OrshouldIsayanothercrime?Youmightwanttothinkaboutwhatyou’llbewearingthen.Aretwo-piecesuitsinfashion?”

Clip.Clip.Helendidn’tanswer.“TheBrowardCounty Jail’sgot someniceones for theirwomenprisoners.Sortofa

beige-brown.Thatcolorwouldlookgoodwithyourhair.Onthebacktheysay‘BrowardCountyJail.’How’sthatforafashionstatement?”

Helensaidnothing.Shewastoofrightened.Hanselputawayhisnailclippers, threwhisbusinesscardonthecounter,andwalkedout.

Sheusedthecardtoscrapethenailbitsoffthecounter.Thenshetoreitintopieces.DwightHanselwouldkeepharassingheruntilhefoundsomething,thenhe’dlockher

up.Itwouldn’tmatterthatChristinahadcalledthosedrugdealers.Helenwouldgettheblame.

Meanwhile,shewasgettingdeaththreats.Shehadstumbledontosomething.Shejustdidn’tknowwhat.Thepolice,oratleastDwightHansel,mightthinkChristinawastoomuchofabimbotoblackmailpeople,butHelenknewbetter.

ShethoughttheremightbemoresecretsintheCDs.Therewasstillonetowershehadnotexamined.Butshedidn’twanttostayaloneinthestoreafterclosing,notafterthatcreepyphonecall.

Tarahadcalledinsickthatmorningwiththewineflu,soHelenwasatthestorealone.Businesswasslow.Shedecidedshe’dmadeenoughmoneyforMr.Rogetyesterday.ShewouldtakeabreakandlookfortheDylanCD,theonethatheldJoe’ssecrets.

Helenputoutthe“backin15minutes”signandpulledonherformaltwelve-buttonsearch gloves. She checked every CD in the tower. Nothing. There were no Dylanalbums.

ThereweretwohundredfortyCDsinthosetowers,andshewasgoingtoopeneverycaseifshehadto.Shegrabbedonefromthemiddle:MusicforLovers,acollectionoflovesongs.

Waitaminute.“YouGottaServeSomebody”mightbe ina collection.Maybe that’swhy she couldn’t find it. Five minutes later, Helen spotted the Dylan song in the“Sopranos”soundtrack.

Sheheldherbreathas sheopened theCD.Thephotos insidewere so sad shecouldhardlybeartolookatthem.

The first was taken at night. It showed a ramshackle boat loaded almost to thewaterlinewithpassengers.Thepeoplelookedthin,brown-skinned,andmiserable.Somewereshivering,otherswereclingingtooneanother.Awomanintheforegroundwassoweary, she seemednear collapse.Helen thought shewasnomore than twenty,buthereyesweremucholder.

Theboatwasagroundnearamangroveswamp.Whatdidn’tshowwerethehordesofhungrymosquitoesandtherankstinkofthemurkywater.Somepassengerswerewadinginthedarkwaterorhelpingothersofftheboat.Helenthoughtofstickingherownfeetinthatsnake-infestedmuckandshuddered.

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Thesewereillegalimmigrants.Helenknewit.ShehadseentoomanysceneslikethisonTV,whentheirboatslandedinMiamiorHollywoodBeach.TheINSsentthemrightbackwheretheycamefrom.

Thenshelookedalittlecloser.OneofthemenhelpingpeopleofftheboatwasJoe.Christina’sexwasbringinginillegalimmigrants.Maybethatwaswhyhehadnoalibi

forChristina’sdeath.Hecouldnottellthepolicehewashandlinganillegalshipmentofpeople.

UnlessJoehadanothergoodreasonfornoalibi:hekilledChristinathatweekend.Hisexhadenoughmaterialtoputhimawayforalongtime.

HelenrememberedBrittneyandChristinasittinginthebackofthestore,cacklinglikewitches and brewing revenge for Joe: “Immigration? No. Bad idea . . . Some guys inMiamiwouldliketoknowwhathe’supto,though,andtheyaren’tasniceastheIRS...WhenIfinish,Joewillwishhewasneverborn.”

Instead,Christinahadbeendestroyed.The second photo looked like those 1890s pictures of New York tenements. More

people than Helen could count were crammed in a high-ceilinged, windowless room.They could hardlymove, it was so crowded. Stained, sheetlessmattresses were on thefloor. Four people were sleeping on one. Laundry was hanging across a back corner.Throughthelimpandtatteredclothes,Helensawatoilet.Itwasnearatablewithbread,agiantcanwithaknifestuckinit(peanutbutter?meatspread?),andsodacans.

Thiswasn’taphotographof1890simmigrantmisery.Thesepictureswererecent.Theclothesandshoesweremodern.

Illegalimmigrants.Therewas anotherphotoofwhatwasprobably theoutsideof the samebuilding.At

least,theyawningdoorwaysweresimilar,andtheinsidewallswerethesamedingygreen.Thebuildinglookedlikeawarehouse.Thestreetnumberwaspaintedoverthefrontdoor.In the background were four giant candy-striped smokestacks, a Port Evergladeslandmark.Sailorssteeredtheirboatsbythosesmokestacks.

HelenrememberedthebusinessstoryChristinasquirreledawayinthemanuals.ItsaidJoe’s company had bought a warehouse near Port Everglades. What was that address?Helenstoodup,heardherkneescrack,andfeltneedlesandpinsinherfeet.Shelimpedovertothestackofmanualsandfoundthedullstory.

NowHelenfoundthatstoryriveting.Theaddresseswerethesame.Joewasmixedupwithimportingillegalimmigrants,probablyfromtheCaribbean,and

Christinahadthepicturestoproveit.“YouGottaServeSomebody”wasanotherofheruglyjokes.

Immigrantsmugglingwasa lucrativebusiness, ifJoe’sFerrariwasanyindication,butyouneededthemoralsofaslavetrader.Theimmigrantspaidhighpricestobepackedinleaky tubs and smuggled to America. The cruelest smugglers didn’t even take theirpassengers ashore. They dumped them in the water within sight of land. Some neverknewthey’darrivedinAmerica.Theirdeadbodieswashedashore.

Once here, the unlucky worked as wage slaves, making far less than Helen’s sevenseventy anhour.Helen rememberedChristina askingTara about thekindofmaid shewanted.

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“Do you mind a Haitian?” Christina had said. “What about someone who doesn’tspeakEnglish?”

“Idon’tcarewhattheyspeakaslongastheyscrubmyfloors,”Tarahadsaid.“Brittneyhas a real gem. She pays her almost nothing but room and board. The woman ispracticallyaslave.”

Theywere slaves, chained to their low-paying jobsby their fakepapers, their lackofeducation,andsometimes, their lackofEnglish.They lived in little rooms in luxurioushomesandwereutterlyisolated.Domesticsdidnothangaroundtheyachtcluborgetacappuccino at the local patisserie. They couldn’t complain about their pay or workingconditionsorthey’dbedeported.Theyhadnojobbenefitsandnofuture.

Anyonewhohiredillegalimmigrantsbroketheemploymentlaws,butfewofJuliana’scustomerswantedcabinetposts.

JoewasChristina’ssourceforthosereliablescrubbingslaves.Helenwouldbettherentthat Christina collected a fee for finding maids for her customers. Joe probably got akickback,too.

When they split, Christinawanted revenge, and she knew enough to get Joe in bigtrouble.MaybeDetectiveDwightHanselwasn’tsodumbafterall,ifhebelievedJoehadkilledChristina.Helenhadthemotiverightinherhand.

Helendustedherself off, put awayher twelve-buttonkid gloves, and calledSarah tocrowaboutherdiscoverybeforesheopenedthestoreagain.(Well,shedidn’tsaywhichfifteenminutesshe’dbeback,didshe?)

Shewaslucky.Sarahwashomeandansweringherphone.“I’ve got something,” Helen said. “Something big. These have to be pictures of an

illegalimmigrantsmugglingoperation.AndJoe’sinvolved.”Shedescribedthephotos.“That’s what you say when you see the photos,” Sarah said. “Joe could say he was

rescuing some poor strangers when their boat went aground. Does the photo indicatetheseareillegalimmigrants?”

“No,”Helensaid.“Butit’sobvious.”“Why?Because they’re not holding visas?You can’t evenprove that boat photowas

takeninFlorida.ItcouldhavebeentheBahamasorsomeotherisland.”“What about those awful warehouse photos?” Helen said. “One shows the striped

smokestacks.That’sdefinitelyFortLauderdale.”“Anydateonthosepictures?”“No.”Helencouldfeelhertriumphslippingaway.“Ididn’tthinkso,”Sarahsaid.“Joecouldsaythephotosweretakenbeforehebought

thewarehouse.He’snotinthosepictures,ishe?”“No,”Helensaid.“Ihaveabsolutelynothing.”“Butyoudo.Youhaveaplacetostart.”“Youdon’texpectmetogotoJoe’sofficeandconfronthim,doyou?”“Areyounuts?”Sarahsaid.“ThecopsthinkJoedidit,too.Stayawayfromthatman.

He’sdangerous.”“But I can talk toBrittney,”Helen said. She remembered those long afternoons the

women spent on the black loveseats, whispering their hatred for Joe, planning his

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downfall. “Brittney had no love for Joe. She helped plot revenge against him. I betBrittneyhasthedirtonthatmaidbusiness.”

“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Sarahasked.“Somethingsafeandsmart forachange,”Helensaid.“Brittneyhas thekeytothis. I

haveheraddressinourfiles.It’stimeIpaidheravisit.”

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Fifty-five.Sixty.Sixty-five.HelenfeltaroundinsideChocolate,herstuffedbear,formoremoney.Shepulledouta

crumpledfivedollarbillandtwosingles.Seventy-twodollars.Thatwasallshehadsavedaftertherentwaspaid.

ThecabtoBrittney’shouseshouldcostabouttwentydollarsround-trip,butyouneverknew.Peggywouldhavedrivenher,butHelendidn’twanttodragPeggyintothis.Abuswastwobucks,butthenextonewasn’tuntileightp.m.,andthe lastbus leftBrittney’sneighborhoodbeforeten.Thatmightnotgiveherenoughtime.

Helenputtheseventy-twodollarsinherpurse,thenwalkedtotheRiversideHotelonLasOlasandaskedthedoormantocallacab.Shegavehimthetwosingles.

The cab driver had a heavy accent Helen could not place, but she understood onething:hewasrude.Helistenedtoaradiostationturneduploud.ItsoundedlikeFrench,but not quite.Haitian-Creole?He did not turn on the air conditioner.Helen amusedherselfbycountingtheacnescarsonthebackofhisneckwhilethecabidledintraffic.

Brittney lived in BridgeHarbour, a high-priced neighborhood near the SeventeenthStreetBridge. Itwasanoddmixof architecture.Theolderhouseswere sprawlingone-storyplaces thatknewhowtohunkerdowninahurricane.Thenewup-thrustingtractmansions were two- and three-story affairs, badly designed for high winds. The fakeSpanishtileswouldturnintoFrisbees.Thebalconies,cupolas,andothergewgawswouldsailoffintothestorm.Thebuilderssworethetallwindowswerehurricane-proof,butthatclaimhadnotbeentestedyet.

Helencouldnotadmiretheview.Newhouseswerepoppinguplikezitsatprom-timein Bridge Harbour. Magnificent mansions overlooked the aqua Porta-Potties of theconstructionsitenextdoor.

Brittneylivedinatwo-storywhitecube.Itlookedstarklyexpensive,liketheofficesofatop-notch plastic surgery group.Helen could see a swimming poolwith awaterfall. AHatteras cabin cruiserwas tiedup at the backyarddock.Parked in the drivewaywas ablackLandRoverandaredPorsche.Brittneyhadafewbucks.Whywasshedatingagingmobsters?Orwasthathowshegothermoney?

LuxurycarswerecommonasHondasinthisneighborhood.Helenwonderedhowtheneighborstoleratedtheoldgraybeaternextdoor.Itsrustedtrunkwastiedwithtwine.Atiredwomaninawhiteuniformheavedtwobagsontotheseatanddroveoff.Thebeat-upcarmustbelongtoaservant.

“Thisisthehouse.Stophereandwait,please,”Helensaid,yellingatthedriverabove

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theHaitianradiostation.“Youpaymeupfrontnow,”thedriversaid.HedidnotputthecarinPark.“I’ll pay, but youhave towait forme,”Helen said. She countedout the fare to the

exactpenny.“Youdidn’ttipme,”thedriversaid,indignantly.“Iwon’t,unlessyouwait,”shesaid.OnlythendidheputthecabinPark.Hewasgoingtowait.Brittney’shouselookedbiggerandmoreimpersonalasHelenapproached.Theflower

beds had spiky plants and bristly bushes growing in rocks. The bronze front doorsbelongedonamuseum.Thepetflapcutintothegaragedoorlookedtooordinaryforthisplace.

Achunkybrown-skinnedwomaninasnow-whiteuniformansweredthedoor.Helenwonderedifthiswasthewonderfulwageslave,Maria.

“Youwaithere,please,”thewomansaid.TheinsideofBrittney’shomewasallwhite:whitemarblefloor,whitetexturedwalls,

angularwhitecoucheslikeicefloesnexttoiceshardsofglasstables.Whiteorchidsweretheonlylivingthingsinthisicepalace,andtheylookedmadeofwax.

ThewallsboastedalesserPicasso.Helenthoughtthecolorsweredrab.The air conditioning was set so low, Helen was shivering by the time Brittney

appeared.Shewalkedlanguidly,asifshewasdriftinginadream.Brittneywore awhite stringbikini.Helenhad flossedher teethwithmorematerial.

Brittneywasalmostnudeandabsolutelyperfect.Shewasnotcoldinthatgetup.Shewastheprincesswhoruledthisicepalace.

“Helen,fromtheshop.Whatbringsyouheretoday?”Brittneysaid.Herwhisperyvoicewasclearandcool,likeabreezefromacave.ShedidnotofferHelenanythingtodrinkoraskhertositdown.

“Iwantedtoaskaboutyourmaid,”Helensaid.“Doyouneedone?”Brittneysaid.Wasthereahintofcontempt?Helencouldn’ttell.

Asusual,Brittneyshowednoemotion.“No,acustomerdoes,”Helenlied.“Tararavesaboutyourmaid,Maria.”“Christinamadethearrangements,”Brittneysaid.“AndChristina’sdead.”“Doyouknowwhereshegotthemaids?”“Whydoyouask?”Brittneydidnotdenythatsheknew.“WasitJoe?Washepartofanillegalimmigrantoperation?”“Idon’tknowwhatyoumean,”Brittneysaid.Shedid,Helenthought.“Ithinkhehelpsbringtheminandkeepsthemathiswarehouse.”“Iwouldn’tknow,”Brittneysaid.“Ithinkyoudo,”Helensaid.“ThepolicebelieveJoekilledChristina.Don’tyoucare?”“OfcourseIcare,”Brittneysaid.ButalookattheicepalaceshowedBrittneydidnot

careforanylivingthingexceptherself.Helentriedtoappealtoherself-interest.“YouandChristinawereplottingagainstJoe,”Helensaid.“Whydoyousaythat?”Brittneywhispered.“BecauseIheardyou.IfJoefoundoutaboutyourplans,youmayneedprotection.I

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couldputyouintouchwithahomicidedetective.”“Andgetmyselfintrouble?No,thankyou,”Brittneysaid.“I’msureyoucouldgetimmunityforhiringanillegalalien.”“I’mnotworriedaboutthat,”Brittneysaid.“TellingthepoliceaboutJoewillgetme

killed.Doyouknowthekindofpeoplehedealswith?Theywouldputmeinabarrel.”“Whoarethey,Brittney?Tellme,ifyou’reafraidtotellthepolice.”“They’re—”But Brittney never finished. A big ball of white fur streaked into the room, then

stoppedatHelen’sfeet.Itwasacatwithgoldeneyes,acuddlygray-and-whitebody,andfrontfeetthesizeofcatchers’mitts.

“Thumbs!”Helensaid.“Mrrrrr,”thecatsaid,rubbingagainstherlegs.“HisnameisMittens,”Brittneysaid.Themaidcamerunningin.“Sorry,missis,sorry.Iknowyousaylockhimin,butthe

cathegotout.Heopensdoors.Heisverysmart.”“Don’tstandtherejabbering,Maria,”Brittneysaid.“Gethimoutofhere.”Mariapickedup thebig cat. It struggled toget free, scratchedher arm, and jumped

down.“Here,Thumbs,”Helensaid.Thecattriedtoruntoher,butMariatackledtheanimal,

thistimesuccessfully.Shecarriedhimintothedepthsofthehouse.Helenhadnodoubtsnow.“That’sThumbs.That’sChristina’scat.Theonethepolice

can’tfind.YoukilledChristina.”“Killedher?That’sridiculous.YouareaccusingmeofmurderbecauseIhaveacat?”“Asix-toedcat,”Helensaid.“JustlikeChristina’s.”“Polydactylismisnotuncommon,”Brittneysaid.“YouwantedChristina’scat.Youtriedtobuyitfromher.Iwasthere.”“Youbetterwatchwhat you’re saying,”Brittney said. Ice crystals seemed to form in

thatcoldwhisper.“Icanslapyouwithalawsuit.”Shewasalmostnakedinherstringbikini,buthernuditygaveheragreaterauthority,

asifclotheswereforlessermortals.“Ifyou’regoingtoaccusemeofmurder,youbetterproveit.NowgetoutbeforeIcall

securityandhavethemthrowyouout.”

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BrittneydidnotdenykillingChristina.Onlywhen shewas back in the hot cab didHelen realize this.Onlywhen shewas

watchingthedriver’severgreenairfreshenerswingingfromtherearviewmirrordidHelenunderstand.

Brittney never said “You’re crazy!” or “How dare you?” or “I didn’t kill her,” oranythingelseaninnocentwomanwouldsay.Instead,shethreatenedtosueHelenandcallsecurity.ShewantedtoeithershutHelenuporgetheroutofthere.

BythetimeHelenunderstoodthis,thecabhadpeeledoutofBrittney’scirculardrive.Helenwassorattled,shewasn’tsurehowshegotoutofthaticehouse.Shedidn’tknowwho opened themassive front doors. Seeing the deadChristina’s cat was like seeing aghost.SheknewthatwasThumbs.Howcouldsheforgetthoseenormousfeet?

HelenhadaccusedBrittneyofmurderinherownhome.Didshereallybelievethat?Yes.WhyelsewouldBrittneyhavethatcat?WhowouldmurderChristinaandgivethe

cat toBrittney?Whatkillerwouldwaste timecorrallingacatandpacking its litterboxandfood?

Brittney killed Christina. It was the only explanation that made sense. She wantedChristinadead.Andshewantedthecat.

Butwhy did Brittney kill Christina? Blackmail was the only answer. Except Helencouldn’t find the evidence. She had to have a reason. She also had to prove that wasChristina’ssix-toedcat.

WhilethecabdriverblastedherwithHaitiantalkradio,Helenrehashedtheunpleasantscene. She was disgusted with herself. She was such an amateur, blurting out anaccusationofmurder.ButBrittney—orrather,Brittney’scat—caughtHelenbysurprise.

Still,Helen wished she had not behaved so stupidly. Brittney hadmoney, and thatmeantshehadpower.Helen,whousedtohavemoney,knewthis.Shewas justadressshopclerkwithnomoneyandnoconnections.Shecouldn’taccuseawomanlikeBrittneywithoutgoodreason.

Evenworse,Brittneyhadconnectionsoutsidethe law.Hermobsterex-boyfriend, forinstance.WouldhedoBrittneyafavorforoldtime’ssake?

Lord,I’veopenedupmybigmouthagain,Helenthought.ItgotmeintroubleinSt.Louis,andnowI’mindeeperinFlorida.

Helenwassounnerved,shethoughtshesawablackLandRover,liketheoneBrittneydrove,followinghercababoutthreecarsback.

Ridiculous.Paranoid.SUVswereallovertheroadsinFlorida.AnSUVwasbarreling

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towardthecabnow,highbeamsblindingHelen.Shecouldnotmakeoutthecolorinthedark.Wasitdarkgreen?Black?Maroon?

She didn’t know themake, either. It honked at the cab, flipped off the driver, andpassedontherightside.ItturnedouttobeablackCadillacEscalade.ButHelencouldnotbesureitwasthesameSUVshe’dnoticedseveralblocksback.

“DoyouseeablackLandRoverfollowingus?”Helenaskedthecabdriver.Heshruggedandturneduptheradio.Itwasasensibleresponse.U.S.1wasclogged

withSUVs.Helenlookedanxiouslyintothedarkeningnight.NowthreehugeSUVswerebehind

them,andanotheronewasalongsidethecab.Itwasliketravelinginanelephantherd.AChevyTahoewasgainingonthem.AmonsterToyotaLandCruiserwasnexttothe

cab,butitwasdarkgrayanddrivenbyamantalkingonhiscellphone.WhenthecabturnedoffLasOlastohersidestreet,HelennolongersawanySUVs.

Shemusthave imagined theblackLandRover. Itwasherownguilt followingher,notBrittney.

She was relieved to be home. The Coronado looked like a tropical dream tonight.Floodlightshighlightedtheoldpalmtrees.Bougainvilleaspilleddriftsofpurplebloomsonthesidewalkandintotheturquoisepool.Theairsmelledcoolandfresh.

Ican’tbelieveIliveinaplacesobeautiful,Helenthought.WhenshepassedPhil the invisiblepothead’s, she smelled theburningweed.Hehad

already lit up for the night. Helen was beginning to think the man was nothing butsmoke.

Itwasonly teno’clock,butHelenwasdeadtired.Once inbed, shecouldnot sleep.She kept thinking of her humiliating scenewithBrittney. She tossed and turned untileleven.Thebedsqueakedwhenshemoved.Tonight,themattressfeltlikeitwasstuffedwithgreencantaloupes.Theyrolledeverytimesheturned.

Thisinsomniacalledfordesperatemeasures.Helendecidedtocleanherapartment,aonce-in-a-blue-moon activity. If nothing else, it might shock her system so she’d fallasleep.

Shescrubbedthebathroom.(Wasshegoingbald?Wheredidallthathaironthefloorcomefrom?)Shecleanedthekitchen.Shethrewoutsomevintage lasagneinthefridge.Byonea.m.,shehaddustedthefurniture,moppedthefloors,andstackedthemagazinesforrecycling.

That’swhenshesawtheBestFriendsmagazinefromSarah’shouse.HelensatdownintheBarcaloungertofinishthearticleontheatercats,whenamoreluridstorycaughthereye:“Hair-RaisingConvictions!WhenCatsandDogsAretheWitnesses,TheirDNAIstheEvidence.”

The police were using the sameDNA techniques on animal hair that they used onhumanhair,thestorysaid.They’dsolvedseveralmurderswithanimalDNA.Alineaboutalong-buriedmurdervictimjumpedoutatHelenlikeafriskypup:“Whentheydugherup, she had a single dog hair on her socks. Sure enough, itmatched the transvestite’spuppy.”

Inanothercase,cathairsonamurderer’sjacketprovedthatthekillerhadhadcontactwiththevictim’scat—andthevictim.Themanwasconvicted,thankstothecathair.The

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policeofficerwho’dusedpetDNAtocrackthecasewonanaward.Did the police find cat hairs on Christina’s body? Helen thought Detective Karen

Gracesaidtheydid.Sheknewthey’dfoundagroomingbrushfilledwithcathairinherpenthouse.

Helenhadthesolutiontoherproblemsinherhand.Shecouldprovethatthesix-toedanimalwasChristina’scat.ShewouldsolveChristina’smurder.

She’dcallDetectiveGracefirstthinginthemorning.Shereachedupandturnedoffthelight.AsshedriftedofftosleepontheBarcalounger,

Helenwasspendingthetwenty-five-thousand-dollarreward.

Helenwasdreamingaboutbarbecue.Expensivebarbecue,usingonlythefinestwood.Itsmelleddelicious.

Thenthewindshifted,andthesmokewasrightinherface.Helenwokeupcoughingandchoking.She still smelledbarbecue,but therewerenastyodorsunderneath itnow:burnedelectricalwiring,hotmetalandmeltingplastic.Hereyesstungandwatered.Theroomwasfilledwithsmoke.

Helen’s apartment was on fire. The blaze had started in the bedroom.The chenillespreadwasasheetofflames.Blacksmokeboileduptotheceiling.Thebedroomrugwasonfire.Shecouldnotseetheslidingglassdoors.Helencouldnotgetoutthebackway.

She tried to remember what she was supposed to do.Don’t stand up, she recalled.Crawltothenearestexit.Thefrontdoorwasonlyfifteenfeetaway.

Shedropped to the floorandbegancrawling.Thecrawl seemed to take forever.Shecouldn’tsee.Shetriednottobreathe.Theapartment,whichbarelyseemedbigenoughtoturnaroundin,nowwentonformiles.Itwasfilledwithdeadlysmokeandfumes.Whatifshegotlost?Shestuckherrighthandoutandfeltforthewall.Followthewall.Followthewall.

Herhandhitatable,andsomethingfellonthefloorandshattered.Alamp?Avase?Shedidn’tknow.

I’m getting closer, she thought. I can’t bemore than five feet from the door. I canalmostreachupandtouchthedoorknob,ifmylungsdon’texplodebeforeImakeit.Theairwassohotandthickitwasalmostsolid.HelenpulledherT-shirtupoverhermouthandnose,toshieldherlungsfromthehotsmoke.Andshekeptcrawling.

Helen could hear sirens now. Someone must have called the fire department. Shereachedupandfoundtheskinnypanesofglassinthejalousiedoor.Shewasgaspingandchoking,stupidwithsmoke.Shefeltforthedoorknob.Thedoordidn’topen.Helenhadlockedanddead-boltedit.

Helenpulledherselfuptoherkneesandstruggledtounlockthedoor.Thedeadboltkeywas in the lock, but the doorwouldnot open. Shepulled at the lockwith all herstrength.Shetriedtoturnthekey,butitwouldn’tmove.Shewastrapped.Shecouldnotbreathe.Shefelthervisioncloseinanddarkenuntilitwasasblackasthesmoke.

As she fell to the floor, sheheard glass shatter.Cool air poured in thebrokendoor.Helen coughed and gagged. Smoke boiled and roiled and twisted itself into darkphantoms.

Helen’svisionclearedalittle.Shefeltstronghandspullheroutside.Shegulpedinfresh

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air,faintlytingedwithburningpotsmoke.Shesawthreewordsfloatingintheblackness:“ClaptonIsGod.”Thewhitelettersstoodoutlikeacelestialmessageinthesmokydark.ButbeforeHelencouldfigureoutwhattheymeant,everythingwentblackagain.

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The sunwas shining inHelen’s eyes. Someone had his hand clapped over hermouth.ThenHelenrealizeditwasn’tahand.Itfelthard,likeplastic.Shetriedtopullawayfromthethingoverhermouthandsitup.

Stronghandspushedherbackdown.Awoman’svoicesaid,“Takedeepbreathsnow.Steady . . . steady . . . relax. You’re going to be fine. You’re breathing nice and easy.Anotherdeepbreath and I’ll takeoff theoxygenmask.Doyouunderstand?Nodyourheadyes.”

Helen nodded. That wasn’t sun in her eyes. It was overhead lights. She was in ahospitalemergencyroom,lyingonanarrowgurney.

Theoxygenmaskwasremoved.Helen’slungshurt.Hermouthwasdryandashy.Shecouldn’tgetridofthetasteofsmoke.Herclothesandhairsmelledlikeafireplace.Shewouldnevereatbarbecueagain.

“What’syourname?”thedoctorasked.Helenalmostgiggled.Thedoctor’snamewasCurlee,andshehadwild frizzybrown

hairpulledintoanunrulyponytail.Shesoundedbriskandcompetent.“HelenHawthorne.”“Whatdayisit?”Dr.Curleesaid.“Saturday,”Helensaid.“Wait.It’saftermidnight.ItmustbeSunday.”“Whoispresident?”“Thatbozoneitheroneofusvotedfor,”aloudvoicesaid.“She’sfine.”ItwasHelen’slandlady,Margery.Shewaswearinganotherpurpleshortsset.Thisone

wasturnedinsideout,withthetaginfront.Margerymusthavedressedinahurry.“I’ve come to get her out of here,”Margery said. “Hospitals are full of sick people.

She’llcatchaninfection.”“Areyounextofkin?”thedoctorasked.“I’mheraunt,”Margerysaid.Helenstared.Herlandladyliedwithoutaqualm.“And

I’mpayingherERbill.”“No,Ihavemoney,”Helensaid.“Sodo I,”Margery said. “Anddon’t arguewithme, youngwoman, or I’ll tell your

mother.”ThatwastheonlythreatthatcouldquietHelen.Sheshutupaboutthebill.“She’ssufferingfromsmokeinhalation,”Dr.Curleesaid.“Helendoesnotappeartobe

burnedorinjuredexceptforacutonherarm.Luckily,itwon’trequirestitches.“We’re doing some basic lab work to make sure she’s OK, and we’ll check her

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electrolytes.We need to keep her for observation for awhile. Then, if everything is allright,shecangohome.”

“Howmuchlongerwillitbe?”Margerysaid.“Anotherthreeorfourhours,ifallhertestsgoright.”“I’llstaywithher,”Margerysaid.Thedoctor’sbeeperwentoff,andshe leftMargeryandHelenalone inthecurtained

cubicle.“IsCalwithyou?”Helensaid.“Cal?WhywouldCalbehere?”Margerysaid.“Becausehepulledmeoutofthatburningapartment.Ithoughthemighthavecome

alongwithyou.Iwantedtothankhimforsavingme.”“Caldidn’trescueyou,”Margerysaid.“Phildid.”“Theinvisiblepothead?IfinallysawhimandIdon’tremember?”“Iwishyou’dquitcallinghimthat,”Margerysaid,testily.“Iseethatboyallthetime.”Helenfeltgroggyandthickheaded.“Isawsomethingelse,too,”shesaid.“Theseweird

whitelightsorlettersspellingout‘ClaptonIsGod.’Itwaslikeavision.”“Vision,my sweet Aunt Fanny,”Margery said. “You saw Phil’s favoriteT-shirt. It’s

blackwithwhite letters.Hegot it fromEdSeelig,aguywhosoldClaptonsomeofhisguitars.It’shisprizedpossession.I’msurprisedPhilriskedittosaveyou.”

Helenputherheaddownonthethinpillowandtriedtoremember.SherecalledPhil’shands,callousedandstrong.ButshecouldnotseeafaceabovethatT-shirt.

Shealsorememberedtheboilingsmokeandthebedwithsheetsofflame.Herfunkylittleapartmentwasgone.Helenfeltasharpstabofregret.ThefunnyboomerangtableandtheexuberantBarcaloungerwereruined.Thesqueakybedwasnobigloss.

“Oh,Margery.Yourbeautifulapartment.It’sallmyfault.I’msosorry.”“It’snotyourfault,”Margerysaid.“Thefiremarshalthinksitwasarson.”“Arson!”“Somebodywantedtoburnyoualive,”Margerysaid.The landlady’s shrewdoldeyes

bored into her, and Helen felt like she was in the sixth grade and had been caughtsmokinginthegirl’sbathroom.

“Now,youbettertellmewhatyou’vebeenupto.Allofit.Becauseit’snolongeryourownprivatebusiness.Theysetfiretomyapartmentbuilding.It’smybusinessnow.”

Forthenexttwohours,thetwowomenstayedinthechilly,uncomfortablecubiclewhileHelentalkedaboutJuliana’s:theblackmail,thedrugs,theillegalmaids,eventhebannedbiopolymerinjections.ShefinishedwiththereappearanceofThumbs,thedeadwoman’ssix-toedcat.

Margeryhad somethingofherowntoadd.“Apolicedetective,KarenGrace I thinkher name was, came by yesterday, asking where you were the weekend Christina wasmurdered,”Margerytoldher.“IsaidyouwentonadatewithCalSaturdaynight,mopedaroundtheplaceSunday,andwenttoworkonMondaylikealways.PeggyandCaltoldhersamething.”

“DidshetalkwithPhil?”“Hedidn’tanswerhisdoor.Andhehadthegoodsensenottolightupwhileshewas

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there.”Occasionally someone would come in and stick Helen with a needle or make her

breatheintoamachine.Butmostlythetwowomenwerealone.TheytalkeduntilHelenranoutofthingstosay.

“Now,whodoyouthinksetfiretomyapartment?”Margerysaid.“Brittney,”Helensaid,withouthesitation.“Youdon’tthinkitcouldbeadrugdealer?OrJoe?”“Theywouldhavejustkilledme.Theywouldn’tfoolaroundtryingtoburnme.Itwas

Brittney.SheneverdeniedkillingChristina.Sheknewthatwasamistake,andI’d talk.Shehadtoshutmeup.Thetimingisright,too.Brittneyfollowedmehome,thencamebackandstartedthefire.”

“Areyougoingtothepolice?”“Andtellthemwhat?Thatarich,well-connectedwomantriedtokillmebecauseIsaw

hercat?Ihaven’tashredofevidence.”“It’stheirjobtogettheevidence,”Margerysaid.“Youshouldtellthem.”“Itriedthatonce,”Helensaid.“DwightHanselactedlikewewereabunchofbimbos.

Hethinksonlymenaresmartenoughtomurder.”“Youcan’tpretendnothinghappened,”Margerysaid.“I’m going to search those CD towers again. Then I’ll try to prove that cat was

Christina’s.Ifoundaway.Atleast,IthoughtIdid.IhadthismagazinestoryabouthowsomepoliceareusingcatDNAtosolvecrimes.Butnowit’sburnedupwitheverythingelse.”

“Idon’tthinkso,”Margerysaid.“Youhadamagazineclutchedinyourhandwhenyouwerecarriedout.Infact,itwastheonlythingyousaved.”

“Terrific.Ileftmypurseandgoodclothesinthefireandsavedamagazine.”“Yourclothesarefine.Theysmell likesmoke,that’sall.Theinsurancecompanytold

me where to send them for cleaning. We’ll buy you some things in the meantime.Insurancewillcover it.Thefirefighters foundyourpurse.It’sOK.Butyourteddybearwastotaled.”

“PoorChocolate,”Helensaid.“Well,atleastIgothisstuffing.That’swhereIkeptmymoney.IstillfeelterribleaboutwhathappenedtotheCoronado.”

“Relax,”Margerysaid.“I’vegot insuranceuptheyingyang.Imightevengetnewairconditionersandapaintjob.Andyou’llhaveallnewfurnitureinyourapartment.”

“ButIlovedtheold,”Helensaid.“Thenyoushallhaveit.I’vegotastorageroomfullofthatstuff.”“Anewbedmightbenice,though,”Helensaid.“Ithinkwecanswingthat.”“I’mgoingtohavetofindaplacetostaywhilemyapartmentisbeingfixed.”“Youcanhave2C.ThatfraudDanielisgone.Itoldhimtopackupandgetout.”“Didn’tyouhavetogivehimthirtydays’notice?”“Notifhewascheatingoldladies.Tookofflikehewasonfire.”HelenwincedatMargery’schoiceofwords.Shelookeddownathersoot-streakedshirt

andshorts.“WhatamIgoingtoweartoworktomorrow?Imeantoday.”“Today’sSunday,”Margerysaid.“Youdon’thavetoworryaboutgoingtowork.It’s

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fiveinthemorning.Ifthehospitaleverletsusoutofhere,you’regoingstraighttobed.”Onehourlater,Dr.CurleesaidHelencouldgohome.Margerybeganissuingorders.

Someone broughtHelen’s belongings in a plastic hospital bag: her tennis shoes,whichlookedliketwocharcoalbriquets,andasingedcopyofBestFriendsmagazine.

Helenwasexhausted.Margeryseemedtobegainingenergy.Sheroundedupthepapersto sign, then trackeddown thenursewith the obligatorywheelchair and loadedHelenintohercar.

HelenwassotiredshestumbledupthestepstoDaniel’soldapartment,2C.ShetriedtohelpMargeryputfreshsheetsonthebed,butherlandladysaidHelenwasinthewayand shooed her into the shower. Margery left out fresh towels and a T-shirt for anightgown.EvenafterHelenwashedherhairtwice,itstillsmelledofsmoke.

“You look better,” Margery said, when Helen came out of the bathroom. “Well,cleaner,anyway.There’scoffeeinthecupboard.Opentheminiblindswhenyougetup,andI’llbringyoubreakfast.”

Helenthankedherlandladyandcrawledbeneaththesheets.Justbeforeshefellasleep,HelenrealizedthatshewasinDaniel’sbedatlonglast.

She woke up at noon. Everything smelled like a dead fire and tasted like smoke.Herthroatwasdryandscratchy,andshehadanastycough.Helenopeneduptheblinds,andMargerycameoverwithorangejuice,abagel,andapurpleshortsset.

“Ithinktheseareyoursize,”shesaid,“butyou’restuckwiththeblackenedtennisshoesuntilwehitthemall.Doyouwanttoseeyourapartment?”

“Idon’tthinkI’mready,”Helensaid.Herpursesmelledlikeasmokedham.Hermoneywasusable,butMargerywouldn’t

letHelenspendherowncash.“Letinsurancepayforit.I’vebeenmakingpremiumsonthisplacesincebeforeyouwereborn.”

MargeryboughtHelentwosuits,twoblouses,underwear,shorts,T-shirts,andshoesattheSawgrassMillsMall.Theyhadlunch,althoughthechickensaladhadaslightlysmokyflavortoHelen.ButshefinallyfeltfortifiedtofacethedamagesattheCoronado.

The sickly smoke smell hitHelen at thedoor.The living roomandkitchenweren’tbad. They reeked of smoke and were covered with greasy black grime, but they wererecognizable.Helen could evenuse the cosmetics she found in thebathroom, althoughshedrewthelineatbarbecue-minttoothpaste.Thebrokenjalousiedoorwasboardedup.Thatmadetheroomdarkerandhidsomeofthedamage.

But the bedroom frightened her. The bed was a blackened mass, burned to thebedsprings. She felt queasy just looking at it. She could have been part of thatunrecognizablecharredhorror.

Thefiremarshalthoughtso,too.“Theway you had the pillows and covers arranged, the arsonistmust have thought

someonewasinthebed.You’reluckytheydidn’tseeyousleepingontheBarcalounger.”“There’snodoubtthiswasarson?”Helenasked.“None,” the fire marshal said. “We found the burn patterns, and we found potato

chips.”Potato chips? Helen thought she’d heard wrong. But the fire marshal told her that

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someprofessionalarsonistsusedpotatochipsas theperfect fire starter.Chipswereoily,highlyflammable,andconsumedbytheflames.

Atrailofchipswouldleadtothemainfirestarter.“Theindividualslidopenyourpatiodoorsandsplashedbarbecuestarteralloveryourcarpettothebed.Thentheindividuallitthechipsandhadtimetogetoutbeforethefirereallytookoff.Exceptthisarsonistdidn’tquitegetitright.Wefoundsomechipsleftbehindunburnedinthedampgrass.”

This was no pro, the investigators decided. Still, there had been enough fire to killHelen.Ifshehadnotfallenasleepinthe livingroom,Helenwouldhaveroastedinherownbed.Itsblackened,burned-outskeletontauntedher.

Helenfeltrage,hotastheflamesofthenightbefore.Brittneysetthatfire.Shewasnotgettingawaywiththis.

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Chapter32

HelencouldhearthephoneringingasshestruggledtounlockthegreendooratJuliana’s.Itwasanangry,impatientring.

“Thebossiscalling,andhe’snothappy,”Helensaid,sprintingforthephone.“Icantellbythering.”Shewasbackatworkbutstillrecoveringfromthefirethedaybefore.Sheranalittleslowerthanusual.

“You’resilly,”Tarasaid.“Phonessoundthesame.”But they didn’t.Helen knew this call sounded angry, andMr. Roget usually called

fromCanadawhenthestoreopened.“You’vesoldupastorm.WhywouldOldTightwadbeangry?”HelencaughtthephoneonthefourthringandprayedMr.RogethadnotheardTara

callhimOldTightwad.Mr.Rogetdidn’tbothertosaygoodmorning.“Helen,Iwanttotalktoyouaboutthat

champagneshowing,”hesaid.Howcouldhebeangryaboutthat?Helenthought.Ididamonth’sworthofbusiness

inthreehours.“Iseeyouboughtthreebottlesofchampagneforfortydollarseach,”Mr.Rogetsaid.“Yes,sir.Piper-HeidsieckExtraDry.”“You realize that comes to one-hundred-twenty dollars. U.S. dollars, not Canadian.

Whoauthorizedyoutospendthat?”hesaid.“Noone,sir.ButlookhowmuchIsold.”“Youaresupposedtosell.That’syourjob.Itisnotyourjobtowastegoodmoneyon

overpricedswill.I’mdockingyourpayattherateofonedollaranhouruntilyoupayforthechampagne.”Hehungupwithoutsayinggood-bye.

Helenslammeddownthephone.She’dmadeOldTightwadthousandsofdollars,andhe’ddemotedhertosixseventyanhour.

“Whatdidhedo?”Tarasaid.“Dockedmeadollaranhourtopayforthechampagne.”“That’sheinous,”Tarasaid.Foronce,Juliana’sfavoritewordfitthecircumstances.“Itisheinous,”Helenagreed.“Itwilltakemethreeweekstopayoffthatchampagne.

Butyouknowwhat?He’snevergoingtogetthatmoneyfromme,becauseI’llbeatmynewjob.Thatwasthelaststraw.Iwillfindajob,nomatterwhat.”

“Whenyougo,Igo,”Tarasaid.“Iwon’tworkforhimaminutelonger.”After Mr. Roget’s reprimand, Helen did not care about selling clothes, but the

customersboughtanyway.Shehadtoworkhardnottotakeoutherangeronthem.In

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theslowtimes,shetypedoutanewrésumé.Sheprinteditontheofficeequipment,usingstorepaperandenvelopes.Takethat,Mr.Roget.

Helen was angry. Angry at her cheap boss, who would not spend money to makemoney.AngryatBrittney,whowasgettingawaywithmurder.Angryatherself, fornotfindingtheevidencetonailBrittney.

WhenTarawenttolunch,Helenstoodinthestockroomandstaredatthetwotowers.SomewhereinthoseCDswastheevidenceagainstBrittney.WherewasthatstupidDonHo album? Helen would have to go through every album in both towers—all twohundred forty. Sheput out the “back in fifteenminutes” sign tomake sure shewasn’tdisturbed. If Mr. Roget lost business, too bad. Then she pulled on her twelve-buttonsearch gloves.The endless stacks ofCDs seemed to taunt her.Nothing in her lifewasworkingoutright.Nothing.

Helenwas so frustrated, she took the closest tower and shook it. She heard an oddrattlenear thebase. It soundeddifferent from the shakenCDs.Helengoton the floorandexaminedthebase.Asmalldrawerslidoutofthebottomofthetower.Insidewasacassette tape, a ninety-minute Memorex with a label in Christina’s bold, blackhandwriting:“WeddingSong.”

ThetapeNikiwantedforsentimentalreasons.Helenwonderedwhat kindofmusicNikiwanted forherwedding.Would shepick

somethingascloyingasherperfume,liketheCarpenters’“We’veOnlyJustBegun”?Ordidawomanwho’dbeennakedinPlayboywanttowalkdowntheaisletoMendelssohn’s“WeddingMarch”?

Helencouldn’tresist.Shepoppedthetapeintothestore’ssoundsystemandgotablastof static. After adjusting the dials, Helen waited for the music. Instead, she heard adoorbell,thenaclickingnoise,likehighheelsonahardsurface,possiblymarbleortile.

Helen moved out into the store by the speakers, so she could hear the tape better.Therewasthesoundofadooropening,thenChristina’sunmistakablevoice.Itwaseeriehearingthedeadwomanspeak.Christinasaid,“Niki,howareyou?”

Niki?There was a rustle of expensive fabrics. Helen could imagine the air kisses and

practicallysmellNiki’sperfume.Nikiclickedherwayinsideandsaid,“Isthatyourkitty?He’ssocute.”TheymustbeinChristina’spenthouse.

Niki cooed over Thumbs. Christina got her a glass of Evian. They sat down onsomething soft and got down to business. At times, the recording sounded like it wasmadefromthebottomofawell,butHelencouldfigureoutwhatwasgoingon.

“Didyoubringit?”Christinaasked.“Fifteenhundredtoday, theotherhalf later,”Niki said.“Threethousandtotal. I still

saythat’sexpensive.”“I can get you somebody for five hundred,”Christina said. “The kindwhobrags in

barstohisfriends,thenrollsoverthefirsttimethecopsputonanypressure.Buythebestandonlycryonce.”

“That’swhyIputitinaNeimanMarcusbag,sinceI’mbuyingthebest.”Nikigiggled.“Youwanttocountit?”Helencouldhearpapermoneybeingsnappedandshuffled.

“When’sthewedding?”Christinaasked.

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“HemarriesthatbitchaweekfromSaturday.”“You’resure?”Christinasaid.“Icheckedwithhisbestman.Jasonhasalwayslikedme.Hecan’tunderstandwhatgot

intoJimmy.”“He’s thinkingwithhis littlehead,”Christinasaid.“Don’tworry.We’ll fix it. Itwill

looklikeacarjacking.”“You know what’s really funny?” Niki said. “Jimmy is paying for this. I sold some

jewelry he gaveme to get thismoney.Hewon’tmiss it. Three thou is petty cash forJimmy.He’llneverknowthathepaidtogetDesireeoutofhislife.”

Niki’sgirlishgigglemadethehairstanduponthebackofHelen’sneck.“You know you’ll be the first suspect when she goes. Do you have a solid alibi?”

Christinasaid.“I’llbevisitingmymotherinGreeceuntilaftertheirwedding.”“Theweddingthatwon’thappen,”Christinasaid.“Right.OnceDesireeisdead,I’llflyhometocomfortmypoorJimmy.”“Andthenyou’llbethebride.”“Butwewon’tbegoingtoBelizeforourwedding,”Nikisaid.Theylaughed.Itwasnotaprettysound.Thetapeendedwithasnakelikehiss.HelenwonderedwhyChristinamadethistape.

Shecouldnevergotothepolicewithit.She’dgotoprisonalongwithNiki.Maybethetapewasinsurance,soNikipaidtherestofthefee.

UnlessChristinawasn’tthreateningNikiwiththepolice.ThethoughthitHelenlikeapunch in the face. Suppose Niki’s new husband found out his wife had arranged themurderofDesiree—andhe’dbeenfoolenoughtofinanceit?

JimmytheShirtwoulddumpherwithoutapenny.IfNikiwas lucky.Hemightkillherorhaveherkilled.Theboyfriendsof Juliana’s regularshad interesting connections.Christinaknewthat.

NikihadmarriedaT-shirtbaronwho threwmoneyaround like confetti.Thanks tothistape,shewouldbealittlecashcow.Christinacouldmilkherfortherestofherlife.

ToobadChristinadidn’tlivelongafterward.ShewasasdeadasDesiree.“WeddingSong,”indeed.ThatwasanotherofChristina’slittlejokes.Nikisangherself

intoanastylittletrap.Helenwentback to the stockroomand turnedoff thehissing tape. She checked the

drawer in thebottomof theother tower.Empty.She staredat theCDtowers.Allhersearching,allherwork,andthisiswhatshehadtoshowforit:notone,buttworeasonsforNikitokillChristina.ShestillhadnomotiveforBrittney.Helencouldnotfindthatblasted“TinyBubbles”CD.

Itwas hopeless.Helenwas sick of looking. Shewas sick ofworking for a bosswhodidn’tappreciateher.ShewassickofChristinaandhergreedandthetroubleitcreated.Shewassickofalltheuglythingsshe’dseenandheardhere.

Thetwintowersseemedtotauntherwiththeirsecrets.Shegavetheclosestoneakick.Itwobbled and swayed.Helen tried to grab it before onehundred twentyCDs spilledonto the stockroom floor. She missed. Plastic cases flew everywhere, splitting open,cracking,slidingacrossthefloor.Asthetowertoppled,shesawoneCDwashiddenunder

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itsbase.DonHo’s“TinyBubbles.”Shepickeditoutofthesquareofdustunderthetower.Shedidn’twanttoopenit.She

knewthedeadChristinahadhiddenanotherhorrorbehindtheHawaiiancrooner.Insidewerefourphotos.The first lookedharmless. It showedBrittney andadark-hairedmanonabigwhite

boat.TheHatterascruiserdockedbehindBrittney’shouse?Theywerebothsosmallandperfect,theylookedlikedollsonaweddingcake.Brittneywastryingtokisstheman.Hisfacewasturnedtowardthecamera,asifhewasavoidingherkiss.Hishandswerepushingher away. He seemed drunk, or high, or both. So did Brittney. She was holding achampagnebottlebytheneck.

Thephotowastakenbeforeshe’dhadherbiopolymerinjectionswhenherfacecouldstillshowemotion.Brittneylookedangry.

Inthesecondphoto,Brittneywasswingingthechampagnebottlelikeaclub.Theshortmanwascoweringinthecornerwithhisarmsup,tryingtoprotecthisface.Brittneywaspop-eyedwithfury.Hermurderousrageradiatedfromthephotograph.Helenknewshewasseeingamanwhowasabouttodie.Shefeltasickfascination,butshestillreachedforthethirdphoto.

Inthatone,Brittneywasheavingthemanoverthesideoftheboat.Historsowashalfovertherailing,likeasackofflour.Hishairwasalmostdragginginthewater.Brittneywasabouttogivehimthefinalshove,intothewaterandthenextworld.

Inthefourthphoto,Brittneywasontheboatalone,staringintothewaterandwavinggood-byewithonehand.Sheheldthechampagnebottleintheotherlikeatrophy.Thosetinybubbleshadpackedquiteawallop.

Whocouldhavetakenthosephotos?Andwhy?Helen thought she knew. Brittney’s good friend Christina had been on this booze

cruise.ThedrunkenBrittneyhadbeenenragedbySteve’srejectionandbludgeonedhimwith a champagne bottle. Perhaps clever Christina had even egged her on. Christinacertainlyhadn’ttriedtostopherandsaveSteve.Instead,she’dsnappedthepicturesthatguaranteedheralifetimeincome.

ChristinahadbeenblackmailingBrittney.HelenhadheardChristinaonthelastdayofher life pressuring Brittney for more money in Juliana’s dressing room. “I don’t havemore,”Brittneyhadsaidinherstrangehissingwhisper.“I’mnotmadeoutofmoney.”

BrittneyhadkilledChristinaandsetherselffree.Helen checked the clock.TenminutesbeforeTara returned from lunch.Time for a

quickcalltoSarahwhileshepickedupthespilledCDs.Sarah’sphonerangandrang,butshedidn’tanswer.HelenleftamessagewhileshestuckthelastCDsintheirslots.Thensheput the “WeddingSong” tape backwhere she found it and strippedoff her searchgloves.Sheremovedthe“backinfifteenminutes”signjustintime.Tarawascomingupthesidewalk.

Sarahcalledanhourlater.“Ican’ttalknow,”Helensaid.“Canyoumeetmetonightafterworkfordinner?Mytreat.”

They met at one of the few Las Olas restaurants Helen could afford, CheeburgerCheeburger.Whiletheywolfeddownfries,onionrings,andbigjuicyburgers,Helentold

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Sarahabouther finds.Theblooddrippingoffher rareburgeraddedthe right touchtoHelen’staleofmurderandblackmail.

When she finished, Sarah said, “Niki is our killer. She has the best reason formurdering Christina. She was already being blackmailed for the jewel theft. After theDesireetape,she’dhavetworeasons.Christinawouldsqueezeherdoublyhardforcash.”

“Christinadidn’thavetimetoblackmailNikiaboutDesiree,”Helensaid.“Rememberherweirdfilingsystem?There’snoarticleaboutDesiree’scarjackinghiddeninthestoremanuals,becauseChristinaprobablydiedthesamedayasDesiree.”

Sarahtookabiteofburger,thensaid,“Didn’tmeanshehadn’tstartedpressuringNikiformoremoney.”

Helen finished the last bite of her burger and delicately licked the juice from herfingers.“That’sthepartIdon’tget.ChristinawasalreadyblackmailingNikiforthejewelbusiness.WhywouldNikigivehermoreammunitionbygoingtoherforahitman?”

“BecauseNikiwasdesperate,”Sarahsaid,takingthelastonionring.“Ithadbeenyearssinceshe’dbeeninPlayboy.Sheneverbecameamodeloramoviestar.Nothingwasgoingtohappentoher,exceptshe’dgetold.Jimmywasherlastchancetosnagarichman.IfNikihadtokilltokeephim,shewould.”

“Nice theory,” Helen said, finishing the final french fry. “Except Niki’s got anunbreakablealibiforChristina’sdeath.Shewasoutofthecountry.”

“Sowhat?”Sarahsaid.“Istillthinkshecouldhavehiredahitman.”“AndIstillsayit’sBrittney,”Helensaid.Shecountedoffthereasonsonslightlygreasy

fingers.“One,ChristinaphotographedBrittneyactuallykillingsomeone.That’sbetter thana

tapewhereNikiisjusttalkingaboutit.“Two,BrittneyhasnoalibiforChristina’sdeath.“Three,BrittneytriedtokillmewhenIaccusedherofmurderingChristina.”“Youdon’tknowthat,”Sarahsaid.“The fire happened right after I saw her. I don’t believe in coincidence. Besides,

Brittneyhasthemobboyfriend.”“Ex-boyfriend,”Sarahremindedher.“Andfour,BrittneyhasChristina’scat,”Helensaid.“Proveit,”Sarahsaid.“Onecatlookslikeanother.”“Iwill,”Helensaid.“AndI’llprovemytheory,”Sarahsaid.“How?”Helensaid.“AreyougoingtoplaythattapeforJimmytheShirt?”“Notthiswoman.Iknowaboutkillingthemessenger.Let’sleavethattaperightwhere

it is, sothecopscanfind it if theyneed it. I’mgoingtogetonmycomputerandstartsearchingnewspaperdatabases.ThekeytothiscaseisDesiree’scarjacking.It’snoteasyto pull off a carjacking in a gated community. Someone had inside knowledge. Mostgated communities have aTV camera at the gate. Either this one didn’t or somethingmalfunctioned.”

“Howdoyouknow?”“Thepolicewouldhavereleasedadescriptionofthesuspectedvehicle,a licenseplate

number,oraphotoofthedriver.Butthere’snothing.Ibetthehitman—orwoman—has

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usedthatmethodbefore.IwanttoresearchcarjackingsinSouthFloridaandseeifIcanfindapattern.WhenIdo,itwillleadbacktoChristina.”

“Too far-fetched,”Helen said. “The killer is Brittney. I know it. I’m showing thosepictures of her swinging that champagne bottle to Detective Karen Grace. She’ll haveBrittneyinjailbeforeyoustartupyourcomputer.”

“Ibetyou’rewrong,”Sarahinsisted.“IbetyouanythingthekillerisNiki.”“Whatwillyoubet?”“Youlikechocolate?”“Youbet,”Helensaid.“ThenIbetyouahotfudgesundaeatJaxson’s.”“What’sthat?”“Youclaimyoulikechocolateandyou’veneverbeentoJaxson’s?”“Neverevenheardoftheplace,”Helensaid.“Whenyouwrapyourlipsaroundtheirhotfudge,you’llthinkyou’vediedandgoneto

heaven.”“Actually,”Helensaid,“I’mtryingtoavoidthatexperience—atleastforanotherfifty

years.”

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Chapter33

“Whatdo youmean,wedon’t have anything?”Helen said.Anger anddisappointmentmade her voice rise. She sounded whiny, and that made Helen madder. She’d calledDetectiveKarenGracebecausesheseemedsmarterthanherpartnerDwightHansel.NowHelendidn’twanttohearDetectiveGrace’ssmarttalk.

“ShowmetheconnectiontoChristina,”Gracedemanded.This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. On the phone, Grace had seemed

interested. She told Helen not to touch the photos and drove straight over Tuesdaymorning.HelenhadbuzzedherthroughJuliana’sgreendoor.Inherbadlytailoredgraypants suit, Grace looked out of place, like a computer dropped into a pink boudoir.Juliana’swomenwereornamental.Grace,withherlushfigureandstrawberryblondhair,couldhavebeen,butshelivedbyherbrains.

HelenhadbeensureonceGracesawthosephotosBrittneywouldbearrested,anditwouldbeallover.EspeciallywhenHelentoldheraboutthevisittoBrittney’sicepalace,thesix-toedcat,andthefire.Instead,Gracesaid,“WhatdothesephotoshavetodowithChristina’smurder?”

Helenpointedtothephotosonthestockroomcounter.“I see four good reasons forBrittney to killChristina,” she said. “Shephotographed

Brittney killing the guy. Look at that one:Brittney is slamming the guy’s headwith achampagne bottle. And this one: She’s throwing him overboard.He’s dead, or will beshortly.Thathastobeherfiancé,Steve,theonefoundfloatinginthecanal.

“Lookatthisfirstphotoagain,”Helenpleaded.“Seehowhe’stryingtopushheraway?Hedumpedherandshekilledhim.It’sobvious.”

“I’ll tellyouwhat’sobvious,”DetectiveKarenGrace said.“There’snoconnection toChristina.”

“Christina took those pictures,” Helen said. “That’s how she was blackmailingBrittney.”

“Proveit.Idon’tseeChristina’snameonthebackofthesephotos.Wedidn’tfindanytelltalephotosornegativesinherpenthouse.”

“Butyoufoundacamera.”“Sowhat?”Gracesaid.“Everyonehasacamera.”“Christina used photos to blackmail people. I know that for a fact. I’ve seen those

photos.”“DoyouknowforafactthatBrittneywasbeingblackmailed?Didshetellyou?”Grace

asked.

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“No,but...”“Here’swhatwehave:photosofBrittneyhittingaguywithachampagnebottle.She

looksdrunkasaskunk.Itdoesn’tlookpremeditated.Anygoodlawyer—andBrittneycanafford the best—could argue diminished capacity. Brittney might get manslaughter. Ifthere were enough men on the jury, she could get a medal. Florida juries have donestrangerthings.ButIseenothingtolinkChristinawiththesephotosofBrittney.”

“Ifoundthephotoshereinthestore,”Helensaid.“Where Christina worked. But you work here, and so does Tara. I’ll bet your next

paychecktheonlyfingerprintsonthosephotosareyours.”“Mine!”“That’sright.Youpickedthemup.Brittneycouldsayyouwereblackmailingher,and

you made up that wild story about her cat. You have no credibility. The homicideinvestigatorswill findout thatyournameisn’t reallyHelenHawthorneandthatyou’reontherun.”

Helenfroze.Shefelttheblooddrainingfromherface.Herjawmovedupanddownafewtimesbeforethewordscameout.“Howdidyouknow?”

“I’madetective,”Gracesaid.“Mylife’sover,”Helensaid.“Myex-husbandwillfindme.”“Yourex isacreep.I’mnotgoingtosayanythingunless it turnsoutyoudid it.My

partnerknowsyourstorycheckedout.That’sallheknows,andallhecaresabout.”JustwhenHelen felt herself breathing again,Grace said, “You should have toldme

aboutthephonyaggravatedbatteryatthestorehere.Idon’tappreciateyourhidingthat.”“WhataboutTara?”Helensaid.“Whatabouther?”“Well,shewastheonewhosawtheguyswiththeguns.She,um. . .hadreasonsto

hateChristina....Uh,Imean,shehadapastinLasVegaswheresheworkedasa...”Helen couldn’t bringherself to say thatTara hadbeen a prostitute, andChristina hadblackmailedher.ShelikedTara.

“I know she used to be a pro,” Detective Grace said. “She wouldn’t be the firstLauderdaleladytohaveaninterestingpast.”

“She’sgotanalibi?”Helensaid.Grace rolledher eyes. “Youwatch toomany cop shows.Tara is blessedwith a nosy

neighborwhowatchedherthewholetime.Saidnocarsleftthedriveway.EvenknewsheandherboyfriendhadChinesedeliveredSaturdayandPapaJohn’spizzaonSunday.Theneighborsaidherboyfriendnevercameoutofthehouseuntilafterthreep.m.Mondaytopickupthemorningpaper,andhewasstillwearinghisbathrobe.Taradidn’tappearuntilnineMondaynight,andshesatinthehottubfortwenty-sevenminutes.”

“Thatneighbormustbeonelonelyoldlady.”“Mr. Rodriguez would resent that description,” Detective Grace said. “He’s a lively

seventy-eight-year-oldwithhigh-poweredbinoculars.HewaitsforTaratogosunbathinginherbikini.Shealsolikestositnudeinthehottubafterdark.TheoldboywatchesherliketheSecretServicewatchesthepresident.Heevenkeepsadiary.”

“Iguessyoucanfindthosethingsoutwhenyou’rethepolice,”Helensaid.“Ihopeyouarenotwastingyourtimeplayingdetective.Youdon’thavemyresources

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ormytraining.”“No,butIfindstuffanyway.Lookatthose.”HelenpointedtoChristina’sotherCDs

withtheblackmailmaterial.ShekeptherpromisetoSarahanddidnotbringouttheNikicassette.“Andyouwerewrong.Myfingerprintsaren’tonBrittney’spicturesoranyoftheothers.I’veopenedthemupwearinggloves.”

Helenshowedherthepairoftwelve-buttonsearchgloves,whichweregettingslightlygrayatthefingertips.

“Ididn’trealizeitwasaformalsearch,”DetectiveGracesaid,asshepulledonherowngloves.Theywerelatex,nottwelve-buttonkid.Onebyone,sheopenedthecases.

“Quiteacollectionofindividualshere,”Gracesaid,aftershefinished.Helenthought“individual”wascop-talkfor“scumbag.”

“I’ll alertour special victimsunit about the sexual abuseof aminor.Butallof theseindividualshavealibisforthetimeofthemurder.”

“Youcheckedthem?”Helensaid.Shewassurprised.“Whatdoyou think Iwasdoing?Sittingonmyhands? I checkedout all the shop’s

regulars.”“SotheonlytwowithoutalibisareBrittneyandJoe,”Helensaid.Atleast,that’swhat

sheandSarahhadmanagedtofindout.“I’mnotatlibertytosay.”“Maybenot,butI’mright.AndI’llbetyoudon’tbelieve incoincidence. Igetdeath

threats.ThenIgotoBrittney’shouseandseethedeadwoman’smissingcat.IconfrontBrittney,andthatsamenightsomebodytriestokillme.”

“Idon’tbelieveincoincidence,”DetectiveGracesaid.“ButIneedaconnection.Itwilltaketimetoestablishone.”

“Iknowashortcut,”Helensaid.“WhatifIcouldproveBrittneyhasChristina’scat?”“How?It’sanalleycat.”“DNA,”Helen said. “Animals have it, too.Were any cat hairs foundonChristina’s

body?”“Fourorfive,”DetectiveGracesaid.“AndyoufoundcathairinChristina’scondo?”“Awholebrushful,”shesaid.“Thenallweneedisthecat,andwecangetaDNAtest.”“Twoproblems,”DetectiveGracesaid.“First,SunnyseaBeachisnotgoingtopayfora

DNAtestforacat.DNAtestscostthousands,andwedon’thavethatkindofmoney.“Second,eveniftheydid,we’dneedacourtordertogetBrittney’scat.There’snoway

ajudgewouldgiveusone.Itwouldbeyourword—thewordofawomanontherun—againstasolidcitizen.”

“Look,”Helensaid,desperately,“thelastdetectivewhousedthistechniquewasnamedOfficeroftheYear.Hegotatonofpublicity.YoucouldgetoutofSunnyseaBeachandgetajobwithabetterforce.GetadecentpartnerinsteadofDwight.”

“AndwheredoIgetthemoneyforthetest?”DetectiveGracesaid.Shewasconsideringit,Helenthought.Alittlemorepersuasion,andshe’dsayyes.

“Themerchantsassociationhasa twenty-five-thousand-dollarrewardforanyonewhogivesinformationleadingtothearrestandconvictionofChristina’skiller.Putmyname

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inforthereward,andI’llpayfortheDNAtestifyourdepartmentwon’t.”“Deal,”DetectiveGracesaid.“Butwestillneedthecat’shair.”“Icangetit,”Helensaid.“Brittney’shousehasapetdoor.Thecatgoesoutatnight.

I’llgrabitandgetafewhairs.”Helendidn’twanttothinkaboutpullinghairfromalivecat.Alivecatwithmorethanhisshareofrazor-sharpclaws.

“I don’t want to know anymore,”Grace said. “Just don’t callme from the BridgeHarbourpolicestation.”

“First,IhavetocalltheanimalDNAexpert,”Helensaid.HelenenjoyedrunningupJuliana’sphonebilltotrackdowntheDNAexpert.Dr.Joy

HalversonwasatQuestGenlaboratoriesinDavis,California,fourtimezonesandtwenty-fivehundredmilesfromFlorida.

“Doyouhavecat-hairsampleswithroots?”Dr.Halversonasked.“DetectiveGracesaysagroomingbrushfilledwithhairwasfoundinthedeadwoman’s

penthouse.”“That’s a good source. There should be root material,” Dr. Halverson said. “What

aboutthehairsfoundonthewoman’sbody?”“Idon’tknow,”Helensaid.“Isitimportant?”“Yes.TherearetwokindsofDNAtestinginforensics.STR,shorttandemrepeats, is

themostaccuratetest,butitneedsnuclearDNA.Yougetthatfrombloodsamples,saliva,orhairwithroots.Ashedhairdoesnothavealotofrootmaterial.Youmightgetlucky,though.Oneofthehairsfoundonthebodymayhavearoot.Youneedtocheck.”

“Whatifitdoesn’t?”Helensaid.“Then the probabilities change drastically. If you get a match when you use STR

testing, there is only one chance in a billion the test iswrong.That’s fairly convincingevidence. If you use the non-root material, the chances drop to maybe one in threehundred.”

Thewholecasewasridingonahair.Acathair.“IfIgoaheadwiththetest,whatwillitcost?”Helensaid.“It’sforyou,notthepolice,right?”“The local police department can’t afford aDNA test for a house cat,”Helen said.

NeithercanI,shethought.“Ifaprivatepersondidit,thetestwouldrunaboutathousanddollars,”Dr.Halverson

said. “If I did the test, it would take two to three weeks. The price goes up to twothousandormoreifIhavetotestifyincourt.”

TheDNAtestwouldtakeahugebiteoutofHelen’ssuitcasestash.It’saninvestment,Helendecided.IfIgetthereward,I’llstillhavetwenty-threethousanddollars.ButIcan’tgetanythingwithoutit.

“HowmuchhairwillIhavetopulloffthecatforcomparison?”Helensaid.Shewasnotlookingforwardtothispart.

“None,”thedoctorsaid.“Ineedacheeksample.Youcanuseafinebrush,likeababytoothbrush,oracottonswab.Justbrushitontheinsideofthecat’scheek,andthatwillgettheDNAsample.”

Great.Helenhadtostealcatslobberinsteadofcathair.HowwasshegoingtostickaQ-tipinastrangecat’smouth?

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“Doyouhaveacourtorderforthecat?”Dr.Halversonsaid.“No,”Helensaid.“IcangetwhatIneedbyothermeans.”“Likeclimbingthefence?”thedoctorsaidshrewdly.“I’mhopingthecatwillcomeouttothesidewalk,”Helensaid.Sheknewhowhopeless

thatsounded.Next,HelencheckedwithDetectiveGrace.“WehavetobetheonlypeopleinAmerica

whowantcathair,”Gracesaid.“Notjustanycathair,”Helensaid.“Ithastohaveroots.”“I’llgetbackwithyou,”shesaid.DetectiveGracecalledHelenbacktwohours later.“We’reinluck.There’sarooton

onehair.”“ThenI’mabouttobecomeacatburglar,”Helensaid.

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Chapter34

“WebetterscoutBrittney’splace.Iwanttoseewhatitlookslikeatnight,”Margerysaid.“Thesameasintheday,onlydarker,”Helensaid.“Not true.Everyplace looksdifferentatnight.Actsdifferent, too.Trustmeonthis.

I’manoldnightowl.”Helen wondered what Margery saw at the Coronado after dark. Her landlady was

providing the wheels for the cat caper. “Brittney goes to a different South Beach clubalmost every night,” Helen said. “Wednesday nights she goes to the Delano. Usuallyleavessometimeafternine.”

“Fine,”saidMargery.“Wegotadatetonightatten.It’sTuesday,sowe’llnailthecattomorrow.”

Atteno’clock,theypulledoutoftheCoronadoandheadedfortheSeventeenthStreetBridge.MargerydroveanoldwhiteCadillachalfablocklong.Helenwonderedifitwasastatelawthatwhenyoureachedageseventy,youhadtodriveabigwhitecar.

Ontheother sideof thebridge,Margerymadea leftontoBridgeHarbourParkway,andtheyweresuddenlyinthehushed,windingstreetsofthewealthy.Herlandladywasright.BridgeHarbourwasdifferentafterdark.

The huge houses looked more like hotels, with their two-story entryways. Huge,enormous, and giant described everything about these houses, except their lots, whichwerebarelybigenoughforamodestranchhouse.

“Howcomemajormansionsarebuiltonsuchlittlelots?”Helensaid.“YoucangetlandinOmaha,”Margerysaid.“Theywantwater.Thefewerdrawbridges

youryachtgoesthroughbeforeyougettotheocean,thebetter.BridgeHarborisonlyonedrawbridgeaway.

“Now,canweskipthehousetourandgettowork?Didyouseeallthese‘NoParking’signs?Whatarewegoingtodowiththiscar?Ican’tparkit.Andlookatthesesecuritypatrols.”

BridgeHarbourhouseswere built along a systemof canals.The security servicehadwhitepatrolcarsstationedateverylittlecanalbridge.

“I counted six rent-a-cops on wheels,”Margery said. “This is not going to be easy.Showmethehouse.Andtellmeitdoesn’thaveaseven-footwall,likeeveryotherplacewe’vepassed.”

“Oh,no,”Helensaid.“Ithasa tallhedge,butaniceopendriveway.Thecabpulledrightin.”

Butnocar couldget inatnight.Thedrivewaywasclosedbyanelectricgate. “That

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wasn’thereduringtheday,”Helensaid.“At least it’s fancy wrought iron,” Margery said. “The cat can slide through the

curlicues.Idon’tlikethosesecuritylights.PlaceislituplikeTimesSquare.”Helenthoughtshesawsomethingwhiteflittingthroughthebushes.Wasthecatonhis

nightlyprowl?Itwashardtotellintheglaringlights.“Let’sgetoutofherebefore theynoticemy licenseplate,”Margery said.“We’vegot

planningtodo.”They stoppedat aPolloTropical andpickedupdinner togo.Even the fast food in

Floridawas exotic.Where else inAmerica could you get fried plantains at a franchise?Theyatetheirchickentropi-chops(threedollarsandseventeencents,withriceandbeans)inMargery’skitchen.

“Withallthatsecurity,we’regoingtoneedanexcuseforwanderingaround,”shesaid.“Icouldbeajogger,”Helensaid.“Securitywon’tfallforthat,”Margerysaid,stabbingatherchicken.“Didyouseeany

joggersonthosestreetsatteno’clock?”“No,”Helensaid.“Wait.WhatifIwaslookingformylostcat?”“I like that,” Margery said. “It’s almost true. It would explain why I was driving

around,andwhyyouweretryingtocatchacat.“Nowwehavetofigureouthowtogetthecat.Areyousureitgoesoutatnight?”“There’sacatflapinthedoor.IthoughtIsawsomethingwhiteinthebushes.ButI

don’tknowhowtogetittocometome.I’veneverhadacat.”“Weneedcatnipandpeacockfeathers,”Margerydeclared.“MyfriendRitaScottgrows

herowncatnipandmakesthesetoysstuffedwithcatnip.Hercatsgonutsoverthem.I’llgetsome,andapeacockfeather,andmeetyouatmycaratteno’clocktomorrownight.”

HelenspentalldayWednesdaywonderingifshe’dgetcaughtandspendthenightattheBroward County Jail. She was glad it was a dark night with no moon. The two catburglars met at Margery’s car. Margery was wearing a purple velour jogging suit andmauve tennis shoes. Helen had on jeans and a black sweatshirt. She always felt soconservativecomparedtoherlandlady.

OntheCadillac’sbackseatwasapeacockfeatherandaplasticziplockbag.InsidethebagwerefabriccattoysnobiggerthanHelen’shand.Shepickedoneupandsniffedit.

“Itsmellslikegrass,”Helensaid.“That’sthemostpotentcatnipinthefelineworld,”Margerysaid.“Ritasaysyoucall

thecatbyname,noneofthat‘kitty,kitty’stuff.Thenstickthepeacockfeatherthroughthegateandwiggleitaround.Catsloveplayingwithpeacockfeathers.Whenthecatgetsclosetothefence,bringoutthecatniptoy.Itwillcomerunning.NocatcanresistRita’scatnip.”

“What’sinthatpaperbagonthebackseat?”Helenasked.“Ourlastresort,”Margerysaid.“Doyouhaveeverything?”Helen patted her fanny pack. “Yep. Q-tips in a plastic bag. Small Ziplocs for the

sample.”“Let’sgo,”Margerysaid.BridgeHarbourlookeddifferentagaintonight.Nowitwasnotonlyrichbutpowerful.

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The tall gray royal palms looked like dinosaur legs, ready to crush them.The securityguardswaited at the canalbridges like spiders,poised to trap them.Helen felt the fearsnakescrawlinginherstomach.ShecouldloseherjobforstalkingaJuliana’scustomer.IfHelenwasarrestedandhernamegotinthepapers,shemightaswellmove.She’dnevergethiredbyanyone,anywhere.

Margery drove slowly byBrittney’s house. “The red Porsche is gone, and the houselightsareoffexceptforoneintheback.Ithinkshe’sgone,”Helensaid.

“Thenlet’sgotowork,”Margerysaid.“I’lldropyouoffanddriveslowlyaroundthesubdivision.I’llbebackshortly.”

Helentookadeepbreath,thenpickedupthepeacockfeatherandstuffedthreecatniptoysinherpocket.Shewalkedovertothewrought-irongateandcroucheddownintheflowerbed.Itwas filledwithsharpwhiterocksandspikygreenplantswithsawtoothedleaves.A lizard ranoutof the flowerbed,andHelen jumped.A spikyplant left a longscratchonherhand.HelenwonderedifthecopscouldgetherDNAfromthebloodonthewhiterocks.

“Here,Thumbs,”shecalled,inahoarsewhisper.Nothing.“Thumbies,”shecalled.“Here,Thumbs.Here,boy.”Wasthatarustlinginthebushes?Helenstuckthepeacockfeatherthroughthegateandwaggleditaround.Awhiteblur

shotoutfromthebushesandnailedthepeacockfeather,leavingittwistedandbroken.“Thumbs!”Helensaid.“Mrrr,”thecatsaid,switchinghisgraytail.Inthesecuritylights,helookedmorelikea

stuffedtoythanever,exceptforthoseenormoussix-toedfeet.Theybelongedonalion,notacat.

“LookwhatI’vegotforyou.”Helenheldupthecatniptoy,justoutsidethegate.Thumbswhippedapawthroughthegateandsnaggedthe toy fromherhandbefore

sheknewwhathappened.Nowshehadanother long,bloody scratch.Thumbshad thetoyinsidethegate,whereshecouldn’treachhim.

“Thumbs,”shepleaded.“Thumbs,comehere.”Thecatignoredher,asonlyacatcan.Thumbswasfascinatedwiththetoy.Hesniffed

atitandbatteditacrossthedriveway.Thenthedignifiedcatbeganleapinglikeakitten.Heranaroundthedrivewaylikeacrazedhockeyplayer,swattingthecatniptoywithhispaw,fallingoverit,doingbackflips.She’dneverseenacatbehavelikethat.Catnipwasnotamellowhigh.

Thumbsjumped,ran,androlledwiththecatniptoy,whileHelenbeggedhimtocomeback.Finally,hegavethetoyonemassiveswipeandknockeditintotheornamentalpool.Hesatbythepoolandstaredsadlyathisdrownedplaything.

“Thumbs,”Helen said, holding up another catnip toy. “I’ve got another one.Here,boy.”

Finally,shehadhisattention.Thumbsracedovertothegateandtriedtoswipethetoyfromherhand.

“Oh,noyoudon’t,”Helensaid.“Thistimeyouarecomingouthere.”She held the cat toy two feet from the gate. Thumbs slid through a wrought-iron

curlicue.Shewasn’tsurehowabigcatcouldgetthroughsuchasmallopening.Whenhe

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wasontheotherside,Helengrabbedhim.“Gotcha!”shesaid.Shewasnearlyblindedbythespotlightinhereyes.“Wouldyoucomeawayfromthere,please,”avoicesaid.Oh,oh.She’dbeencaught.WherewasMargery?HelenhungontoThumbs.Shewas

notlettinggoofthiscat,notafterallthetroubleshe’dhadcatchinghim.“MayIseesomeidentification,ma’am?”thevoicesaid.Itwasnotaquestion.Itwasa

command.“Doyouliveinthearea?”“No,”Helensaid.“I’m...”More lights in her eyes, this time from another car. A door slammed and she saw

Margerygetout.“Oh,good,”Margerysaid.“YoufoundThumbs.That’sourlostcat,”sheexplainedto

thesecurityguard.Margeryreachedintothebaginthebackseatandpulledoutapaper.“We’veputuptheseflyersalloverLauderdale.Oneofourneighborscalledandsaidshe’dspottedThumbsallthewayoverhere.”

Thesecurityguardreadthehomemadeflyerlikeitwasacourtdocument.Helencouldseetheheadline:“LOST!!!!!GRAYANDWHITECATWITHBIGFEET!ANSWERSTOTHENAMETHUMBS.REWARD!”

Thumbswasstartingtosquirm.Ifheescaped,she’dnevercatchhim.Ifhescratchedher,she’dloseanotherpintofblood.

“Pardonme, sir,”Helen said, “butThumbs has beenmissing for a full day, and heneedshismedicine.Hehasabadmouthinfection.”

Theguardbackedaway fromthediseasedanimal.Margerypulledabagofcat treatsfromherpurseandsaid,“Here,I’llgivehimthisandyougivehimhismedicatedswab.”

WhenThumbsopenedhismouth,HelenrantheQ-tipinsidehischeek,thenquicklypulleditout.Margerypoppedatreatinthecat’smouthbeforehecouldprotest.HelenstucktheswabinaZiplocbag.Theguardwatchedthem.

“Wereallyneedtogethimhomenow,”Margerysaid.ThesecurityguardwalkedthemtoMargery’scar.“Gladyoufoundyourcat,ladies,”he

said.“Notasgladasweare,”Helensaid.Margeryelbowedhertoshutup.Margerydrove to theendof the streetandoutofBridgeHarbour.Thenshe turned

aroundandwentbacktoBrittney’shouse.Helen hopped out and dumped Thumbs over the fence. He looked up at her. He

didn’twanttogobacktotheicepalace,andhewaswearingafurcoat.“You’reagoodguy,”Helensaid.“Butyou’vegottostayhere ifyou’regoingtohelp

us.”AssheranforMargery’scar,shesawThumbspaddingtowardthehouse.Itcouldbe

herimagination,butheseemeddejected.“Thumbsissuchaniceanimal.Ihatetoleavehim,”Helensaid.Margeryswattedatthewhitecathairswirlingthroughhercarlikeasnowstorm.“Areyoukidding?”shesaid.“Webroughtmostofhimwithus.”

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“AreyougoingtositupallnightwatchingaQ-tipfullofcatslobber?”Margeryasked.“It’sthreea.m.Yourlightsarestillon.Youshouldbeinbed.”

“Idon’twantanythingtohappentoit,”Helensaid.“It’smyfreedomfromDetectiveDwightHansel.It’salsotwenty-fivethousanddollars.”

“I’llbabysittheQ-tipwhileyousleep.I’llevenfillouttheFedExform.”Helen’s landladywaswearingherpurplechenillerobeandredcurlers.Margery’stoes

wereavibrantred.Somehow,thismadeherlooktrustworthy.Helenwastired.She’dspentthenightstaringattheQ-tip,asifitwouldself-destruct.“IguessIcandothat,”Helensaid.“I don’t knowwhy you didn’t just drop it in the FedEx box this evening. Then it

wouldbesafe.”Butwouldit?HelenworriedthattheheatwouldruintheDNAsample,eventhough

sheknewthatwasridiculous.ThepolicegotDNAoffsodastrawsthathadbeensittinginalleys.ShewatchedLaw&OrderandCSI.Sheknewherforensics.

Still,Helenworried.WhatifacarranintotheFedExbox?Oritgothitbylightning?Orvandalsstartedafire?Sheknewallthesepossibilitieswereincrediblyremote.ShealsoknewshewouldhangontothecatDNAuntilfive-forty-fiveThursdaynight.

Thenshewouldwalkovertotheparkinglotbehindthebank,droptheenvelopeintheFedExbox,andwaituntilthedriverpickeditupatsixp.m.Afterthat,itwouldbeoutofherhandsuntilthetestresultswerereadyintwoorthreeweeks.

At nine the next morning, she stopped by Margery’s for the FedEx package. ShenoticedthatMargeryhadusedherowncreditcardnumberforthebilling.

“I’llreimburseyou,”Helensaid.“Forgetit,”Margerysaid.“WednesdaynightwasthemostfunI’vehadinyears,which

shouldtellyousomethingaboutmylife.”Helen spent a miserable Thursday looking at the clock every fifteen minutes. The

hands moved so slowly, she was sure it was broken, so she kept calling Time &Temperature.

Atnoon,shecalledSarah.“ThecatDNAgoesofftothelabtoday,”shesaid.“ThenI’llhavemyproofthatBrittneydidit.”

“You’retoolate,”Sarahsaid.“I’vealreadyfoundthepatternthatwillnailNiki.Doyouknow therehavebeen three carjackings in the last two yearswhere the grieving spouseremarriedquickly?We’retalkinglessthansixmonths.”

“Sotheywerealittlehasty.Sowhat?”

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“Thosehitsweremadetolooklikecarjackings,”Sarahsaid.“Someonewasyearningtobefree.Andinonecase,witnessessawagrayToyotaCamryleavethescene.”

“Shouldn’tbetoomanyofthoseinSouthFlorida,”Helensaid.“Goaheadandlaugh,”Sarahsaid.“You’lleatyourwords.AndI’lleataJaxson’shot

fudgesundae.”Helen hung up laughing, until she looked at the clock. It was twelve-oh-five. Time

stoodstillthatafternoon,whileHelenpacedandfussedandcheckedtheclock.Whenitwasfive-forty,sheandTaracouldstanditnolonger.Tarapromisedtolockupthestore.HelengrabbedthepackageandranallthewaytotheFedExbox.Itwasexactlyfive-forty-fivewhenshereachedit.

She was reading the FedEx airbill once more, making sure all the little boxes werecheckedandthespaceswerefilledin,whenacarcamesquealingintothelot.

ItwasaredFerrariconvertible,thesamecolorasMargery’stoenailpolish.ItpulledupinfrontoftheFedExboxatanangle,almostpinningHelentothebox.Shestaredatthecar’sflatpredator’snose.Theheadlightslookedlikeevileyes.

Anotherpredatorwasdriving.Joe,Christina’sex-boyfriend,gotout.HewasdressedinblackHugoBossfromheadtotoe.Hehadsomethingblackinhishand,butitwasnotacellphone.Itwasagun.AGlocknine.

Uh-oh,Helenthought.She lookedaround.The lotwasdeserted.Thebankbuildinghadnowindowsonthisside.Shewasaloneinthemiddleofthecity.

“Whydon’tyougivemethatpackage?”hesaid.Joethoughtshehadhisblackmailphotos.AllHelenhadtodowasexplain,andhe’d

calmdown.“Thishasnothingtodowithyou,”Helensaid.“This isDNAfromBrittney’scat.It

willgetherconvicted.Itwillexonerateyou.YouhateBrittney.”“Shealwayssaidyouweredumb,”Joesaid.“Nowgivemethatpackage.”Atlonglast,Helenunderstood.Itwasthecheater’soldesttrick:pretendtohatetheone

youlove.Herex,Rob,sworehehatedtheirnext-doorneighbor,Sandy.Helenbelievedhim until she found them naked together. Brittney had pretended to hate Joe, andgullibleHelenhadbelievedher,too.

“Youwere cheating onChristinawith her best friend,”Helen said, thenwished shehadn’t.

“Iwasn’tcheatingonher,”Joesaid.Hesoundedstung.“ItoldherIwantedtodropherafterKeyWest.”

“Whenyoubroughtherthatcat.”“Don’t mention that stupid animal. I caught hell on both sides for that. Christina

rammedmyassforgivingittoher.”“Reamed,”Helensaid.“Whatever,”Joesaid.“BrittneydidthesamethingbecauseIdidn’tgiveittoher.She’s

crazyaboutthatcat.“Look,Iwasveryup-front.ItoldChristinaIdidn’twanttoseeheranymore.That’s

whenshestartedblackmailingme.Shedidn’twantmoney,likeshedidwithBrittney.Shewantedme tomarryher. I refused, and she started cookingup these crazyplots to geteven.GoodthingBrittneywasthere.Shekeptmeinundatedonthosefruitcakeplans.”

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“Youmeanupdated.”“If youknowwhat Imean,why say anything?” Joe said,waggling theGlock ather.

“I’mgettingtiredofthis.I’mtryingtotellyousomething.BrittneythoughtitwasOKtokillChristinabecause she said shekept theblackmailphotosatherpenthouse.But sheliedtous.Wedidn’tfindoutuntiltoolate.”

“Imaginethat.Christinaliedtoyou,”Helensaid.“Andyouweredumbenoughtokillherbeforeyouhadthephotos.”

“Ididn’tkillher.AllIdidwasputherinthebarrelanddumpitinthebay.Brittneydid the killing. I wanted to shoot her. Keep it simple. Brittney thought the doormanwouldremembermeifIshowedupinmyredFerrari,andshewasprobablyright.It’sa550Barchetta,”hesaid,asifHelenshouldbeimpressed.

“Brittneysaidshe’dhandleit.Sheknewawaytosneakintothebuildingthatnoonewouldnotice.Sheborrowedthisoldgraybeateranddressedlikeamaid.Shecarriedthebodyoutinawheeledtrashcan.Thedumbspicswhoworkedtherehelpedherputitinthecar.Canyoubelievethat?That’swhathappenswhenyoudon’tspeakEnglish.”

Helendidn’t think Joe spoke it, either.Thiswasprobablynot the time to say soormention that she found his language offensive. But she had to say something, or he’dshootherandtakethepackagewiththecatDNA.

“HowdidyouknowIfoundthephotos?”Helensaid.“BrittneytalkedwithSharmayne.ShesaidyoufoundChristina’sphotos inthestore.

Wetriedtoscareyouintogivingthemtous.”“Youmadethatthreateningcall,”Helensaid.“That’sright.Butitdidn’twork.Brittneysetthefire,butyougotoutofthat,too.So

you’regoingtogivemethatpackage,andthenyou’regoingtotellmewherethosephotosare.”

Helenknewwhatwouldhappenafterthat.Shedidn’thavethephotos.Thepolicedid.ButBrittneyandJoewouldnotbelieveher.TheywouldtortureHelenuntilshebeggedthemtokillher.ThenHelenwouldgoforabarrelrideinBiscayneBay.

HelenturnedanddroppedtheFedExpackageintheslot.Shehadnothingtolose.“Hey!”Joesaid.“Getthatoutofthere.”“Ican’t,”Helensaid.“NoonecangetintothatFedExbox.”Joepointed thegunrightather face.Shewas lookingdowntheblackbarrel.“Then

we’regoingtowaitrighthereuntilthedrivershowsup.Youaregoingtoaskforitback.Andifyoutryanythingfunny,I’llshootyouandthedriver.”

Thenextminutestickedbyslowly.Carspassedonthestreet,butnoonestopped.Noonedroppedoffa last-minutepackage. Joekept theGlockhidden inhis jacketpocket.HelenwonderedifJoewouldreallyshootoutthepocketofaHugoBosssuit.Shelookedathisfaceanddecidedhewould.

Atsix,theFedExtruckpulledin.Thedriverwasamuscularblondmaninshorts.Hehadgreatlegs.Helenwouldhatetoseehimshot.

“Ask,”Joehissed.“AndrememberwhatIsaid.”“Hi,”Helensaidbrightly.“Idroppedmypackageinthere,andIneedtogetitback.I

don’twanttosenditafterall.”“I’llgetitforyou,ma’am,butIneedtoseeyourairbillandsomeidentification.”

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Helen reached into her purse. Joe was watching her. She saw the gun move in hispocket,areminderthathe’dshootthedriver.Helenfeltaroundinherpurse.Shecouldnotfindherpepperspray.

“You’retakingalongtime,honey,”Joesaid.“Thisnicemanwantstogetgoing.”Helengrabbedherwallet,theairbillandherhousekeys.“Here,”shesaidtothedriver.ThenshethrewherselfontheFerrari.Shewasspreadeagledonthelong,slantinghood,

holdingherdoorkeypointedlikeadaggerovertheperfectredpaintjob.“MyFerrari,”Joescreamed.“Don’thurtmycar,youcrazybitch.”“ShootthedriverandI’llripastriprightoffthecarhood,”shesaid.“Shootme,and

you’llputabulletthroughtheengine.You’llkilltwohundredthousanddollarsworthofcar.”

“It’sfourhundredtenthousanddollars,”hesaid.“ThereareonlyonehundredtwentyBarchettasintheU.S.”

TheFedExdriverwasedgingtowardthetruck.Shecouldhearhimonhiscellphone,“Possibledomesticdispute.Theguy’sgotagun.”

Shetouchedthekeytothepaintjob,readytoscrapeitdowntheshinyhood.“Don’t!”Joehowled,asifshewasabouttoguthisfirst-born.“Don’thurtit.”“Thenputthegunaway,andgetoutofhere,”Helensaid.Sheheardthesirens,andsodidJoe.HeranfortheFerrari.Hedidn’tevenopenthe

door.Hejustjumpedin.ThepowerfulV-12enginerumbledintolife.Helencouldfeelitvibratingunderher.Shealsorealizedshewasstillonthehood.JoeshiftedtheFerrariintoreverse,swungoutintotheparkinglot,andHelenslidoffthehood.Herkeyleftaninch-widegougethewholelengthofthehood,downtotheyellowprancinghorseemblem.

“Aggghhhhh,”Joescreamedinagony,butkeptdriving.TheFedExdriverwasyelling intothecellphone,“He’sescaping.It’saredFerrari. I

think it’s heading west on Broward toward I-95. He’s got a gun. He’s armed anddangerous.Henearlyranoverawoman.”

Thedriverturnedtoher.“AreyouOK,ma’am?Doyouneedanambulance?”“No,Ifeelterrific,”Helensaid.SherememberedhowherkeyhaddugintotheFerrari

and left that longbrutal trackdownthehood.Shehadn’t felt sogoodsinceshetookacrowbartoRob’sSUV.

“Icangetthatpackageforyounow,”thedriversaid.“No,thanks,”Helensaid.“Idefinitelywanttosendit.”

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Chapter36

JoewasclockedgoingonehundredeightymilesanhouronI-95.HehadtoslowdowndramaticallywhenheencounteredawhiteLincolnContinental

drivenbyMrs.GeraldineFitzhammer,ageseventy-six.Mrs.Fitzhammerwasgoingforty-fiveinthefastlane.

Joe’sFerrariglancedoffherrearbumperandwentspinningintotheconcretehighwaydivider. He suffered two broken legs, a broken wrist, and a broken collarbone in thecollision.UnfortunatelyforJoe,heremainedconscious.

Mrs.Fitzhammerwasunhurtbutmadashell.Herlatehusband’s1983LincolndidnothaveascratchonituntilJoeclippedit.Mrs.Fitzhammerwassoangryatthisdesecrationof her husband’s memory that she returned to her car and retrieved the foam boxcontainingtheremainsofherearly-birdspecial.Joewashitwithpotatoeslyonnaise,halfagrouperfilet,broccoliflorets,andabutteredPepperidgeFarmroll,thenbeatenwiththebox.

Mrs.Fitzhammerdidnotstopuntilthepolicearrivedonthescene.ShewasdelightedwhenJoewasarrested.Shewantedthepolicetohandcuffhim,despitethebrokenwrist.

BrittneysawtheFerrarichaseonTV.ShewasarrestedlaterthateveningattheMiamiairport, boarding a flight for Rio. Brittney had always admired Brazil. It had suchinnovativeplasticsurgeons.BrittneymighthavemadeittoRio,ifshehadn’ttakentimetopacktwenty-twopiecesofFendiluggage,includingacatcarrier.

DetectiveKarenGracecalledHelentotellheraboutBrittney’sarrest.“Whathappenedtothecat?”Helensaid.

“I’m trying to figureoutwhat todowithThumbs,”DetectiveGrace said. “Brittneydoesn’thaveanyfamily.Ican’ttakehimhome.Mycatwouldthrowafit.I’llprobablytakehimtotheHumaneSociety.”

“I’lltakehim,”Helensaid.“WhatifBrittneywantshercatback?”“ThenI’llgivehimback.”ButHelenwas sureBrittneywouldnotbe free fora long

time.HelendidnotallowThumbstoroamfree,butshedidwalkhimonaleashbythepool

everynight. Sincepetswerenot allowed at theCoronado,Margerynowhad to ignorePeteandThumbs.ThecatandtheparrotignoredeachotherwhenThumbswentforhisnightlystrollbythepool.

He’dbeenattheCoronadoforaweekwhenthesix-toedcatwasbittenbyaspider.Hishuge paw swelled to twice its size. Peggy droveHelen and Thumbs to the emergency

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animalhospital.Helenhadalways thought that small animaldoctors looked rather likesmallanimals.ButDr.RichardPettonlookedlikeashaggyMelGibson.

HelenwasimpressedwiththewayDr.Richgentlyhandledthehurt,angrycat.“Easy,big guy,we’re just trying to find outwhat’swrong here,” he said, as he examined thegrosslyswollenpaw.WhenThumbslashedout,thevetdeftlydodgedtheslashingclaws.HelennoticedDr.Richwasnotwearingawedding ringbut thatdidnotalwaysmeananythinginSouthFlorida.

Dr. Rich called the next day to check on Thumbs’ progress. That’s when he askedHelenouttodinnerforSaturdaynight.

“We’llgoDutch,”Helensaidwarily.“No,mytreat,”hesaid.“Iaskedyouout.”RichandHelenhadalovelydinnerandawalkonthemoonlitbeach.Theytalkedand

talked,untilhekissedherinthesilverylightbythesoftocean.Theeveningwentsowell,HelenaskedhimoutWednesdaynight—hertreat.Thatonewentevenbetter.Theyhadanotherdatefortonight.

“So how was your evening with Dr. Rich?” Sarah asked. They were at Jaxson’s IceCreamParlorinDania.Helenhadwonthebetandwasabouttoclaimherprize,ahotfudge sundae. Sarah swore it was nirvana on a spoon. Sarah was wearing somethingturquoiseandgauzythatsetoffhercurlybrownhair.Onherwristwasasilverbraceletwith an oval turquoise stone. Sarah had plump, pretty hands, and her jewelry showedthemoff.

“We’regoingoutagaintonight,”Helensaid.“Andthisisyourseconddate?”“Third,”Helensaid.ShethoughtofRich’skisses,andapleasantlittlesizzlezappedall

otherthoughts.“EarthtoHelen,”Sarahsaid.Helen blushed and quickly changed the subject. “So this place has been around

awhile?”“Since1956.That’sancientforSouthFlorida.Theymaketheirownicecream.”The

wallswereanappealingjumbleofoldlicenseplates,oddgadgets,andantiqueads.Helenwatchedthemanbehindthecounterputthefinishingtouchesonherhotfudgesundae.Hewashuge,andhisskinwasasdarkandlustrousasthehotfudgeheladledout.Good.Helendidnottrustathinmaninanice-creamparlor.

Awaitress inacandy-stripedoutfitbrought the toweringcreations.Eachwas toppedwithathunderheadofwhippedcreamandhadasidedishofextrahotfudge.

“I’llnevereatallthis,”Helensaid.“Wanna bet?” Sarah said. “And since we’re discussing betting, I should say

congratulations.Youwereright.Iwaswrong.BrittneykilledChristina.”“Didn’tyourcarjackinginvestigationgoanywhere?”“Ithitadeadend,pardonthepun.Whatdoyouhearfromthepolice?”“Notmuchmorethanyou’rereadinginthepaper,”Helensaid.“YouknowJoe’sgoing

totestifyagainstBrittney.”“Ithoughttheyhadsuchahotromance.”“They did. But now Joe is looking at a long date in the federal pen for illegal

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immigrantsmuggling.Hedecidedtosavehisonetruelove—himself.“Bytheway,JoeclaimsChristinatookthosepicturesofBrittneywhackingherfiancé

withachampagnebottle,soIguessedright.JoetoldthepolicethatshestoodonthedeckandkeptshootingphotoswhileBrittneybashedtheguy.ChristinabraggedtoJoeabouthowshedidn’tflinch,despitetheblood.”

Sarahwinced.“That’scold.”“Ithinkitrunsinherfamily.”“How’sthestore?”“Not good,”Helen said. “WithChristina’smurder, plus Joe’s illegal immigrant and

drugmess,we’reup toourhem-lines in lawenforcement.Youneverknowwhensomecoporfederalagentwillwalkin.”

“ThatmustmaketheboyfriendsofJuliana’sregularsnervous,”Sarahsaid.“Salesarewaydown.EversinceVenetia’schild-sexscandalbroke,wehaven’thadany

seriouscustomers,justsightseersinflip-flops.DidyouhearthepressconferenceVenetia’slawyergave?HesaidshedidthoseterriblethingsbecauseshewasonChristina’spills.”

“Ouch,”Sarahsaid.“Look,Idon’twanttomakeyoufeelworse,butdoyoulistentotheCrazyCrackerMorningShow?HecalledJuliana’stheLittleDressShopofHorrors.Said it had a real exclusive clientele.Onlymurderers, childmolesters, andpill popperswereallowedthroughthegreendoor.”

“Wecan’tsurvivethatkindofpublicity.Juliana’sisdonefor,”Helensaid.“IsawTaraonTVacoupleoftimes,butyou’veneverbeeninterviewed.Howdidyou

avoidthat?”“It wasn’t easy. The reporters were camped in front of Juliana’s for a week. Each

morning,Iwentinsidewearingdarkglassesandaheadscarfandcarryingabagofcleaningsupplies.Itoldthereporters:‘NospikEnglish.’”

“Andtheybelievedyou?”“Sure.Ihavedarkhair.”“Iloveit.How’syourjobsearchgoing?”“It’snot.Ican’tfindathing.Itdoesn’thelpwhenItellthemwhereIwork.”“Helen,Idon’twanttonag,butIcangetyouagoodjobatadecentcompany.”Helen couldn’t accept Sarah’s generous offer. She had to stay out of corporate

computers.Robwouldfindher.“ThecatDNAtestresultscamebackyesterday,”shesaid,switchingsubjectswiththe

subtletyofasledgehammer.Sarah,deepintoherhotfudge,didnotseemtonotice.“ThetestsprovedthecathairfoundonChristina’sbody,thecathairinherpenthouse,

andthecatatBrittney’shomewerethesameanimal.SunnyseaBeachistakingcreditforthewholething.They’rebraggingabouttheirpioneeringinvestigativetechniques.”

“Butitwasyouridea,”Sarahsaid.“Idon’tcare.They’repickingupthebillfortheDNAtest.Twotests,actually,sinceI

gotthefirstroundofcatDNAwithoutawarrant.Theywantasecondtestthatwillstandupincourt.”

“Thatisgoodnews.”Youdon’tknowhowgood,Helen thought.She’dplanned topay for thatDNAtest

outofthetwenty-five-thousand-dollarrewardforfindingChristina’skiller.Butshecould

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notclaimthemoney.Themerchantsassociationinsistedonmediainterviews,includingUSAToday.Helencouldnotrisknationwidepublicity.Herex,Rob,orthecourtmightfindher.Sosheturneddownthereward.ItwasthepriceshehadtopaytostayinSouthFlorida.

Helencouldnotsuppressasighasshethoughtofthelostmoney.“See, I thought you’d like Jaxson’s,” Sarah said. She thought Helen was sighing in

delightoverhersundae.Helenrealizedshewasscrapingthelastofthefudgeoutofthesidedish.She’deatenthewholething.

“Thatwasaterrificlunch,”Helensaid.“I’mgladweskippedthesandwichesandwentstraightforthesundaes.Nopointwastinggoodstomachspaceonordinaryfood.NowIhavetogobacktowork.JustdropmeoffatFederalHighwayandBroward.Ineedthewalk.”

Itwasnearlyoneo’clockona sunnywinter afternoon.Flowersbloomed.Palm treesrustled like taffeta dresses. Passersby looked trim and chic. Even the signs in the storewindowswereattractive.EspeciallytheoneinthewindowofPageTurnersbookstore.Itsaid,“HELPWANTED.Immediateopeningsforbooksellers.”

Helenwent straight in and asked for themanager.Gaylewas small and blonde anddressedinblack,likeaJuliana’sregular,butsheworeDocMartens,ashoethatnevertrodJuliana’scarpet.

Helenbreathedinthesmellofhardbacksandreveledintheircolorfulcovers.Shesawasign announcing that Burt Plank would be signing there Saturday. A real bestsellingmysterywriter.Nomoreempty-headedbimbos.Helenknewshewouldlikeithere.ThensherememberedwhattheothermanagersaidonherfirstinterviewatPageTurners.

“WillIhavetocleantoilets?”Helensaid.“Notifyouworkdays,”Gaylesaid.Helen could livewith that, especially afterGaylewent upstairs to talk to the owner

aboutherspecialcircumstances.Shewasbackintenminutes.“Hesayshecanpayyousixseventyanhourincash,”Gaylesaid.“That’stwentycents

lessthanourotherbooksellersmake,buthesaysit’sreallymorebecausetherearenotaxesandwithholding.”Gaylelookedlikeshedidnotbelievethis.Helensaidthemoneywasfine.ShewantedoutofJuliana’s.

“Whencanyoustart?I’dliketobegintrainingyoutoday,”Gaylesaid.“Letmemakeaphonecall.I’llbebackinhalfanhour.”HelenfeltnoloyaltytoMr.Roget,notafterhe’ddockedherpayforthechampagne.

Dead-end jobworkerswerepowerless.Theywereyelledatbycustomersandabusedbycheapbosses.Theirhourswerechangedwithoutnotice.Theywerefiredfornoreason.

Theyhadonlyoneweapon,andHelenwasabouttouseit.ShemarchedintoJuliana’s.“Tara,”shesaid.“I’mcallingMr.Roget.You’llwanttobehereforthis.”

Tarawaitedexpectantly,rockingfromonedaintyfoottotheother,whileMr.Roget’ssecretaryfoundtheiremployer.Finally,hecameontheline.

“I’mquitting,”Helensaid.Tara’seyebrowsshotstraightintoherhair.ShecouldhearMr.Rogetsputteringandprotesting.

“When?Rightnow.What?You’llgivemeadollar-an-hourraise?No,thankyou.Don’tworryaboutsendingmethisweek’spay.I’lltakethemoneyoutofthetillbeforeIleave.

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I’llalsotakethemoneyyoudockedmeforthechampagne.Iknowyouweren’tserious.Youcouldn’tpossiblybethatcheap.”

Taraletoutanaudiblesnort.“Stealing?Idon’tthinkso.Butyoucanreportmeifyouwish,Mr.Roget.Ofcourse,

you’dhavetoexplainourunusualfinancialarrangement.“YouwanttospeaktoTara?She’srighthere,Mr.Roget.”HelenhandedthephonetoTara,wholistenedforamomentandsaid,“Noway.I’m

outtahere,OldTightwad.Getsomeoneelsetoworkforyourmiserablemoney.”Tarahungupthephone,laughing.“Freeatlast,”shesaid.HelenpaidTaraherwagesoutofthetill,thentookthemoneyshewasowed,butnota

pennymore.Shebalancedthecashdrawerandputitinthesafe,turnedoffthelights,andturnedonthealarm.

Asshewaslockingthedoor,askinnywomanwearingaHarleyT-shirtandmissingtwoteethrangJuliana’sdoorbell.Twoweeksago,shewouldneverhavedared.

“I’msorry,ma’am,butwe’reclosed,”Helensaid.Thensheshutthegreendoorforthelasttime.

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Epilogue

Juliana’sneverreopenedafterHelenshutthegreendoor.Thestoreisnowawood-firedpizzarestaurant.Thepizzaplacekeptthepaintingofthe

notorious Juliana,bought at theEpiscopalian rummage sale.The red-lipped,hard-eyedJulianalooksdowndisdainfullyonchicken-and-artichokepizza.Thegreendoorhasbeenpaintedtomatored.

Helen still has Thumbs. Brittney wanted Maria to care for the cat. If Brittney hadarrangedforherslave-maidtohavetheproperpapers,shemighthavehadherwish.ButMariadidnothaveagreencard.Shewas toobusyworryingabout theINStoconcernherselfwithacat.

HelenisstilldatingDr.Rich,althoughsheisnolongersurewhoseturnitistopayfordinner.

“Is this serious?” her landlady,Margery, askedHelen one evening as they sat by theCoronadopool.

Helenthoughtoftheirlastnighttogetherandsmiled.“It’stooearlytotell,”shesaid.“But Imay have found the one singleman in South Florida who’s not a deadbeat, adrunk,oradruggie.”

“We’ll see,”Margery said.She stillhadnot forgiven themale species forDaniel, thedivinelyhandsomeconman,notevenwhenshereadthathe’dbegoingtoprisonforhisfrauds.

HelenlivedinDaniel’soldapartment,2C,fortenweekswhileherhomewasrepaired.Margery threw a party when Helen’s place was ready. Her apartment looked just thesame,onlybetter.Theboomerang table and theBarcaloungerwereback in theirusualplaces.Thenewbeddidnotsqueak.Sittingonaturquoisechenillespreadwasabrownteddybearwith a slit in its back.Thiswas indeed a stuffedbear. Itwas stuffedwith ahundreddollars.Margeryclaimednot toknowhowthemoneygot inside.Helen lovedeverythingabouthernewplaceexceptthefaintodorofsmoke,butsheonlysmelleditonrainymornings.

EveryoneattheCoronadoattendedHelen’spartyexceptherneighborPhil.Helenhadtriedtothankthe invisiblepotheadseveral times,butheneveransweredthedoor.Onenight,sheleftdouble-stuffedOreosandtwoquartsofCherryGarciaicecreampackedindryiceonthedoorstepandyelled,“Thankyou,Phil.”

Thecookiesandicecreamweregoneinthemorning.

TaraandTiffanydidnothavetoreveal their imperfectpasts totheirboyfriends.Tara’s

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return to her old job-free life had one unfortunate side effect. Her neighbor, Mr.Rodriguez,sufferedamildheartattackwhenshesteppednudeintothehottubatthreeintheafternoon.

Tiffanywiththebadeyejobstillhasthesameboyfriend,Burt,butshedidgetanewpoolservice.

AlthoughthehitmanwhokilledDesireeEasleewasneverfound,Nikiwasarrestedforhermurder.UnderFlorida law, thepersonwho joins in a crime is as guilty as theonewho pulls the trigger. Niki was charged with first-degree murder and conspiracy tocommitfirst-degreemurder.

Her husband, Jimmy the Shirt, hired the best criminal defense attorney in FortLauderdale.HegotNikioutonbond.Jimmyputupthemoney.Atapressconference,he saidhis lovelywife couldnot possibly be guilty of this terrible crime, andhe stoodbehindheronehundredpercent.

He was standing behind her a month later when she slipped and fell off his one-hundred-footyacht,but,alas,hewasunabletosaveher.Theseawasrough,thenightwasfoggy,andsowasNikiafterfivemargaritas.Herbodywasrecoveredthreedayslater.NikiwascrematedandherasheswerescatteredonthebeachinBelize.

DetectiveDwightHansel received a commendation for his investigation of Joe’s illegalimmigrant and drug smuggling ring. He was hired by the Miami Palms policedepartment.

Joewastriedandsentencedtotwentyyearsinthefederalpenitentiary.HisFerrari550Barchetta was totaled, leaving only one hundred nineteen in the United States. Joe’sinsurance company refused to give him the full replacement price of four hundred tenthousanddollars,sayingthecarwasnotingoodcondition.Theycitedalongscratchonthehood,whichwasnottheresultoftheaccident,andfoodstainsonthe leatherseats.The insurance check was confiscated by the federal government under the RICOracketeeringlaws.

DetectiveKarenGracewasnamed“FloridaLawEnforcementOfficeroftheYear”forherinnovative murder investigation using animal DNA. She was offered a job with theBrowardCountySheriff’sofficeatasubstantialincreaseinsalary.

Brittneywas chargedwith themurders ofChristina and her fiancé, Steven.HelenwasrelievedthatBrittneywasnotchargedwithtryingtoburndownherapartmentandkillher.ThatmeantHelenwouldnot have to testify. She could continue to escapemediaattention.

Brittneydeniedeverything.ShehiredOliverSteinway,thesameattorneyDanielusedforhisfireextinguisherscam.

Theprosecutionfeltithadagoodcase,thankstoDetectiveKarenGrace.ShespoketoEmmanuella,theHaitianhousekeeperwhoworkednextdoortoBrittney.Shedrovethebatteredgraycarwiththetwine-tiedtrunk.

Emmanuella saidBrittneywanted togiveher fiftydollars toborrowher car andheruniform.Emmanuellasaidno.ShehadtogotohernieceMerline’sweddingalltheway

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upinDeerfieldBeach,andsheneededhercar.Brittneythrewintwohundreddollarsforcabfare.Itwaspocketchangeforher,butnearlyaweek’spayforEmmanuella.

The frugalEmmanuella had a cousinwhoworked for a limo service.He gave her aspecialdeal,andshegotalimousinecheaperthanacab.Emmanuellaputthedifferenceinhersavingsaccountandpulledupat thechurch ina limobigger thanthebrideandgroom’s. There was no question about the date. The entire family remembered whenEmmanuellathehousekeepercametotheweddinglikearichlady.

At the trial, thewhole storyof themurders cameout—or at least theparts that theprosecution couldpiece together. It startedwith aman.Brittney foundouther fiancé,Steve, had been planning to dump her for a blond ten years younger. The blondwasnamedKevin.Kevinwasmarriedthen,anddidn’tdaregotothefuneralortothepolice.

IfBrittneycouldn’thaveSteve’slove,shewantedhismoney.Stevehadnotchangedhiswillyet.Ifshekilledhim,shewouldinheriteverything.

ChristinaofferedtohelpBrittneywithSteve’smurder.ShewasontheHatterasonthatfinal cruise. She also took the incriminating photos. When Brittney inherited Steve’smoney,Christinabeganblackmailingher.Justafew“loans”atfirst,butthenChristina’sgreedgrewuntilBrittneykilledher.

TheprosecutionsaidChristinainsistedthatBrittneydelivertheblackmailpaymentstoherpenthouseafterworkonSaturdays.The frontdesk records showedBrittneyusuallyvisitedChristinaonceamonth.

Thelasttime,Brittneycameprepared.Shebuttonedthemaid’sshapelessuniformoverherdressandputabigplastic trashcan inthebatteredgraycar.ThenshewheeledthetrashcanintheserviceentranceatOneOceanPalmTowers,rightpasttheHispanicstaffontheirsmokingbreak.Noonechallengedher.

Brittneytooktheserviceelevator tothepenthouse, tookoff themaid’suniform,andleftitandthewheeledtrashcaninthefirestairwell.

Once inside,BrittneyfoundsomeexcusetogetChristina intheguestbathroomandclobberedherwithaheavyjarofbathsalts.

Brittneywipedupmostoftheblood,butenoughseepedintothewhitetilegroutthatthe police suspected murder. When they found bits of bone and brain matter, theirsuspicionswereconfirmed.Brittneymayhavewornahousekeeper’suniform,butshedidnotcleanlikeapro.

Brittney hauled Christina’s body out of the condo in the wheeled trash can. TheHispanic staffwhohungoutback remembered that theprettyblondmaid struggled togettheheavytrashcanintothatoldgraycar.Theyhelpedhertiethetrunkwithtwine.That night, Joe put the body in a barrel and dumped it into Biscayne Bay. It wassupposedtolooklikeamobhit.

It didn’t.ButBrittney stillmighthave gotten awaywithmurder if shehadn’t takenthatcat.Shethoughtshe’dcleanedthepenthousethoroughlyofanytraceofThumbs,butsheneverfoundthegroomingbrushdeepinthecabinet.ThatbrushandonerootedhaironChristina’sbodywereenoughtoturntheinvestigationtowardher.

BrittneyhadtofightDNAfromthreeseparatesources.TherewasthecatDNA,whichprovedshehadthevictim’scat.Also,acrumpledtissuewasfoundintheguestbathroomwastebasket.Brittneyhadblownhernose and left her ownDNAat the scene.On the

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sametissueweresmallamountsofChristina’sblood.ThepolicefoundChristina’sbloodandhairinawheeledtrashcanatBrittney’shomeandinthebatteredgraycar.

Still,thereportersthoughtBrittneywouldnotbeconvicted.“AKleenex,acathair,andthreepeoplewhobarelyspeakEnglishisn’tmuchofacase,”oneofthepunditssaid.Joetestified, too, aspartof adeal for a reduced sentence,buthewasdismissedas a “lyinggoombah.”

Most reporters secretly feltBrittanywouldgo freebecause shewas sobeautiful.Themenonthejurycouldnotstopstaringather.Theycouldnottaketheireyesoffherlovelyface.

Buttoeveryone’ssurprise—exceptHelen’s—Brittneywasfoundguilty.The foreman told reporters why the jury voted to convict her: Brittney showed no

emotionthroughoutthetrial.

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ALSOBYELAINEVIETS

ANGELARICHMAN,DEATHINVESTIGATORBrainStorm

FireandAshesIceBlonde(Novella)*

DEAD-ENDJOBMYSTERIESShopTillYouDrop*

MurderBetweentheCovers*DyingtoCallYou*JustMurdered*

MurderUnleashed*MurderWithReservations*

ClubbedtoDeath*KillerCuts*

HalfPriceHomicide*PumpedforMurder*

FinalSail*BoardStiff*Catnapped!*CheckedOut

TheArtofMurderKillerBlonde(Novella)

JOSIEMARCUS,MYSTERYSHOPPERDyinginStyle*

HighHeelsAreMurder*AccessorytoMurder*

MurderwithAlltheTrimmings*TheFashionHoundMurders*

AnUpliftingMurder*DeathonaPlatter*

MurderIsaPieceofCake*FixingtoDie*

ADogGoneMurder*

FRANCESCAVIERLINGMYSTERIESBackstabRubout

ThePinkFlamingoMurdersDocintheBox

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*AvailableinJABberwockyeBookeditions

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ABOUTTHEAUTHOR

ElaineVietshaswritten32mysteries in four series: thebestsellingDead-EndJob serieswith South Florida PI Helen Hawthorne, the cozy Josie Marcus Mystery Shoppermysteries, and the darkFrancescaVierlingmysteries.With theAngelaRichmanDeathInvestigator series, Elaine returns to her hardboiled roots and uses her experience as astrokesurvivorandher studiesat theMedicolegalDeathInvestigatorsTrainingCourse.Elaine was a director at large for the Mystery Writers of America. She's a frequentcontributor toAlfredHitchcock'sMysteryMagazine and anthologies edited byCharlaineHarrisandLawrenceBlock.ElainewontheAnthony,AgathaandLeftyAwards.

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