When I went back into the huge great room, confident that I looked normal again, except for the lingering glazed stupor in my eyes, the first person I saw was Maggie Sheffield, standing right in front of me. She frowned a moment, then looked me up and down. Then she smiled. "Well, Mac, who just put you out of your misery?"

It was impossible. There was no way she could tell what I'd been doing. No way.

"You want to dance, Maggie?"

"I wonder," she said, tapping her fingertips on her cheek, her head cocked to one side.

"All right. No dance. I'd like to meet Elaine Tarcher," I said. "Could you introduce me?"

"Why not? Come along, Mac, that's Elaine over there, in the midst of that group of men. She's a middle-aged femme fatale. I think she's ridiculous with all her little coyness, a little pathetic actually. She's old enough to be my mother."

The first thought in my brain when I saw Elaine Tarcher up close was that if she wanted to jump me, I wouldn't have hesitated any longer than I'd hesitated with her daughter. The woman wasn't anywhere near her husband's age. I knew she had to be at least in her late forties, given Cotter's age, but still, she just didn't look it. There wasn't anything pathetic about her. I had nothing against cosmetic surgery, if that's what she used to stop the march of gravity. If so, Elaine Tarcher had an excellent cosmetic surgeon. She looked to be in her thirties, no older. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, sheer black panty hose, and black high heels. She had Cal's rich brown hair, short and styled in a mussed-up fashion that made her look very natural and, at the same time, eminently sophisticated. At least half a dozen men were standing around her in a circle, and she let them admire her. I heard her laugh, a charming sound, full and deep and very personal. I didn't agree at all with Maggie that any of her moves were ridiculous.

I heard Alyssum Tarcher call out Maggie's name. She shrugged, pressed my hand, and left me. I stood there observing Elaine Tarcher's magic.

"Everyone thinks my mother is just a silly, useless ornament, but it's not true."

I smiled down at Cal Tarcher, who'd come up behind me. I couldn't see any just-had-sex signs on her face. She was back in her frump mode, neat as could be, her glasses firmly in place. She had changed her blouse since I'd ripped hers. This one was just as bland.

"Introduce me, Cal."

She looked up at me, silent for a moment, and said, "I wish you weren't staying with Paul."

I felt her lurching upward, bringing me deeper inside her body, and swallowed hard. "I agree, but there's nothing to be done for it."

"Old Charlie Duck adored my mother. She'll be one of the main speakers at his funeral tomorrow. I hope you'll be there? That's all she's talking about tonight, his murder. She's really mad about it."

"Oh, yes, I won't miss it. Perhaps Jilly can come as well."

"When are you going to leave? To go back to Washington."

"I don't know," I said. "Maybe I'll stay on a couple more days. I thought of Laura and felt a hard dash of guilt for having sex with Cal. I shouldn't, I knew that, but it was still there.

I met Elaine Tarcher, all of her gathered admirers, and Miss Geraldine, the leader of the town League and the mayor of Edgerton. She was a well-dressed old bat with a sharp tongue and faded blue eyes that I bet never missed a thing. She said, "Well, boy, I understand you came to

see what happened to your sister. Well, I'll tell you what happened. She was going around a corner in that Porsche of hers and lost control. I've told Jilly a dozen times to be careful, but she just sings and dances away. She's fine now, I hear. That's good."

"That's exactly what Jilly said happened," I said.

"How long are you staying in Edgerton?"

"You'll make Mr. MacDougal feel unwelcome, Geraldine, and he's not," Elaine Tarcher said. She'd not said anything up to now. She'd been studying me, assessing me, calmly. There was nothing at all flirtatious in her manner. I wondered if she was seeing me as a possible mate for her daughter. I saw her group of friends fade back when her husband came over.

Alyssum nodded to his wife, then kissed Miss Geraldine's parchment cheek. "You've met our guest here, Geraldine?"

"He appears to be a good boy. Or maybe he's just tall and good-looking and nothing else interesting. I've heard he wants to solve the puzzle of our key letters."

"I've been working on it," I said.

"So did Charlie Duck," Elaine Tarcher said. "He told me just a couple of days ago that he was getting real close. I know I never should have thought it up since I didn't have anything to go with it, and I've thought and thought, but without reportable results."