"No, Jill Mascione brought leftovers from a shindig she catered this afternoon. It's delish, strictly the Russian stuff. It mixes wonderfully well with all the food the boys concocted for you."

"The boys?"

"You won't believe it. Rawlins made me stop at the grocery on the way home. We splurged, and look what they've done!"

Libby stepped back to reveal my kitchen. My rustic table had been transformed by a bountiful display of holiday excess. Trays of hors d'oeuvres stood waiting to be whisked to the guests.

But I looked more closely.

"See?" Libby said. "Jell-O squares and marshmallow treats, crackers with Cheez Whiz. It's brilliant! Men never admit it, but they'd rather eat Doritos than have sex. The boys made everything. Well, almost."

In addition to the junk food, I noticed Libby had added a few other items. Big Frankie Abruzzo's prosciutto-prettily sliced-glistened in readiness with small bites of melon and surrounded by pillowy rolls, aromatic mustards and an avalanche of crisp vegetables.

"Where are Orlando and Rawlins?"

"Around here somewhere. Orlando is playing butler, and he's having the time of his life. Spike follows him everywhere."

"Libby," I said. "Thank you for everything you've done for me these last few days. You are the kindest sister in the world."

She hugged me. "You can pay me back by having a Potions and Passions party on Tuesday. I've already made up a tentative guest list."

I laughed unsteadily and decided not to think about that yet.

"We all pitched in," Libby continued to explain as I walked around the feast. "Delilah brought some kind of gumbo thing that you eat with pita chips-it's in the living room, I think. You will positively die when you taste it. And there's a sweet boy tending bar in the dining room with hardly a stitch of clothing on. And you, young man," she said to Reed, who'd been hanging back, "I know just the girl you'll want to meet, so come with me. Nora, I suppose you'll want to say hello to Emma."

Before kidnapping Reed, Libby steered me into the butler's pantry where we surprised Emma and Monte Bogatz, canoodling over a cutting board covered with chili peppers and two sharp kitchen knives.

Emma wore Monte's Stetson along with her tightest jeans and a Brinker Bra under a snug T-shirt that advertised the Grand Ole Opry.

Monte was saying, "Peppers can get a man hotter'n just about anything except maybe you, sugar, so be careful where you put your pretty fingertips tonight. You never know where some poor cowpoke's tongue is going to find itself later."

"Hey, Sis!" Emma grinned at me while unlooping her arms from around Monte. "You can even throw a party when you're not here. That's talent!"

"Em," I said, hugging her. "Where have you been for two days?"

She shrugged. "Showing Monte some horses I know. Spring will be here soon. I've got to get back in training, and Monte thought he might like to invest in some show jumpers. Seems he's had enough of corporate America. And horses will keep us both sober."

"Give me a trusty horse any day," Monte said. "You always know which end bites and which end shits on your boots."

Emma looked remarkably sober and even sported a hint of pink in her cheeks. She sent me a wry look that snapped my self-control back into place, but then her expression softened. "Hey," she said, affectionately, knocking my shoulder with hers, which was as demonstrative as my little sister could get. "Thanks," she said. "You know, for not giving up on me."

"I won't. I can't." I smiled.

Monte said, "Hell's bells, girls, I think I'm gonna cry."

Behind Monte suddenly loomed the large figure of a grizzly bear with glasses.

"Perry," I said, recognizing the large, furry man. "Happy New Year."

"Hi, yeah, same to you. Say, have you seen Libby?"

"She's over there." I pointed.

Perry nodded. "Is there a place I could be alone with her for a few minutes? I think I know how to solve her problem."

"Which problem is that, big fella?" Emma asked.

"Getting that item of underclothing off. You see, I've studied some chemistry-that's a big part of my business, y'know-and I think I know a way to remove the thing she's having so much trouble with. The silicone makes a chemical reaction, see, with that lotion she's been using."

"I knew there was something dangerous about that ErotaLotion. Emma, this is Perry Delbert, Libby's new . . . friend. Perry, the powder room is through there," I said, pointing. With a wave, I caught Libby's attention. She waved back and made her rendezvous with Perry outside the powder room. We watched them put their heads together.

"Nothing good will come of that," Emma said darkly. Then she jerked her head toward the music. "You better greet your guests, sis. Everybody's having a great time without you, but-"

"Sweetie!" Lexie shouted from the doorway. "There you are at last! Happy New Year!"

For tonight, my dear friend had laid on the glamour with winter-white trousers, a simple white shirt and enough diamonds to pop the eyeballs of the whole Harry Winston company.

"Lex," I said with complete sincerity, "you're a godsend. If it weren't for you, I'd be feeding these people stale Puppy Chow."

"Nonsense, I'm just a friend who wants you to have the best damn New Year possible. Are you okay? I'm sorry my meeting with Brinker was so short. He smelled a rat, I think. I couldn't keep him long. Did everything turn out the way you hoped?"

"Almost."

"Where's Michael?"

"I'm not sure."

Lexie put her arm around my shoulder and squeezed some courage into me. "There's somebody else who stopped by. He didn't realize you were throwing a party, but I took the liberty of inviting him in. He's quite charming, sweetie. Lots of potential. He's in the library, I think."

I wasn't sure I wanted to see Richard yet. And I needed to greet my other guests first anyway, so I headed for the living room.

Orlando bumped past me, holding a silver tray aloft and looking happier than a kid possibly could. "Coming through!"

He barreled into the kitchen to refill his tray with more treats. Behind him scampered Spike, panting with excitement. The puppy never noticed me.

As I passed the powder room, I heard Libby's voice petulantly through the door.

"I can't hold still! What are you doing? That's sticky!"

"Just hang on, honey. I'll be done in a minute."

"What are you doing?" she cried. "Oooh! It's hot!"

"Just a little more-"

"Oh!" she screamed. "Oh, oh!"

Hastily, I hurried away.

In the living room alcove I found Delilah's friend, who effortlessly mixed drinks in his astonishingly small thong. His suntan indicated he spent a lot of hours on nude beaches, and his wide smile showed he was delighted with the crowd's reaction to his antics. A bevy of giggly young women I'd never met hung around him.

In the living room, Kenny Andersen played Cole Porter on my out-of-tune baby grand, while Jake Jacobson, in his full Patty Lupone regalia, leaned provocatively against the piano and led the crowd in a sing-along. A few couples danced to the romantic music. I saw Rawlins, front and center, gaping at Patty's sparkly dress.

All voices rose louder as I stepped into the room. I waved to everyone and took a bow in the middle of the song, but they didn't stop singing. There was laughter, and a few guests bounded forward to give me hugs.

I air-kissed my way through the crowd, happier to see everyone than I imagined I could be.

I met Delilah Fairweather in the foyer where she was-of course-shouting over the music into her cell phone while plugging her other ear with a long, enameled forefinger. Her braids danced from the topknot on her head.

"Gotta go," she said to her caller when she laid eyes on me. She snapped the phone shut. "Girlfriend! You know the most exciting people! Did you know there's a country singer here and a former governor and that doctor who does all the transplants, and just a minute ago I met the girl who's going to Broadway next month, and I think she's gonna sing racy songs later. All we need is the Mafia Prince to finish spicing things up, and you're got everything covered! Give me a kiss!"

I did and wrapped my arms around her, too. "Delilah, thanks so very much. If it weren't for the information you gave me-"

"You caught Kitty's killer? I mean, the person who hired the hit man?"

"Yes," I said. "The police are working out charges now."

"Will Brinker go to jail?"

"Probably on the arson charge. Sabria says he hired Danny to torch the comedy club, which is how Brinker hooked her up with Danny to kill Kitty. She's the one who officially hired Kitty's killer. And it's all on videotape that Brinker filmed himself."

"Kinky. But, damn," said Delilah. "I want one of those Brinker Bras real bad. I wonder if the company will implode before anybody gets to buy the bras in stores?"

"It's very possible."

Delilah's expression softened. "You deserve a vacation, Nora. How about going to my condo in Puerto Rico for a few days? Take a friend. Enjoy some fresh sea air and some hot nights."

"You're too generous. I'd take you up on that offer, but I've got a shot at a job and I need to focus on that for a while."

"You do what needs doing," she said. "Who's Mr. Good-looking in the library? Honey, the Mafia Prince had better be more delicious than Denzel if you're choosing him over this guy." She hooked her thumb in the direction of Richard D'eath.

Her phone rang and I left her to talk with her caller.

In the doorway, I hesitated. The party music was behind me. The library seemed very quiet.

Richard turned from studying the books on my shelves. He had a glass of something in one hand, but he'd left his cane leaning against the leather sofa. Even from across the room, I saw the wash of relief cross his face.

He said, "You're safe."

"Yes."

"And you got the story."

I smiled wryly and went into the room. "Not exactly."

"Let me guess. You didn't write it up?"

"It wasn't my beat," I said. "That's the right word, right? My 'beat'?"

He didn't venture across the floor without his cane, but waited for me to arrive in front of him. He wore a worn button-down shirt that looked soft to the touch. But I kept my hands to myself. He didn't answer me.

I said, "Did you get your story written, too?"

"Not yet," he allowed. He put down his drink. "I need time to untangle the information. I'm sorry I couldn't find Brinker last night. I heard you did."

"Yes."

"You do good work when you put your mind to it."

"Thanks."

"But if you need some help improving your journalism skills," he said, "I could be available."

We smiled at each other, not like colleagues, but something closer. He smelled delicious, but the music that wafted into the library wasn't potent enough to change how I felt. Nature just didn't tug me in Richard's direction. And no amount of Cole Porter was going to change that.

I felt my smile turn regretful and mustered some good humor. "What are you reading?"

We looked at the book he held in his hand.

"You are the strangest woman I've ever met," he said. He opened the book to reveal a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill between the front cover and the first page. "You keep all your folding money in books?"

"Where did that come from?"

He pulled down another volume to demonstrate. "Haven't you heard of banks?"

I opened a copy of Robert Penn Warren's poems. Another hundred-dollar bill lay within the pages. "What in the world?

"You didn't put the cash here?"

"No, I . . . It must be Lexie!"

"There's money in just about all these books-maybe thousands of dollars. Who did this?"

"My friend. She kept pushing me to have this party, and I didn't . . ." My voice trembled. "I should have known she had a plan up her sleeve. She organized this whole thing."

"What are you talking about?"

I closed the book of poetry and kept my head down so that Richard couldn't see my expression. "I did it once for a friend, too. It's a foolproof way of helping out someone who needs money. Lexie knows I could never take cash as a gift. So she planned all this to help me."

"Nice friend."

"All my friends."

"Hey," Richard said. He put the book back on the shelf, then came close and pulled me gently against his body. He said, "Don't cry. They're good friends who obviously care about you."

"I can never repay them."

"So don't. You've obviously given them something equally valuable. Use it in good conscience."