I saw a man's hand pick up the ladle, and on his costume uniform cuff, a Royal Air Force b.u.t.ton. That hand didn't hesitate to drop a peanut into the body glue. "Take that, b.i.t.c.h," he said with a voice that could rival James Earl Jones.

Another peanut got dropped in with a flourish. "She wouldn't be a DeLong if it wasn't for me!"

The last got fumbled and dropped and had to be caught by a shaking hand with a diamond and gold cigar band ring, G. L. L. engraved in the center.

During that fumble, I got a peek at the aging linoleum floor in the dressing rooms at the theater.

I opened my eyes and saw that several of the models were watching me. "Did you have a good sleep?" Phoebe asked. "We hated to wake you but the show's almost finished, and you have to put on the Chanel dress for the finale."

"Oh sure." I stood up and saw that there was another black robe on a different chair. "Eve, which is the robe you brought for me?"

"Sorry," Eve said, "but it's not the one you're wearing."

"That's my robe," Rainbow Joy said. "No problem. I don't mind that you wore it."

I picked up Rainbow Joy's hand and ran my finger over her purple nail polish. "Pretty color, but you should stop biting your nails."

"Dominique used to say that I'd get an infection if I didn't stop."

"Well," I said. "You showed her."

Rainbow paled and took a quick step back, before she shook her head, denying the venom in my statement.

I finished the fashion show in Coco's gown, accepted everyone's congratulations, and ate creme brulee in a daze.

Melody and Kira had gotten a great many donations from the vintage clothing collectors and big checks from Cort. But I felt as if I existed in a parallel universe.

I knew Dominique's murderers and they were, all four, here at the fashion show . . . watching me. They knew where my shop was. They were going to be outside when I left tonight.

Unless I stayed here. Cort would let me. Sherry and Justin were staying.

I needed to tell someone who could do something about this, but I didn't want to ruin Dominique's show with a scandal or lower the donations for the charities, as people were still writing checks.

Werner came my way. He might be able to keep me safe, if I could figure a way to act like I needed protecting.

Nick knew about my psychometric ability, and sure, he thought I was nuts at first, until I proved myself. But telling Werner? No. No way. Never.

I sure wished Nick had come tonight despite the fact that he'd rather be Tasered than attend a fashion show. I mean, he could have come just to support me, though he did say he had paperwork for the Bureau to do.

I know, he'd attended some boring c.o.c.ktail parties with people in the fashion industry, but, well, this was different. This was my show, for my dear friend.

"Mad," Werner whispered, "don't you think you should get that dress with the diamonds on it to the New York police?"

"Why?" I asked. "Dom gave it to me."

"They're stolen diamonds."

I couldn't screw with him anymore than I'd already been forced to do. I excused myself to the people waiting to talk to me and walked Werner a bit away from the crowd. "Can I be honest with you?"

"Of course. Anytime."

I pulled him into the family dining room, the small one, which only sat twenty people, and shut the door.

"Those aren't diamonds on the dress. They're rhinestones."

"But you called them diamonds."

"Did you see the way Lance Taggart and Ian DeLong jumped to pick them up? They think they're diamonds, which means they might have murdered Dom. I let them think they were right so I could watch their reactions."

"That doesn't sound very smart."

"Yeah, I've figured that out. Can you drive me home?"

"Sure. I'll even bring you back for your Element, tomorrow."

"Right, I need my car for Dom's vintage clothes. I chose the Element because it could hold so many. I'm bringing them back to New York when I drive in for the reading of the will late tomorrow afternoon."

"Bring one vintage dress with you now, will you?" Werner asked. "Bring the one with the fake diamonds. That way Cort's house won't be a target. Carry it out on a hanger so everybody can see it."

"Good idea, except that would make us targets."

"I know, Mad. I have a worse-case-scenario plan. Trust me?"

"I do." Surprisingly.

Sherry had already gone up for the night by the time I got back out there to mingle with my guests. Melody and Kira would let me know how well we did, because some people took home brochures, so it wasn't over.

Eve and Kyle left right before we did, and Eve's wink at me said she had plans. Kyle looked quite pleased to climb into my best friend's less than large but quite sporty little Mini Cooper and be taken anywhere she cared to take him.

I was happy for them.

It wasn't long into our drive down the winding ocean road that Werner took a turn I didn't expect.

"What are you doing?"

"We're being followed," he said. "By some old car."

"Two-tone silver 1953 Bentley limo?"

Werner gave me a double take. "What are you, a car savant?"

"It belongs to DeLong Limited. It's Ian DeLong."

"Or Kyle," Werner said.

"I wouldn't be afraid, if it was Kyle."

"Maybe you should be."

Forty-five.

Souls wouldn't wear suits and ties, they'd wear blue jeans and sit cross-legged with a gla.s.s of red wine.

-CARRIE LATET "Where are you taking me?" I asked Werner.

"Since we can't shake the DeLong car, I'm arresting you. Murderers rarely try to break into jail. Do you have any evidence that they're Dominique DeLong's murderers, by the way?"

Admissible evidence? "Only their greed and panicked idiotic eagerness to pick up the rhinestones. What are you charging me with?"

"Possession of stolen diamonds."

"They're not diamonds."

"Doesn't matter. Bring the dress. Eventually, a diamond expert will prove you right."

"Not anybody from Pierpont Diamonds, please. You and I sort of p.i.s.sed them off after the funeral. Ask them to get somebody from De Beers or Tiffany, please."

"Primo thought." Werner glanced my way. "With an honest diamond expert, the charges will be dismissed."

"You don't sound convinced."

"You scare me, but my uncertainty in this circ.u.mstance ranks right up there with nebulous dreams."

"Ah, so you know now that they were nebulous?"

"Maybe I just wished they were real."

"I could beat you for not letting Eve's moronic comment of that morning go."

Werner grinned. "I dare you."

"Here it comes: Wiener, Wiener, Wiener!"

He barked a laugh as he pulled into the police station parking lot, while Dom's Bentley kept going, thank G.o.d.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed with him. I guess that's what friends did.

Werner came around to let me out. I carried the seafoam diamond dress in plain sight for anyone who might have been watching: Ian DeLong for one.

"Book her, Billings. Possession of stolen diamonds."

"Oh, that's why you were laughing," Billings said as he pulled out a chair for me at his desk.

I touched Billings' arm. "Thanks for not using cuffs."

"Hey, I took you to our eighth-grade dance," Billings said. "I can catch you if you run, and I'm pretty sure you won't turn into Super Fashionista and fly away. I also know that you wouldn't steal any diamonds."

"After he books you, Mad, call your father, or whoever, to bring you an overnight bag and a blow- up bed you'll be comfortable sleeping on. I have to work on extraditing you to New York."

"What!"

"Tomorrow morning, I drive you in a police car, two ahead of us, two behind, as escorts, in case the '53 Bentley appears on the road."

My fists found my hips. "And I get put in jail in New York City? Are you crazy?"

"Nope. I'm calling ahead. They'll have a diamond expert waiting, the charges will be dismissed, and we'll get them to bring you to the DeLong residence, where you can prep for the reading of the will. Also, we get to give them any clues we can think of. Time to pull out that little ditty about Ian DeLong being the father of the understudy."

"I already told Nick, who told the FBI, but it won't hurt to repeat," I said, "plus it might shed more suspicion on Galina Lockhart, the understudy's mother. I wouldn't be surprised if she was in on it." She so was.

Now if I could only shed some light on Lance Taggart and Rainbow Joy, I'd be in, though Rainbow wanting out at the last minute might work in our favor, I thought.

The expression on her face when I made that comment about getting Dom back sure looked like guilt to me. Sick-to-her-stomach guilt. Plus, if she admitted she was coerced into going along, the police might be willing to cut a deal. But I couldn't get that ball rolling. Only Rainbow Joy could do that.

And who the h.e.l.l owned the black trench coat I was wearing when I saw Dom switch the small jars of body glue? He must be in on it, too, or Dom would have gotten away with it. I couldn't wait to see if the police knew who owned the coat.

I called Aunt Fiona and described the outfit I wanted to wear for the reading of the will tomorrow, then I asked for an air mattress and an overnight bag.

I could hear my father bl.u.s.tering and shouting in the background. "Gee, I hope I didn't interrupt anything."

"Only a DVD of Hamlet and a running commentary on Will Shakespeare. Did you know that he and your father were on a first name basis?"

"Give me that phone!" my father snapped. "Madeira Cutler, what have you gotten yourself arrested for this time?"

Forty-six.

A man hasn't got a corner on virtue just because his shoes are shined.

-ANN PETRY Dad, Aunt Fiona, and Nick arrived at the police station together, Nick feeling guilty because I didn't call him when I was in trouble.

Werner and I told them what went down.

Nick paled and took my hand to stand me up. "I'm sorry I let you down. I should have come, my paperwork be d.a.m.ned," he said, stroking my cheek with the back of a hand, looking at the people around us, both stepping back and holding back, like he didn't really want to.

This wasn't a show for Werner's sake; I could tell the difference.

For one thing I could see that Nick was trembling from the inside out, like my being in danger scared the h.e.l.l out of him.