"You'd chalk the connection among the victims to coincidence?"

"Saying it's a coincidence sounds just as far-fetched." Nat alie thought for a moment. "But, Nick, these three people had more in common than being children of people who knew Eugene Farley. They were involved in a love triangle."

"In a case involving a love triangle only one or two people are murdered. If there's a third death, it's a suicide. None of these was a suicide." Natalie's forehead creased in thought and her gaze grew far away. "Today I called Constance Farley, Eugene 's mother," Nick went on. "Her husband died just weeks after Eugene. She lived in Columbus at the time of the deaths, but six months ago she moved to Knoxville, Tennessee. I learned that tidbit from Ted, who is dating a woman who was involved with Farley."

"Good Lord, what an incestuous little town we are!"

Nick grinned. "I wouldn't go so far as to say incestuous, but it's hard for me to get used to all these relationships. I like it, though. It makes getting information easier."

"Who needs paid snitches when everyone knows everyone else's business and loves to talk about it? So what did you ask Mrs. Farley? If she'd been in Port Ariel slashing people's throats?"

"I tried something more subtle, but she got my meaning. She seemed shaky, but she told me she hadn't left Knoxville for months. She claimed she didn't know anything about the murders and she didn't want to know. She said, 'I just want to be left in peace.' "

"And you left her in peace."

"I didn't push it, but I called the Knoxville police and gave them the story. Very cooperative bunch down there. Two hours later they called back and told me they'd talked to Mrs. Farley's neighbors. Seems she's never been gone for even one day since she moved in almost six months ago."

"The neighbors have seen her every day?"

"Yeah. She has a dog and walks it rain or shine."

"How about when they can't see her? She could have come up here at night."

"It's approximately a sixteen-hour drive from Knoxville to here."

"She could fly."

"I thought of that, but the Knoxville police also told me Constance doesn't have a driver's license, which eliminates car rental. She'd have to fly into Cleveland and take a commuter flight to Port Ariel. The commuter flight schedules don't fit. She couldn't leave Knoxville at night and be back early the next day."

"You are thorough." Natalie tapped her fingers on her cup. "So Constance Farley hasn't been running back and forth to kill people in Port Ariel?"

"Seems not, and the Knoxville cops found the idea a stretch. I joked along with them, but I felt like a fool for suggesting it. When you say it, it does sound crazy, but I can't ignore the connection of the victims' parents with Eugene Farley, much as I hate to give up on the idea that Lily or her father had something to do with the double homicide." He paused. "You look uncomfortable. What is it?"

"This morning someone pulled another prank." She told Nick about the call from a woman claiming to be Lily and her meeting with Jeff Lindstrom. "You're going to ask if the voice on the machine sounded like Lily's," she said. "I saved the message and played it back twice. It's close, but it isn't Lily's voice. The enunciation and pace are right but not the quality."

"Did it sound like the voice you heard in The Blue Lady?"

"Yes, only more breathy."

"So you went where the voice asked you to go and you ran into Jeff Lindstrom, who'd been hanging around for hours and who asked you a lot of questions and acted like he might do something to you. Maybe he has more to do with this than we guessed."

"You think he could be the murderer? What does he have to do with Tam, Charlotte, and Warren?"

"Maybe Charlotte is the key. Maybe there was something between them before she came back here."

"She threw over Jeff for Warren? Well, that could explain him killing Charlotte and Warren, but why Tam?"

"I don't know. I'm just throwing out possibilities."

"What about my anonymous calls and the incident at The Blue Lady?"

Nick's face had turned tired and grim. "The voice on the phone and in The Blue Lady sounded like Tamara's. It couldn't have been Lindstrom unless he electronically altered his voice."

"I don't know how that works."

"It's fairly easy to come by the devices you need. Or he might have gotten someone to make the calls for him. How long did you walk on the sh.o.r.eline before you went to the pavilion?"

"Around twenty minutes."

"If Lindstrom was watching you, that would have given him plenty of time to make a call on a cell phone and get someone to the pavilion."

"How could he know I'd go to The Blue Lady?"

"He could have lured you there-done something to set off the dog so she'd follow him and hoped you'd go inside. h.e.l.l, maybe he knew you actually used to go in there and might not be afraid."

"How could he know that?"

"He learned it from the woman who's making these calls for him, someone who's involved with him, someone who knows you."

"Nick, he hasn't been in town long enough to get seriously involved with anyone."

"We don't know how often he's been in this town, Natalie. This doesn't have to be his first visit."

"I guess you're right. Then there's the earring."

"Are you sure it was Tamara's?"

"If it's not hers it's one exactly like it and what are the chances of that? Two years ago I gave Lily and Tamara earrings for their birthday. Lily's had amethysts in a modern bezel setting. Tam's were the old-fashioned filigree." She reached in her pocket and withdrew the earring wrapped in a tissue. "The back is gone. Also, Jimmy handled it, so there probably aren't any good fingerprints."

"You never know," Nick said, holding up the earring by the post. The small amethyst glittered in the light. "I'll check to see if Tamara was wearing only one earring. Some killers take trophies from their victims, you know."

"That would explain him carrying it around."

Nick stood. "I think I need to have a talk with Mr. Lindstrom." He set his Styrofoam cup down beside the coffee urn. "I'll call you tomorrow and tell you what I found out. I also need to talk to Viveca Cosgrove and Oliver Peyton."

"Why?"

"Farley stole the money, because he wanted Viveca back. Peyton was his lawyer. They both have daughters who need to be careful."

"Do you really think this person might go after Alison and Lily?"

"Yes, I do." He paused. "Natalie, Farley didn't die immediately from the shot to the head. He was taken to the hospital. He died while your father was performing surgery, surgery someone claimed your father botched." He gave her a long, penetrating look. "And Andrew St. John has a daughter, too."

Andrew and Ruth arrived only minutes after Nick left. Andrew wore the haggard look that meant he'd done several surgeries. Ruth was bright-eyed and stylish in dark green and pearls.

"Sorry I'm late, honey," Andrew said to Natalie. "Harder day than I expected."

"That's all right. Even Oliver delayed his appearance."

"I thought I saw the sheriff in the parking lot," Ruth offered. "Has he learned anything else about the case?"

"I don't think so," Natalie said vaguely. Now was certainly not the time to go into Ted Hysell's theory about the connection among the victims. "He just stopped by as a courtesy. He'll probably come to the funeral, too. Come say a few words to Lily, Dad. She's not in good shape."

Andrew might have disapproved of Lily through the years, but he was all gentle concern tonight. Oliver did not unbend, looking at Andrew as if he'd never seen him before.

Viveca rushed over. Natalie cringed inwardly, but her father showed no emotion. Viveca might have bewitched Eugene Farley and Oliver Peyton, but apparently she had little effect on Andrew St. John. He introduced her to Ruth, and Natalie smiled inwardly as she noticed Viveca's blue eyes sweep over Ruth, quickly calculating the cost of her clothes and deciding whether the pearls were real. Ruth was probably ten years older than Viveca, but she held her own in the style department. Ruth looked calm and secure as she talked quietly with mourners. The woman had cla.s.s, Natalie thought appreciatively. She also seemed to have made quite a few friends during her short time in Port Ariel, judging by the familiar way she talked to many of the guests.

The wake officially ended at nine o'clock. A few stragglers stayed behind talking about everything except the murder. "I'm going to take Ruth home now," Andrew told Natalie.

"All right. I'll stay and help Lily-"

"No you won't." Lily had materialized in front of her. "You look exhausted, Nat. Please go home. I feel drained, and I still have to get through the funeral tomorrow. I'll really need you then, so you'd better get some rest."

Natalie put up a feeble argument, then dropped it. Lily was right. She was tired, and tomorrow would be long and nerve-wracking. She needed to soak some of her tight muscles in a hot bath and try to drift into what she hoped would be a dreamless sleep.

Andrew had brought Ruth, who asked him to take her by his house so she could retrieve the sungla.s.ses she'd left when she dropped by that morning. Natalie followed the couple in her car, and ten minutes later Blaine joyfully greeted everyone, her tail wagging at the sight of human company. Natalie realized she felt as if the dog had always been part of her life.

She talked Ruth into staying for pie and coffee. They all settled into the living room that glowed with soft lamplight to rehash the evening.

"So many people!" Ruth said. "Tamara had many friends."

"I think most were friends of Oliver and Lily," Natalie explained. "Tamara stayed to herself."

Ruth smiled. "So I've heard. I've been to Curious Things several times and met Lily. She seemed like an extrovert, a fun-lover."

"That's an understatement," Andrew put in. "I used to wish Natalie were closer to Tamara than Lily. Tamara might have curbed my daughter's rebellious streak."

"You weren't able to," Ruth returned tartly. "Frankly, I find high-spirited young women charming. I used to be one. Now I'm quite tame and boring."

"You aren't boring," Andrew announced.

"Church work and a cat. I am boring, just like most women my age." Except for my mother, Natalie thought sourly. "Local gossip tells me Tamara lived like someone at least twice her age, but everyone agrees she was goodhearted." Ruth sighed. "It's such a shame she had to die."

Natalie felt tears well in her eyes. She blinked furiously and stood. "More coffee or-" Her voice broke and she emitted a ragged, "Oh!"

Ruth stood and came toward her. "Natalie, you're a wreck." She patted Natalie's shoulder while Andrew looked at her apprehensively. He'd never known how to handle emotional scenes. After Kira left, Natalie had frequently burst into torrents of tears for her lost mother. Andrew always responded with an agony of blundering, ineffectual distress. Natalie had felt so bad about his misery at the sight of hers that she'd learned to save her tears for times when she was alone. Finally she had squelched them completely, pushing her grief far down and covering it with a blanket of resentment. Bitterness Andrew could handle, anguish he could not.; "I'm sorry," Natalie squeaked out around the lump in her throat. "This is so silly..."

"You're exhausted and upset," Ruth said. "You should get some sleep."

Andrew looked at Natalie warily as if he expected her to start jumping up and down and shrieking. "Would you like a sleeping pill, honey?"

"No. Kira was the one with a taste for downers, not me." That's better, she thought in satisfaction. Andrew appeared relieved that his daughter was issuing acid remarks instead of standing in the middle of the living room weeping. "I'll just clear up the dishes-"

"No, I'll do that," Ruth said, heading for the kitchen. "Off to bed and have golden dreams."

"I never heard of golden dreams before, but I'll try." Nat alie managed a weak smile. "Good night, Dad."

"Good night, my dear. Do you have plenty of blankets?"

It was June, and even if it had been January with a blizzard howling in off Lake Erie, Andrew was not one to worry over bed linens. She must have really rattled him. Natalie tried not to let her amus.e.m.e.nt show in her eyes. "I'm fine, Dad. Come on, Blaine. Bedtime for us."

The dog obediently followed her into the bedroom. Natalie shut the door against the murmur of Andrew's and Ruth's voices, immediately kicked off her high heels, and sat down at her vanity table. She looked awful, hollow-eyed and pale-skinned. She removed her earrings and wiped off her lipstick. Tonight she wouldn't worry about dousing her face in her usual expensive cleansing cream she'd let a pushy saleslady at cosmetic counter tell her she couldn't live without. Tonight a bit of equally expensive moisturizer would do. What had she been thinking when she bought this overpriced stuff? Kenny. She'd been thinking of looking like an eternal twenty-one-year-old for Kenny.

Disgusted with herself, she stood quickly and slid out of the unflattering black dress. She was unfastening her bra when suddenly Blaine trotted to the tapestry-covered bench beneath the window and jumped up. "No, no, Blaine," Natalie said. "Dog nails aren't good for the fabric."

Blaine ignored her. She nosed apart the curtains and stared intently for nearly ten seconds, then let out a low rumble.

Natalie went still for a moment, watching the black hair along Blaine 's backbone rise and her stance stiffen. Someone was out there.

Without thinking, Natalie swiftly covered herself with her silk kimono, not from a sense of modesty but from fear, as if the delicate cloth could protect her. She turned off the overhead light and crept near the window. She peeked through the crack in the curtains Blaine had made and saw- Nothing.

She squinted into the night. The carriage-style light mounted on a pole near the side of the house threw dim illumination over the rock garden Andrew had built for Kira thirty years ago. A few brave Grecian windflowers, crocuses, and grape hyacinths stood against the cool darkness. Near the rock garden a weeping willow tree.

The weeping willow tree. Had she caught a hint of movement? Blaine rumbled again, leaning forward until her nose pressed against the gla.s.s. Natalie's heart beat harder. Possibly the dog had seen an animal, although if it were a small animal it would have to be climbing on the tree to equal the height at which she'd noticed movement. Besides, she'd seen Blaine spot a squirrel on a branch yesterday. The dog had looked interested but not especially excited. Natalie did not think the sight of an animal had caused Blaine 's raised hackles and stiff legs.

Her breath suspended, Natalie watched. She had inherited her father's sharp vision, better than 20/20. If anything-or anyone-was out there, she would see.

And there it was.

The glow of a cigarette tip. A lazy arc up, the brightening of the lighted ashes as someone inhaled, a lazy arc down. The watcher was calm and deliberate. How long had he been out there? What did he want?

Natalie jerked away from the window, startling Blaine who let out a sharp, loud bark. The yellow end of the cigarette shot away from the tree. Natalie rushed to the phone extension on her nightstand, called police headquarters, and reported the watcher. A slightly patronizing deputy told her not to worry as long as no one was trying to break into the house. "Is Sheriff Meredith in?" she asked.

"No ma'am, but we wouldn't need to bother the sheriff for some teenager trying to sneak a peek at a pretty lady undressing."

Anger flashed through Natalie. "Is Ted Hysell on duty?"

"Now, miss-"

"Is he on duty?" she demanded.

"He's not on duty, but he just stopped in-"

"Let me speak to him."

"It's not necessary-"

"Put him on the phone!" d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n, d.a.m.n! Precious time was slipping by. "Tell him it's Natalie St. John."

The deputy let out a furious sigh and yelled, "Hey, Hysell, some hysterical woman named St. John wants you!'"

In seconds Ted Hysell asked, "Natalie? What's wrong?" She told him about the watcher with as few words as possible. "Be right there," he said and hung up.

Natalie clutched the kimono around her and rushed into the living room. Her father and Ruth had left. She ran to the front door to make sure it was locked, then went to her bedroom and pulled on a pair of jeans, a sweatshirt, and Reeboks.

Once dressed, she walked back to the living room and turned on every lamp, then sat down on the Boston rocker. Blaine sat beside her, frequently looking up at her face for signs of anxiety. Natalie had never been afraid in this house. Unhappy. Angry. Bored. Never frightened. But three people had been savagely murdered in Port Ariel during the past week. Three people who were children of people linked to Eugene Farley, just like her own father was. And now someone stood in the dark and watched this house.

She rocked faster. Where was Ted? Had he only been humoring her? Had he and the other deputy laughed over her panic as soon as he'd hung up? Maybe she should call Nick Meredith. Yes, that's what she should have done in the first place.