"I love you." He kissed her again, gently this time.

"I'm not a child you can distract," she finally answered when she could talk.

"I hope you don't think this is a distraction. I've never been more serious about anything in my life. I love you."

As she watched the expression on his face, Sarah's anger began to slowly fade. She did love him. Whatever else she'd lost in the last few days, she'd found Daniel. The light from the bedroom window caught the clean, straight line of his nose and the generous bottom lip. She could see the faint stubble of a beard, but it only gave him a rugged look, heightening the deep blueness of his eyes. He was so handsome, and so good.

"I take you very seriously," she answered.

He slowly released the grip on her arms, rubbing where he'd held her tightly. "I'll let you go if you promise not to take a swing at me."

She couldn't help but grin. "It depends."

He tightened his grip slightly. "Then I'll say this fast. Your mother made a mistake."

"And my father died because of it," Sarah answered. She wasn't angry anymore.

"That may or may not be true. I don't think it is. I think your father died because some ruthless, evil men preyed upon your mother and then turned their energy toward destroying him. Your father was a scapegoat, and I think I'm beginning to figure out who betrayed him."

"Who?" The last remnants of Sarah's self-pity fled. "Who?"

Daniel pulled her up to a sitting position so they could face each other. "Chef Andr6, for one."

"How?" Sarah didn't believe what he was saying.

Daniel quickly related what Mora had told him. "Don't you see? There was a lot more money. The gang thought they were really buying your father off. Not just Mora or her wifely influence-they thought they'd paid him to leave them alone. Then when he started investigating Betty Jean Corley's death, zealously investigating, they thought he'd double-crossed them. And -"

"They set him up."

"They paid off Graham Estis."

"And G.o.d knows who else."

"Right."

"Very possibly, Agent Jenkins."

Daniel took a breath. "That's a distinct possibility. Jenkins pursued your father relentlessly.

He might have been paid to do it."

"And Gottard?"

"There is a chance that somehow they've gotten to him. This time, I was the sacrificial lamb." His face reflected chagrin, sorrow, and a bitter acceptance. "I was perfect. The renegade. The guy they could trust to break the rules to get to the truth. That's me. All they had to do was wind me up and set me in motion and I did all the rest, including put my friend in danger and then get framed for his murder."

"But they haven't charged you yet," Sarah noted.

"That's the beauty of it. If I'm charged, they'd have to take me into custody. But they need me to be here with you, to lead you into the trap they've set to snare you."

"Why?" Sarah asked again. That was the same old question that applied to everything that was happening to them. "Why? This was all years ago."

"That's what I don't know, but I'm beginning to know where to look to find an answer."

"And where is that?" Sarah could feel the excitement radiating from him. He was on the trail. She could feel it.

"Think about it. Every event you've catered recently was Southern."

"But that's not unusual," Sarah interrupted. "I cater Southern events almost exclusively. That's my hook, my forte."

"I know, but at every recent event, except that birthday party for the Georgia senator, there have been very powerful people. Businessmen, legislators, congressmen. Movers and shakers. And let me point out that the child's party was the first thing you've catered where no one was poisoned-or nearly poisoned." He told her about the lab reports on the pork chops.

"You're right." Sarah saw it all begin to make sense. "Maybe at first they only wanted to use me to make a few folks sick."

"I think it was more than that. I think they intended to frame you for murder. By poisoning people. That way, they'd get rid of the roadblocks and also put you behind bars. It would be the perfect revenge."

"Who are these people?" Sarah asked, her voice small and worried.

"Your mother doesn't know. She had only a telephone contact."

"How are we going to find out?"

"We're going back to Washington."

"And?"

"A lot depends on Paul Gottard."

Sarah leaned forward and grasped Daniel's knee. "You aren't going to trust that man, are you?"

Daniel's grin was tight. "Absolutely not. I'm going to use him exactly the way he's used me. Now, let's book a flight home before we're accused of killing Graham Estis. It wouldn't surprise me to see that happen, since you haven't obliged by killing someone at one of your dinner parties." "No one has died, yet," Sarah said. "Thanks to Familiar

Chapter Eighteen.

Well, this is a little more my style. Sarah insisted on a seat for me, in a carrier, but at least I'm not stuffed into some bag with underwear and socks. And I'm relieved to be getting back to Washington. Magdelene is going to have a fit. I can only hope she hasn't reported my disappearance to Eleanor and Peter. They'll be worried sick.

All of these duties! How have I become so un-catlike that I'm worried about how humans feel? I must have caught this from Sarah. She's always worried about people. But thank goodness she and Mora made up. Now that was one heartwarming scene. It took ten years off Mora's age -she actually began to bloom. And then she ripped that upholstery off that old sofa and all that money flew around the room. Sarah told her to spend every dime of it and not to look back. An excellent suggestion. Now all we have to do on our end is resolve this mystery and make sure that everyone lives to see the money spent and justice done.

Chef Andre. That garlicky smell. It could easily be connected. Sarah scrubs her hands with lemon. But anyone who cooks or eats garlic a lot... I'm heading straight over to the White House as soon as we land. I want to speak to Socks. He can help with this, since I'm sure the great chef has prepared some specialties for the First Cat. Socks will be able to give me some pertinent details. Even if he isn't a 'Drained Observer, he is a cat. By definition, he's astute and observant. Oh, yes, Socks will be my ace in the hole.

As for now, I'm going to charm the attendant into a sample of that first-cla.s.s chow. It's not the best food I've ever tasted, but flying always gives me an appet.i.te. And besides, that little brunette has a million-dollar smile. Even if the cuisine ain't caviar, she is choice.

SARAH PACED the length of her shop behind the tightly drawn shades. The call from Chef Andre had been so unexpected, so bizarre, that every nerve in her body jangled. It was almost telepathic. And he'd sounded so worried and concerned, asking about Mora and Jean-Claude. If Daniel weren't hiding upstairs, listening to everything that happened, Sarah knew she'd be scared to death.

The tap on the gla.s.s was gentle, but it made Sarah jump. Peeking through the blinds, she saw the tall chef standing hunched against the cold. Heart pounding, she opened the door to him.

"Sarah!" He examined her. "Thank goodness, you're okay."

"Why wouldn't I be?" She tried not to sound hostile, but she couldn't help it. This man might have ruined her family. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Andre stared more closely. "This is a strange, strange night. First those cats. That Socks and a black friend of his. They almost drove me crazy in the kitchen. I was ready to call the president and demand that he retrieve that animal. But they left as abruptly as they came. Then Jean-Claude appeared." He rolled his eyes. "In such a state. That young man has not been right since he came back from the vineyards. He was asking many questions about the past, about his father's relationship with Lucinda. All water gone under the bridge. But he was also asking about you, little cabbage. The way he asked concerned me."

"Jean-Claude?" Sarah felt a pang.

"He said there was trouble at Lucinda's dinner party and no one had seen you since. Are you okay?"

"No." Sarah's hostility was wearing down. No matter how much she tried to believe that Andre had set up her mother, it didn't fit. She'd worked in his kitchen since she was a child. She knew for a fact that Andre had never benefited from a windfall sum of money. Like her, he'd earned everything. "I've been in Biloxi, Andre. Mora told me about the money."

"Ah, I tried to get her to tell you long ago. I'm glad she finally did." He looked around the room. "May we sit?"

"Sure." She motioned him back to the kitchen, knowing that Daniel would be ready to have a fit. He couldn't protect her as easily in the kitchen, but she didn't need protection from Andre. "I want you to tell me the whole story."

As soon as they were seated, Andre leaned forward. "Your mother's crime was in loving you and Cal too much. She was going to tell him that she'd inherited some cash. Take the pressure off him. I told her it was not a good idea. I warned her that men who paid for such things were not honorable." He shook his head. "She said it was nothing. Cal had no concerns with small games and parties, so the men were paying for nothing. And that was true. Cal never worried about the private games."

"What happened to the money, Andre"?"

"Mora picked it up."

Sarah reached across the table and took his hand. "Someone is trying to kill me and maybe Mom. She got ten thousand. There was more. A lot more. Maybe five hundred thousand."

Andre's face registered scorn. "Or so they said. I saw your mother take it out of the bar well. There was ten thousand. No more."

"Could anyone else have taken the rest of it?"

Andre's expression shifted to shock. "All of these years, and I never considered it." He nodded. "Yes, the money was there for several hours while the restaurant was closed. Someone could have gotten to it before her."

"Joshua Jenkins, maybe?"

Andre shook his head. "No. He did not arrive on the coast until months later. After Betty Jean was killed and Cal started putting the pressure on the organized gamblers to pack up and leave. Sarah, I know you think Joshua Jenkins ruined your life, but I do not believe he was a crook."

"I'm not so certain of that, Andre? Do you know who else might be involved?"

He shook his head. "No. I have no idea. I keep in touch with Mora. She was always kind to me. She and your father both. I have been worried about her and I called..." He smiled. "Today, in fact. But the connection was bad. The phone was picked up, but no one answered. I wanted to tell her that Jean-Claude had been asking about her, too. I thought it was strange that he didn't ask his father, or you. That young man has been such a bitter disappointment to Vincent. It is sad."

Sarah felt a chill trace down her spine. "Yes, it is."

"The past is a tangle, Sarah. Forgive the mistakes of those who love you. Mora was young and foolish, but she was not bad." Andre's smile was even sadder. "I was in love with her. Maybe Vincent was, too. She was so much in love with your father that she never even suspected my feelings for her. Even now, she doesn't understand the reason I call and talk to her each week is because I care for her. She thinks it is because I am so fond of you."

"Tell her, Andre."' Sarah squeezed his arm. "Tell her before any more time is lost."

"WE'RE IN A TON of trouble now," Sarah said as she peered behind her bedroom curtain to check the street below the shop. After Andre's visit, she and Daniel had talked for two hours. They had no suspects and no plan for resolving the mess they were in. The only good news of the evening was Familiar's return from one of his unexplained jaunts. As glad as she was to see the cat, she was ready to throttle him. He constantly circled her legs, meowing and biting her shins. Then he'd run to the steps as if he wanted her to follow him down the stairs. To the kitchen, no doubt. For some food. No matter how bad things were, Familiar always had a healthy appet.i.te.

"Let's go, buddy." Daniel scooped the cat into his arms when he saw Sarah give him a murderous look. "Sarah's not in the mood to play kitty games."

"Meow!" Familiar leapt from his arms and ran down the stairs, stopping only long enough to make certain Daniel was following.

"Give him some milk and some of the broiled snapper," Sarah called after them, feeling a little guilty that she had ignored Familiar's appet.i.te. The cat wasn't starving, though, and she was watching the street for the first signs that the FBI or the bad guys might show up and begin blasting at them.

Daniel didn't have time to give Familiar anything. As soon as he snapped the kitchen light on, Familiar had jumped on the pedal that opened the refrigerator door. He was rummaging around in the interior, his black tail whipping back and forth as he inspected foil-covered dishes and plastic bags.

"Your adopted mom is not going to like that sight," Daniel said. "If her career as a caterer weren't already ruined, the sight of you in her refrigerator would put her out of business."

"Meow!" Familiar tossed a plastic bag of chicken out onto the floor.

"Hey." Daniel started to make a grab for the cat, but a bowl of something very heavy hit his toe.

"Hey, cat!"

"What is it?" Sarah heard the commotion and started down the stairs to check it out. She arrived just in time to see Familiar throwing two bags of flour out onto the floor with complete abandon. He was like a child having a terrible temper tantrum.

"Familiar!" She hurried toward him with the intention of pulling him out of the refrigerator. Daniel was too busy trying to catch the numerous bags and containers Familiar was tossing out.

"Hey, you!" She grabbed him just as he sank his claws into a bag of meat. When she tugged him out, the cat dragged the meat with him.

"Pork chops?" Sarah tried to grab the bag, but Familiar darted away, hauling the two-pound plastic sack with him. "Instead of snapper, you want raw pork chops?" She couldn't believe it.

Daniel put the last container back in the refrigerator and turned to watch Familiar scamper across the room with his booty.

"Looks like he wants pork chops," he said. Something about the situation did seem odd.

When he saw that neither Sarah nor Daniel was going to take the meat away, Familiar dropped it on the floor, made a few growling noises at it, and then lay on his side.

"What in the h.e.l.l?" Daniel watched him with amazement.

Opening his eyes, Familiar stared at them. After a full minute, he returned to the sack of meat, made growling noises and then rolled onto his back, his lags straight in the air.

"Roll over and play dead," Daniel said. He looked at Sarah.

Understanding dawned on them simultaneously. "Pork chops!" They spoke in unison and Familiar sat up and began the dignified process of licking his fur.

"Lucinda Watts!" Sarah was beside herself. "We forgot all about her, and it was her baby sister who was killed. She would have a motive for all of this. She was at every party, too. And that dinner party, in her own home!"

"She had a reason to want to destroy your father, and she was making her contacts with organized crime even then." Daniel paced the kitchen.

"She told me that dinner party I catered was very important to her. Very important. She said it could mean that she'd retire in style." Sarah searched her memory but drew a blank until it struck her. "How did a striptease artist get enough money to set herself up in Washington?"

"Her marriages-"

"Or five hundred thousand dollars. That would do it."

Daniel slapped his forehead. "I can't believe it. Right under our noses."

"How can we find out?"