Daniel opened the phone book, dialed a number, then thought better and replaced the receiver. "I can't do this over the phone. I have to go in person." He drew his car keys out of his pocket.

"Who?" Sarah couldn't think of a soul, except her mother, who would voluntarily help them.

"Joshua Jenkins. It's the perfect opportunity to see if he's in this, too. We can set him up with what we know, see his reaction."

"Right now?" Sarah thought of the black night and the many people who might be watching her and Daniel. She didn't want him to leave. Mora was hiding with some old friends in Arkansas, and she wanted to make certain that Daniel was safe, too.

"It's perfect. He won't be expecting me."

"Familiar and I are coming, too. He might try to kill you if he feels threatened."

"No." Daniel shook his head. "Mora is supposed to call in half an hour, and if you don't answer, she'll die of worry. Stay here, but remember the phone lines aren't secure. I'll be back."

"Okay." Sarah didn't like it, but there was nothing she could do. "Go on before it gets any later, and hurry back." She swallowed the sudden spurt of fear that threatened to choke her. To hide her distress, she rushed into his arms and kissed him.

"Don't let anyone inside," Daniel cautioned her. "No one. Not even Santa Claus."

She nodded, unable to talk. When he furtively hurried out the front door, she locked every lock after him. Picking a wary Familiar up in her arms, she ran up the stairs and into her bedroom, locking that door, too. It wouldn't take Daniel all that long to run the errand. Everything was going to be fine, now that they knew where to look.

She'd just settled onto the bed with a book in one hand and the remote control for the television in another when she heard someone at the front door.

Fear tightened every muscle to the point that she felt paralyzed. Then she heard the familiar rap on the door. Two longs, two shorts, three shorts. She ran down the stairs in her socks, her face bursting with a smile.

"Uncle Vince!" She threw the door open and he captured her in his arms.

"I've been so worried about you since Lucinda's event. I've spoken with her, and she's no longer angry with you, cherie."

Sarah tugged him inside, cast a quick look up and down the street, and then locked the door.

"h.o.a.rding gold here in the shop?" Vincent asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. I wish it were that simple." Sarah grabbed Vincent's hand. "Come in. I have a lot of things to tell you." "Excellent. We haven't had much chance to talk lately and I've been concerned about you.

By the way, Jean-Claude said he spoke with you."

Sarah sensed something in Vincent's tone. "Is something wrong with Jean-Claude?"

Vincent smiled, but it was an expression of sadness. "He is a disappointment, cherie. The two of you..."

"I'm sorry, I just don't feel that way about Jean-Claude." Sarah felt a pang for her uncle's dreams.

"He thought he could save you by marriage. You know he went to Idlewild to protect you. He told me about sitting on the porch and spraying your... friend with pepper." Vincent laughed, but it was harsh. "He thought you were in danger. That you would be hurt in my home. He is a foolish boy who has grown to be a foolish man."

"He thought Daniel was going to hurt me." She shook her head. "I'm sorry that happened."

Vincent patted her shoulder. "I brought a bottle of the very finest French wine for us to share," Vincent said, producing it from the pocket of his coat.

"Wonderful." Sarah led the way into the kitchen and deftly uncorked the bottle, all the while talking about her trip to Biloxi.

"I thought I saw Daniel leaving. Where has he gone?"

"He's running an errand." Sarah handed her uncle a gla.s.s of wine and took a sip of her own. "Uncle Vince, do you know anything about Lucinda Watts and how she became so wealthy?" If anyone knew, Vincent Minton would. She should have thought of him before Daniel left for Joshua Jenkins's house.

"Over the years I've advised Lucinda on some real estate." He smiled. "She's made good investments. In fact, she'd hoped to become a limited partner in one of my businesses. I've always admired Lucinda for her business ac.u.men." His smile was brittle. "She has more.. .sense than Jean-Claude will ever have."

Sensing her uncle's disappointment in his son, Sarah sipped her wine again. "Delicious." She licked her bottom lip. "Did you know Luanda's baby sister was murdered years ago?"

"Betty Jean." Vincent swirled the wine in his gla.s.s. "That was a long time ago. Lucinda had changed her name by then. She and Betty Jean were.. .determined to make a new life for themselves. Lucinda made it, Betty Jean did not."

"You knew them both?"

"As did your father. It was hard to work the coast and not know those two. They were at every party, dancing, drinking, bringing good luck to the gamblers. Those were the days when there was money to be made.''

"And Lucinda did whatever she had to do to get a start."

Vincent picked up the bottle and refilled Sarah's gla.s.s. "She was shrewd and she worked hard. I admire that."

"Is she still ruthless? Ruthless enough to... kill?" Sarah couldn't help the shiver that pa.s.sed through her at the memory of Cody Pruett and Graham Estis. She drank the dark red wine that made her feel so warm. Two murders that she knew of in the last month. In the past, how many others were there? Was her own father's death a murder at Lucinda's hand?

"Why do you ask?"

"I think Lucinda may have stolen some money...."

Vincent smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "She did. Many times. From husbands, from politicians who were glad to exchange large sums of cash for photos and negatives. From anyone she could."

Sarah felt sure victory. She started to rise, but she found her legs unsteady. Surprised, she glanced at the wine. She'd only had a gla.s.s and a half. She'd downed it quite fast, but not fast enough to make her drunk.

"She suckered many men." His smile was cold. "But never me. Never."

She heard Vincent's words and stared at him, her errant legs forgotten as she saw his eyes. "You?" The word was slurred.

"Yes. Lucinda is rather disturbed with me at this moment, but the little scene that you so obligingly created at her dinner party gave me the perfect opportunity to cut her out of my partnership. In fact, your cooking has presented a number of opportunities for me to... eliminate would-be partners."

"My... food..." Sarah realized it was pointless for her to try to talk. She knocked the winegla.s.s off the table in one awkward gesture. Futilely, she looked at the clock. It was only an hour since Daniel had left. He'd never get back in time.

She swept the condiments off the table in front of her, but her arms and legs refused to do what she commanded. In the midst of the crash, Familiar leapt from the floor and knocked the portable telephone off the base. He slapped it several times until it skittered under the table, where he followed it.

"I hate cats." Vincent eyed the feline with contempt. With a suddenness that belied his age, he reached down to capture Familiar and was rewarded with a savage bite that pierced his thumbnail.

"You black devil!" Vincent threw a kick that missed the agile Familiar by at least eight inches, but his shin hit the edge of the table. Holding his hand and limping, he gave up on the cat. Instead, he grabbed Sarah's shoulder.

"Where is Mora? I've figured out how to get rid of you and that snooping FBI agent, but your mother is another difficulty. All these years, she's been too afraid to do or say anything. She was afraid someone would come after you. I had her thoroughly convinced that the evil men who ruined her life would kill her daughter. Now it's time I put the past to rest. Mora has started talking, and I don't think she'll ever stop."

Sarah could clearly hear everything that Vincent Minton said to her, but she could not speak or move with any accuracy. Whatever drug he'd given her had left her helpless.

"I'm going to kill you and arrange it so that your friend, Mr. Dubonet, looks guilty. This drug will wear off without a trace. The FBI has done an excellent job of setting him up as the murderer of that research a.n.a.lyst. Although that fool Gottard never believed Dubonet was guilty, he's left his man in a perfect trap. One I intend to exploit."

Vincent rose from the table and slowly poured his gla.s.s of wine into the sink. Unable to control her body, Sarah tried to lunge at him, but she only managed to fall across the table. Minton ignored her as he went to the wine rack and selected another bottle, quickly opened it and poured himself a gla.s.s. "Not as good as the vintage I brought, but also not drugged." He took a long sip.

"All of this was completely unnecessary, you understand. I did use you, or at least, your cooking, to facilitate a few business deals. But when you called and told me the FBI was investigating you, I knew I had inadvertently reopened the door to the past. You weren't your mother. I couldn't frighten you into silence."

"Mo.. .m!" Sarah floundered against the table. The worst fear she'd ever known made her feel as if her heart would burst.

"Your mother could have had anything in the world she wanted. I would have given it to her. But she wanted only your father. She was a fool to scorn me for your father. But it made me realize she would not have been an a.s.set to me, after all. And that d.a.m.n Jean-Claude is so much like her. Weak. Foolish. He despises me and everything I've worked to build.

"Five years ago I started to bring him into the business, my real business. I'd kept it from him because I recognized his weakness. When he saw how things worked, he ran away to Paris. And then he discovered last month that I'd stolen the money from Andre's restaurant and left Mora in a noose. He found out that I had arranged for his 'uncle' Cal to walk into a bullet and put an end to that b.a.s.t.a.r.d Jenkins and his probing. So he dashes home to marry you, to make sure that I never hurt you again. He would protect you with my name. Such a n.o.ble boy." He laughed.

Sarah tried to make a sound, but her throat was frozen.

"Believe me, Sarah, I don't relish the idea of killing you. You've actually forced me into this position. Just as Betty Jean did when she tried to blackmail me."

"Bett...y. ..Jean."

"She eavesdropped on a conversation I had with my a.s.sociates in New Orleans. We wanted a permanent structure, a place where we could spend weekends without interruption. I was the man who could put the deal together. Betty Jean heard my plans, and she tried to sell that information to Cal. Of course, we thought Cal was in our pocket, so we weren't worried, but Betty Jean had to be punished nonetheless."

Even through the paralysis of the drug Sarah felt a burning rage. This man who stood at her kitchen sink, sipping wine from her gla.s.s, was an imposter. She'd grown up believing he was the one man she could love and trust. The man who'd stepped in when her father died. The man who'd helped her with her education and her career. But it was all a lie. He'd done everything to control her, to keep her within his grasp. For his own purposes.

Though she could not run, or even walk, she felt Familiar beneath the table brushing against her leg. Fear for the cat darted through her. If Vincent saw him, he'd undoubtedly kill him. Unable to signal Familiar, she could only pray that he would remain beneath the table, out of sight.

"Where is that agent of yours?" Vincent downed the last of the wine and put the gla.s.s on the table. "Timing is all in a crime, you know." Vincent moved until he was directly in front of Sarah. "I'm expected at a c.o.c.ktail party in fifteen minutes. I need to take care of you and Dubonet, then meet my social obligations. I was thinking of a shooting, here in your kitchen. Sort of as if you were trying to kill Dubonet, and he killed you instead."

He went to the cabinet and set out a plate and flatware. He carefully rinsed his gla.s.s, wiped it and then set it down on the table before filling it from the drugged bottle.

"See, you intended to poison him. He discovered it, shot you, and then got himself arrested for murder. Not very original, but it will work with Gottard and the FBI. Believe me, I led that Jenkins around by the nose for years. All I had to do was whisper in his ear that Cal was dirty. Just a whisper and a hint, a false lead and the promise of dire evildoing, and a payment to the easily bought Deputy Estis to lie to the good FBI agent. Jenkins never did catch on to how much I was using him. Never. The trouble was, though, that he'd never leave. He wouldn't give it up. Not until Cal was dead."

Sarah tried to swallow, but she could feel the muscles of her throat beginning to tighten. Panic struck when she wondered if the drug he'd given her would slowly paralyze her throat and then her lungs. She'd suffocate to death.

"Well, I was hoping to have Dubonet here when I finished this. As I said, timing is all. But let me get started. I think the body should be found in the bedroom." Removing a pistol from his coat pocket, he placed it on the table and moved so that he could pick Sarah up in his arms. She tried to fight him, but her arms and legs were like leaden weights. She could barely lift them, much less strike him.

Just as he bent to lift her, a black streak flew across the room, landed on the table and skidded. Gun, plate, wine and winegla.s.s all toppled to the floor with a crash.

"I am going to kill that beast." Vincent stood. He looked around the floor for his gun. With a great dash, Familiar hit it again, pushing it up under the heavy commercial refrigerator.

Vincent aimed a hard kick at the cat but missed. "You black creature, you're going to pay." He got down on his knees and reached under the refrigerator, trying for the gun.

The back door burst open and Daniel rushed into the room. He didn't hesitate as he brought the toe of his shoe up into Vincent Minton's ribs, followed by an upward thrust of the knee into Minton's jaw and a hammer-handed blow to the base of his neck. Minton dropped to the floor in a heap.

There was the sound of the front door crashing in, and Paul Gottard and four FBI agents swarmed into the kitchen through the swinging door.

"Good work, Daniel," Gottard said, grinning. "Excellent. Now let's get Ms. Covington to a doctor."

"How?" Sarah forced the word out as she felt Daniel's arms encircle her. She was already beginning to feel stronger.

An agent stooped to pick up the telephone and return it to the base as Daniel talked. "When the phone was knocked off the hook, it automatically triggered the tap that the Bureau had put on your line. Gottard's men heard the call and reported it. One of the agents had followed me to Jenkins's house. Paul got the report, radioed his man... We came as quickly as we could." He tightened his hold on her. "The FBI not only heard everything Vincent Minton said to you, they got it on tape. He's going to prison for a long, long time."

It took tremendous willpower, but Sarah lifted her arms around Daniel's neck. "I love you," she whispered.

"You'd better get that young lady to the doctor," Gottard said, waiting for Daniel to get busy.

"Wait." Sarah felt her strength returning. She pressed against Daniel and felt his immediate response. "I think that Agent Dubonet has the exact medicine I need."

Gottard hesitated, then saw the look that Sarah and Daniel exchanged.

"Perhaps he does. I wouldn't ever want to underestimate Agent Dubonet again. Get Minton, and let's get out of here," he directed his men. In minutes, they were gone.

"Sarah?"

"Just hold me another minute, Daniel, and then I think I need to be carried upstairs." She smiled, face hidden against his neck.

''If you can't walk, maybe we should go to the hospital.'' "Oh, I think I can walk. I wanted to be carried." She lifted her head, revealing her widening smile. "You see, I'm saving myself for another form of physical exertion."

AGENT 009 reported to the First Cat with a case solved and his favorite chef cleared of all suspicions. Socks wanted me to show up for the ceremony when Chef Andre names Sarah as his primary a.s.sistant at the White House. Imagine, Andre had written down all of her catering engagements on his calendar to doc.u.ment her excellent work when he made his bid to hire her! He is, indeed, a good friend.

Too bad I had to decline the party, though. All of those shutterbugs are always following Socks around. With my luck, I'd get my mug in the newspaper and then Eleanor and Peter would cook my goose. They're still mad at me for frightening Magdelene with my "unexplained" disappearance. Hey, I was working a case. Does Sam Spade have to check in with his baby-sitter? Dashiel Hammett? How about James Bond? You can bet Sean Connery doesn't call home every day at five.

At any rate, I'm home now, toasting my toes on a red silk pillow in front of the fire with a bowl of my favorite sardines on the floor beside me. Ah, a cat's life. And I should mention that my beautiful Clotilde was suitably impressed with my courageous behavior and superior intelligence. I just have to keep a low profile to be sure none of this gets home to the dame and Dr. Doolittle. I guess that's the price of being a "secret" agent to the First Cat.

It was rough saying goodbye to Dolly, and I have to admit I'll miss that c.o.c.ky att.i.tude of Bureau Boy. We had some fun. But they knew all along I was never really their cat.

Socks, Clotilde and I are arranging a little wedding surprise for the happy couple-an adoption of the cutest little black kitten from the humane shelter. That's going to be one lucky little kitty.

And now for a nap. Secret agenting is a wearying business. Once I've rested for a few hours I might have to saunter into the kitchen and make Eleanor prepare something special for me. It's not that I'm not satisfied by sardines, it's just that humans have this awful need to be needed. So I oblige whenever I possibly can.

That's the thing to remember. "A man may toil from sun to sun, but a cat's work is never done."

end.