I love Eve. She'd jump into the ocean to save me. I knew, because she'd done that when we were five.

I patted the loaded Element in the showroom. "I want this one. It's cinnamon. Isn't it beautiful? The way its color flows from light to dark reminds me of a shiny bolt of sateen that changes color depending on how you move it in the light. See how the color graduates from brown to a dark antique bronze."

"Get real. That's the lighting in the showroom. You need me, Cutler, so go look at a brochure or something while I talk money."

I felt as if I should salute, but I wouldn't mock the hand that saved me a buck. Besides, I was used to premium Big Apple prices. Things were different in Connecticut, and Eve was certainly making it easy. No zip, no fuss.

I read a history of the Goodwin dealerships on the wall while I waited. This was the second of two locations. The first, in Groton, had been started a century before. This one was practically a new baby at nearly thirty years.

Later, while I perused the brochures, I spotted Councilman McDowell behind a desk. Our eyes met, so I had no choice but to say h.e.l.lo. "Councilman."

"Welcome back to Mystick Falls, Ms. Cutler."

"You know who I am?"

"From the picture in my wife's column that I get force-fed to me at breakfast."

Right. Lolique, the Entertainment Tonight of Mystick Falls. Surprise; the publicity hound made me smile. "I didn't know you worked here."

He stood as I approached. "It's worse than that. I own the place." He indicated the chair across from his desk.

I shook my head and remained standing. "Guess you're the in-law who has to keep the portrait of the Goodwin daughter front and center so her cousin won't inherit."

His expression darkened like a thundercloud. Talk about black looks. "Said cousin once spent months on the psych ward and would run this place into the ground if given half a chance."

I stepped back from Councilman McNasty. "I didn't mean to broach a touchy subject."

He masked his expression like a good little politician. "The Goodwin daughter is my dead wife."

Remove foot from mouth. Proceed carefully. "Forgive me. I had no idea."

He nodded to someone across the room. "Your friend's looking for you. Ms. Cutler," he added, as I turned to go, "I'm glad your building escaped the fire."

Unexpected nicety. "Thank you. I am, too."

As I completed the paperwork for the car, I thought I did see our salesman's eyes fill. Eve had used math and logic to shoot down every deal, forcing him to cut his own profit to make the sale. She could make car salesmen cry.

"That was an awesome deal, Meyers. I owe you."

"You sure do. It's root beer by the way."

I gave her a blank look as we got in her car.

"The paint job on your Element; it's root beer."

"b.u.mmer," I said. "Cinnamon's an earth element that inspires wealth. Root beer probably inspires ice cream floats." I faced her. "I hope the robbery and fire weren't signs, though moving in today seemed to turn my luck. An honest to grand opening almost seems possible."

"Forget the opening and tell me about these earth elements and signs. Are you playing witch with Fiona?"

"Don't pop a st.i.tch. It's just a little folklore, which hasn't done me any good." I sighed and bit my lip. "You know, there's something about Goodwin's that bothers me, but I can't figure out what it is."

Twenty-six.

To be carried by shoes, winged by them. To wear dreams on one's feet is to begin to give reality to one's dreams.

-ROGER VIVIER.

As I got ready for my welcome-home party, Sampson's conglomerate buyer called, and I hoped to get the details I'd been waiting for. By the time we finished talking money, he told me something about Broderick Sampson that I was so happy to learn, I let down my guard and admitted-maybe too soon for more information-that I'd decided not to sell.

The buyer about cried. I, on the other hand, held another puzzle piece. It didn't answer specifics about Sampson's death, but it might help me clear Tunney of the motive people were so willing to pin on him.

I still needed to solve the puzzle of the bones and find out who killed Sampson, so I intended to question everyone tonight. Was it gauche, I wondered, to use one's own coming-home party for unabashed yet clandestine sleuthing? No one would call me on it, except maybe for Werner, but he wouldn't show, not after today.

I chose squashed-heel Mary Janes upholstered in bold pink-on-black chintz, a cheeky shoe by Bennis/Edwards, and paired them with a sixties pink Betsey Johnson minidress, its long sleeves, shirred with elastic in three places, ending with a wrist-flare, an at-home party dress.

The muggy air curled my hair, giving it a bouncy life of its own, so I left it down. After so much time in Eve's convertible, the sun had pulled out the hint of paprika that I liked because it reminded me of my mother.

Cars arrived while I dressed, and I couldn't wait to go down. Chakra hurried me along with her meows.

The Sweets were waiting at the bottom of the back stairs, the ones closest to my bedroom.

"I'm so glad you're here," I said as I hugged them. "I've been dying to invite you to my grand opening ball on Halloween night."

Chakra jumped into my arms to be dutifully petted by them.

As I related details, the younger Sweet's expression soured. "I'm too old for that nonsense," Ethel said.

"Well, I'm not," Dolly, the centenarian, countered. "I'll wear Tracy Lord's wedding dress from The Philadelphia Story." She didn't need to say she was more than ready to see Dante again, but I noticed a new twinkle in her eyes.

I took the ladies, one on each arm, and walked them to a sofa. "Can you do me a favor, starting tonight?" I whispered. "Pay close attention to any gossip about Suzanne Sampson and anybody named Isobel."

Dolly trembled in excitement as she agreed, while Ethel shook her head at us. I got them each a plate from the buffet before I went to meet the rest of my guests.

"Aunt Fiona," I said. "Thank you, again, for today. I already thanked Dad, but I know you must have worked hard coordinating."

"Sherry and Justin stayed in the apartment above my garage and handed out boxes to move. That's why I knew when they arrived that they had the last of it. Frankly," Aunt Fiona added, "it's given your father and I something to talk about."

"Are you going to invite him to the Circle of Spirit ball?"

"Invite Harry to a witch ball? I'd rather chew gla.s.s."

"I'll invite him, though I might not mention the Circle of Spirit. It's my grand opening, and he's my business partner, of sorts, so he won't say no to me. He might even dance with you."

"Don't bet on it."

"Whatever." I shrugged, but knew how to handle my dad.

I mingled and talked, filled with angst over Suzanne cheating on Tunney. Even my sister-in-law, Tricia, and my six-month-old niece, Kelsey, were here to welcome me home.

Kelsey replaced me as Chakra's new favorite person, so wherever the baby went after that, so did Chakra.

After dinner, Dad asked me to cut the cake. Cameras flashed and everyone called for a speech.

I stood on a chair in the keeping room to be seen from other rooms. "I hope I've thanked you personally," I said, "but if I haven't, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Not only for moving me in but for the clothes you left at my door. I have vintage treasures that will sell. If you see any that you donated for sale, tell me, so I can give you a discount on your first purchase."

I cleared my throat. "Among the donations, however-and I think you know this-are some items not quite designer vintage."

Several people chuckled.

"Not to worry. I'm going to make them work like magic, anyway. Just not Vintage Magic. I'll use them to advertise the shop, so everything you've given me is made of gold, like your hearts."

"How can you advertise with nonvintage?" Tunney, a late arrival, asked.

"Tunney! So glad to see you." I blew him a kiss, then I noticed Suzanne beside him, and beside her, Werner.

Sc.r.a.p. I couldn't ignore Werner after sending Tunney a kiss, but we had a whole different relationship. "Detective," I said. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it!"

Kinky retro, I saw his rare smile. Oh! I got a flashback: Werner laughing in the upstairs hall, me in his arms. "Can somebody open a door? It's hot in here."

"What are you going to do with the non-designer vintage?" Aunt Fiona asked, repeating Tunney's question.

"I'm having a scarecrow contest, and you're all invited to enter. The day after tomorrow, I'll have a table of freebie clothes to dress your scarecrows."

Light chatter broke out.

"Think theme. You have days to put Mr. or Mrs. Scarecrow together. Judging will take place Sunday at two. Set up your scarecrows from nine to noon, and use the crossed wooden stands that you use on Christmas trees to hold them up. No pole holes in my new parking lot."

Familiar laughter.

"Hang around or come back and look at everyone's scarecrows between twelve and two, have refreshments, stay for the judging, let the tourists enjoy them for the rest of the day, then pick yours up around dusk for your front yard. I'll publicize the event and the shop."

"You're a smart girl, Miss Mad," Tunney said.

I saluted. "First prize, second prize, third prize"-I counted on my fingers-"are certificates to my shop. Three hundred, two hundred, and one hundred dollars."

A cheer went up.

"So the old golf shirt with the bleach stain, the dress with blueberry jam are going to help me advertise."

I could not look at Werner as people applauded. Too reminiscent of the police station fiasco.

"Who are the judges?" Sherry asked.

"That's a secret, or they'll gain twenty pounds from eating your bribery. You're the best. I am, in fact, supremely happy to be home among you, again. Thank you."

I stepped down and the room buzzed. I went to Tunney as he introduced Werner to Suzanne Sampson.

Werner's stance became rigid as he greeted her, then he turned to me. "I donated the bleached golf shirt."

A joke after today? I never figured Werner for a good sport. "I'll make good use of it."

Tunney nodded. "I wore the dress with the blueberry stain to my senior prom."

Suzanne and I chuckled on cue.

Werner didn't. He watched the two uniformed policemen headed our way.

Twenty-seven.

I'm not just selling clothes. I'm offering a world, a philosophy of life.

-RALPH LAUREN Werner rerouted the officers to the front door as if they shouldn't be there. And well they shouldn't. I'd rather not have my coming-home party ruined, thank you very much. If all our parties ended in some kind of police matter, as my sister's engagement party had, we'd get paranoid and stop partying.

As I released a breath because Werner opened the door to go, he stood aside for more guests to enter.

"Alex! Nick!" I shouted, and Tricia and I ran.

Nick hauled me up and into his arms, my feet not touching the floor. I'd never felt such elation. I hadn't realized I'd missed him so much. Lost in l.u.s.t, n.o.body else existed. Nick walked us into an empty back den, pulled me close, hands on my bottom, and pinned me to the wall. I laughed and wrapped my legs around him.

"I've lived for that laugh," he said with a c.o.c.ky grin. He was safe. He and Alex were safe.

He gave me a welcome-home kiss to die for, all tongue and no breath. And I welcomed him home the same way.

"Ah, ladybug, if we're not on-again, I'm in a lot of trouble, here."

I didn't have a chance to answer because Tunney shouted my name, and Nick swore beneath his breath.

When we got to Tunney, Werner was urging him and Suzanne outside.

Chakra jumped in my arms while I gave Nick an abbreviated explanation, and Nick came outside with me.

Werner stood by a squad car. "I'm sorry about your party. I waited until we got outside."

"You do have probable cause?" Nick asked.

"This is not an FBI matter."