"Why were you upset?"

"I didn't say I was."

He gazed at her a moment, eyebrows drawn together. "You have an a.s.sistant to take care of such things,

don't you? Why not have him call her?"

"I am-was-particularly fond of Lisette. Her pieces were some of the best in the show. My opinion only, of course."

"Did you call any of your other subjects with personal...invitations?"

She couldn't hide the truth from him, she realized. He would find out. All he had to do was check Ian's patient files, cross reference them with Doll Parts, then check her phone records.

And he would. She hadn't any doubt of that.

"Yes. Sharon Smith and Gretchen Cole."

"Were they also patients of Ian's?"

"What are you getting at, Mac?" Stacy demanded.

He ignored her. "Were they?"

"Yes! And they're alive and well, if you're worried. Both attended the opening last night."

Mac's gaze slid to Stacy. Jane thought she saw apology in his. Regret.

A moment later she knew for what.

"I'd like to propose another scenario to you, Mrs. Westbrook," he said. "You called Lisette because you

were worried about her. Because you wanted to make certain she was alive."

"No! That's preposterous!"

"Because you suspected your husband was having an affair with her. Just as you had learned he was with

Ele Vanmeer."

"No!"

"You were afraid he'd killed her, too-"

"That's enough, Mac," Stacy said, stepping between them. "You've crossed a line."

"Whose line, Stacy? Yours?"

"The line of decency."

He hesitated, then backed off. "I'd like to speak with your a.s.sistant. Ted's his name, right?"

"Ted Jackman." She glanced at Stacy, then looked back at the detectives. "He may be in today, though

since it's Sat.u.r.day..."

"Could you check?"

She agreed and led the men to her studio. Ted was in, sitting at the computer terminal.

He saw her and jumped to his feet, expression concerned. "Jane, are you all right? I was so-"

He caught sight of the detectives and stiffened.

"Ted Jackman?" Mac asked. When he nodded in response, Mac went on. "We need to ask you a few

questions."

Ted eyed them suspiciously. "About last night?"

"Last night?"

"The flowers that were...delivered to..."

His words trailed off. Mac stepped in. "No. We're here about one of Jane's subjects. Lisette Gregory."

"Lisette?" he looked at Jane, obviously surprised.

"She was murdered," Jane said, voice shaking.

Ted went white. "What? When?"

"Nearly a week ago," Mac said. "Her neck was broken."

"My G.o.d. Who-"

"How much interaction did you have with Ms. Gregory?"

"Me?" Ted looked taken aback. "Almost none. I help Jane with the videotaping. I schedule appointments

for the sittings. Do prep work. Stuff like that."

"She talk to you at all about a boyfriend? Problems she might be having with friends, co-workers? Any concerns at all?"

"No. She hardly spoke to me."

"Really? Why not?"

Ted glanced at Jane, then back at the detectives. He straightened. "She didn't like me much. None of

Jane's subjects do."

"And why's that?" Mac asked.

"Ask them."

"I can't ask Lisette, now can I? Why didn't she like you much?"

Ted held out his heavily tattooed arms. "Take a look. Make a guess."

"I don't play guessing games, Mr. Jackman."

"Let's just say I'm a tad unconventional for the kind of woman Jane interviews."

"The kind of woman Jane interviews. What does that mean?"

"They're all about the physical. And the material."

Mac narrowed his eyes. "A lot of women are like that, right? Isn't that what you've found?"

"Not Jane." He shifted, as if uncomfortable. "Jane sees people for who they are. On the inside. She

doesn't judge by what someone has. Or doesn't have."

"She's almost a saint," Liberman cracked.

Jane laid a hand rea.s.suringly on Ted's arm. The muscles beneath her hand were rock hard; he trembled

at her touch. The detectives were baiting him, Jane realized. Why? She glanced at Stacy. And why didn't

her sister stop him?

"Ted's interaction with my subjects is minimal," Jane murmured. "Just as he said. If that's all, I'm not feeling particularly well this morning and I think you should go."

Stacy stepped forward, glancing at her watch. "If this party's over, I'm going to take off. Mac?"

He flipped his notebook closed, expression irritated. "I'll be in touch."

Stacy looked at her. "You going to be okay?"

Jane nodded. "Call me later?"

She said she would and escorted her fellow police officers out. Jane watched them go, then turned to