Tony heard the pop of what he thought might be a gun, drowned out by shrieks as one of the figures fell to the rocks below. He couldn't tell which had gone over, but it looked like the one being attacked, and she was as good as dead. The tide was coming in, but the water wouldn't have been deep enough to break her fall.

Tony stopped in his tracks, gathering his wits. He had just witnessed a cold-blooded murder. He glanced at his watch, checking the time, and then ripped his cell phone out of the case attached to his belt, and called 911. He would never be able to get to the woman on the rocks, so he headed for the cliffs.

He sprinted away from the water, leaped onto the seawall and then ran back out to the cliff edge. It was some distance, and when he got to the spot where he'd seen the fighters, the long-haired woman was gone. He looked down the beach, but there was no sign of her. She'd had plenty of time to get away.

Tony paused to catch his breath and consider his options. He had almost certainly witnessed a murder, which meant he was no longer off duty. He was now an eyewitness.

"Helluva game." Bret finished off his beer and lined the empty cup up with the others on the table next to his recliner. He wanted another one, but he could feel the booze fuzzing his head. "Can you believe the Padres? They killed the Dodgers."

He grabbed the remote to turn off the TV and the TiVo box. His mother's silence made him glance over his shoulder to see what she was doing. She always preferred the sectional sofas in the third row, but Bret liked to be right up front where he couldn't miss anything.

Watching the Padres play was the only thing he and his mother still did together, but she'd flaked out on him tonight. She'd stretched out on the couch and fallen fast asleep, snoozing through the last hour of the game, though she would never admit to that.

"Mom? Are you all right? Did you like the game?"

"Great," Julia said, her voice husky. Her lids blinked open and she quickly sat up, aware that she'd been caught napping. "I must have closed my eyes for a minute," she said. "I'll make some coffee."

"Too much pinot?" Bret knew that would get a snarl and snap out of her. She didn't disappoint.

"Why do you say that? I only had those two glasses." She jerked her Padres jersey into place as she made her way up the long, shallow steps to the crescent bar.

"Then why are you making coffee at 10:00 p.m.?"

"I may stay up and do some work. I'm on the planning committee for the charity gala for the philharmonic again this year."

Yeah, right. He rose and scooped up the cups, proud of himself. There were only four. "How about that triple play by the Padres?" he said as he crossed the room to another wet bar, built into the far corner. Somewhere in those brushed chrome cabinets was a trash receptacle, although he always had trouble finding it.

"Great," she said, "great."

Suddenly his mother was inarticulate. The only word she could manage was great. He was pretty sure she hadn't even seen the play, but he was going to torture her with a few more questions, anyway.

"Of course, you saw that inside-the-park home run by Piazza in the seventh inning. It blew off the outfielder's mitt."

"Yes, I saw it. Do I look stupid to you?"

"Stupid isn't the word that comes to mind, actually. Piazza sat out the seventh. He twisted his ankle."

"You smart-ass..." Julia took a bag of coffee from the refrigerator and banged the door shut. "I don't know why I watch these games with you. I should have gone to bed like Alison." She was just getting started on a tirade when a thunderous noise stopped her. It sounded as if someone was trying to break down the front door. "What the hell is that?"

Bret's heart nearly slammed through his chest wall. The pounding was loud and insistent. Someone meant business. He left the empty cups on the counter and made a dash for the media room door.

"Bret, where are you going?"

"It's the front door," he called back to her, from out in the hallway. "You stay here. I'll get it."

"Alison, wake up!"

Marnie felt the bed shaking and she heard Alison's name being called, but she was groggy and slow to react. She rolled to her back and saw people looming over her, but she couldn't make out who they were through the heavy veil of sleep. It looked like Bret and Julia.

"What is it?" she said, wondering if she was dreaming.

Bret's face came to within a few inches of hers. "You have to get up and come downstairs, Alison. Tony Bogart is here. He wants to talk to you."

Alison. She was Alison. They were trying to wake her.

She sat up, still trying to clear her head. She didn't remember having taken a pill, but she'd had this same feeling in the past when she'd tried to wake herself before the effects wore off. Thick and hazy, as if she was walking through a snowstorm.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"It's ten-fifteen," Bret answered.

"In the morning?"

"At night," Julia interjected. "Alison, you have to come down with us. Someone's been murdered, and Tony is talking like he thinks you had something to do with it."

"Murdered?" Marnie looked at them, confused. Her vision cleared instantly. She could see Julia's shock and concern. Bret was pale and still, as if he knew something Alison didn't-and feared the worst.

"Who was murdered?" Marnie asked.

Bret glanced at Julia, but neither of them spoke. That's when Marnie realized it must be someone she knew, someone she cared about.

"Not Andrew?" she said.

26.

Alone in the Fairmonts' living room, Tony took full advantage of the chance to have a look around. It was too dark to appreciate the view, but it had to be spectacular-and so was what he'd seen of the house. He'd never been formally invited inside the fabulous Sea Clouds. He'd been Alison's dirty little secret when they were dating. She hadn't minded amusing herself in his sordid world, and being treated like a goddess, but he hadn't been allowed near hers. She probably thought he would soil the furniture.

He almost laughed. She'd been right about that.

There were family pictures on the baby grand, all of them of the perfect family, living the perfect life, beautiful people without a care in the world. The world where he didn't belong, even now. He quelled pangs of jealousy, not for Alison, but for the charmed life she lived-and took totally for granted.

She'd been right about him soiling the furniture. It was going to get good and dirty.

Moments later, as the three Fairmonts filed into their living room, he was sitting on one of the white silk couches, innocently leafing through a coffee table book. But as he rose to acknowledge them, the petty jealousies turned into something else. The Fairmonts looked confused, frightened and defensive-and he was none of those things. Suddenly this was business. He was their equal, and more. He might be their executioner.

He zoomed in on Alison, his investigative brain operating like a camera lens. She was wearing the same outfit she'd worn on the boat that morning, navy shorts, a white polo shirt and deck shoes, but she looked disheveled and disoriented. The navy cardigan was missing, and her clothes were wrinkled and off-kilter.

Interesting. Alison was never wrinkled and off-kilter. And even more interesting, she was holding Julia's hand. Or possibly Julia was holding hers. Either way, mother and daughter had never been close. This was something new.

Tony pulled out his badge and made sure they saw it. He had no authority to investigate this case, but the Fairmonts didn't know that. Only sophisticated white-collar criminals and seasoned crooks knew to say nothing and ask for a lawyer. When most people saw a badge, they talked, and he was counting on that tonight.

He'd just left the local police on the cliffs after telling them everything he'd seen, except the name of his prime suspect. They would figure that out soon enough. Meanwhile, he had a few questions for Alison and family. He almost smiled. This was going to be fun.

Alison stepped forward, and her heavy-lidded gaze slammed into his. She hated him. Good, he could feed off that. Anything but the indifference she'd shown him back in the days when he was a lovesick fool.

"Who was murdered?" she asked.

"LaDonna Jeffries. Someone shot her and pushed her off Satan's Teeth. She was dead before her body hit the rocks."

Tony watched Alison suck in a breath and whisper LaDonna's name. Pretty convincing, he allowed. You would almost have thought she gave a damn.

"I'm sorry if this is inconvenient," he said, using his guardian-of-the-public-safety tone, "but there a few questions I have to ask."

"Sure-" Bret's voice cracked on the word. "Anything we can do to help. LaDonna was a great girl. Why would anyone want to hurt her?"

"A great girl? How well did you know her?" Tony zeroed in on Bret, who actually knew LaDonna inside out.

"Not very well. I did know her, though. I guess you could say we were friends."

Tony enjoyed watching him squirm, as he imagined Alison might have squirmed when she'd been questioned about him years back. Other than that, he had no interest in the pretty younger brother.

"What about you, Alison?" Very casually, he turned his attention to her. "Were you and LaDonna friends?"

"We knew each other," she said.

He continued to focus on Alison, although it was difficult to avoid her ferret-eyed mother, who was still hanging on to her hand. "Do you mind telling me your whereabouts at eight forty-five this evening?"

"I was right here," she said. "I was probably asleep in my room by then."

"She was." Julia chimed in, moving in front of her daughter. "We were all home this evening, watching the Padres game. Alison didn't feel well, and she went up to her room to lie down."

"It would help if you'd let your daughter answer the questions," Tony suggested, again the excessively polite lawman. "How about you, Bret? Were you here, too?"

"All night. We get the games live through our cable service. Did you catch that triple play in the sixth?"

"Not a sports fan," Tony said. "I was out walking on the beach tonight."

He let that sink in, and then continued. "Nobody went out for any reason at any time?"

"No," Julia said, becoming more emphatic, "we were here the entire night. Bret just told you that."

He nodded. "You and Bret were watching the game, but Alison was all alone, right? Up in her room?"

"Actually, I went up to check on her about eight forty-five," Julia said. "She was sound asleep, so I didn't disturb her."

Tony didn't believe Julia for a second. Eight forty-five was exactly the time he'd asked Alison about. Julia was going to try and provide her daughter with an airtight alibi, Tony realized. That was unfortunate.

Bret stepped forward. "Are you here to charge one of us with something? What? Murdering LaDonna? That's crazy."

"That's up to the local police," Tony said. "I'm just trying to clear some things up."

"Why would Alison want to kill LaDonna?"

Bret had him there. Tony hadn't had time to come up with a motive for LaDonna's murder. But he wouldn't be much of a G-man if he let a little thing like that stop him.

"Are we done now?"

Julia asked the question, but Tony continued to study Alison. He was fascinated by how shaky she appeared. "Where's your husband tonight?" he asked.

She looked startled. "He's in Mexico on business."

"How did he get there? What airline?"

"I don't know. He didn't mention it."

He debated telling her that her husband hadn't flown out on any scheduled flight with a commercial airline based in San Diego. Nor had Tony found any record of a private chartered flight. He also debated telling her that her husband may have fucking deserted her, but that would set off alarms, and he wanted to get to Villard first. "When's he coming back?"

"Soon-I don't know. He was supposed to be back tonight."

"I'm going to want to talk to him."

Her eyes changed. It was weird, like fire burning through blue clouds. If he'd ever seen that before he didn't remember it.

"I'm sure you do," she said, "but unless you're here to charge me with something, he doesn't have to talk to you about anything-and neither do we."

Tony grinned. He couldn't help himself. She was kicking him out of the house the way she'd kicked him off the boat. He saw Julia coming for him, and knew he was about to be escorted out. He was far from done with these people, but he could save the rest of the fireworks for later. None of the suspects except Alison, but he didn't have to let them know that.

"There will be an investigation," he said, looking at all three of them. "You can count on that. No one is to leave town for any reason. You've heard the old expression, you can run but you can't hide. Believe it."

Julia reached for his arm as if she was going to forcibly escort the uncouth lawman from her home. Tony grabbed her by the wrist, clamping down hard enough to stop her in her tracks.

He loved the shock that rolled through her cosmetically enhanced features. Nothing equaled the thrill of power-not sex, not booze or drugs. The food chain had just upended itself, and this woman was nothing but a tasty morsel. He wondered how that felt to a person of her stature. Probably not much different than it felt to a peon like him. There were a few things that actually did level the playing field.

Birth, death, taxes-and this.

"I know where the door is," he said. "I'll show myself out."

Marnie stood out on the bedroom balcony with the cell phone pressed to her ear. She'd come out here hoping for better reception. She'd been trying ever since Bogart left to get through to Andrew, but he wasn't answering. His voice mail had kicked in the first few times she'd called, but the menu hadn't given her the option of leaving a message. Now she was getting an automated response telling her the person she was calling was unavailable. After that the message cut off and she was disconnected.

She flipped the phone shut, deeply frustrated.

Not being able to leave a message was almost as bad as not being able to talk to him. He wouldn't even know she'd been trying to reach him. She couldn't tell him about LaDonna or find out when he was coming back, and she was worried that something had happened to him.

About an hour ago, she'd pressed the panic button on the cell phone, trying to connect with the detective he'd hired, but no one had responded. She hadn't seen anything of Sanchez since that morning. Bret may have sent him away, and Marnie didn't even know if Sanchez was the detective.

She'd thought she was isolated in Oyster Bay, but this was worse. She felt cut off from everything and everyone. She couldn't reach Andrew, couldn't talk to the people around her. There was nowhere to turn for help, and she had no idea what was going on with the search for her grandmother, or if anyone was even searching.

She went back inside, tossed the phone on the bed and contemplated the liquor cart, wondering what she might take to slow down her madly racing mind.

Glenfiddich, Absolut, Bombay Sapphire, Casa Noble Blanco.