The organizer rubbed her temples. "All the stuffing will be judged without names or other identification. I know your recipes but Simon doesn't. Is that satisfactory?"

Everyone except Natasha nodded.

She smiled sweetly at the organizer and said, "You are aware that the contest is misnamed. Stuffing goes into something, like a bird. Dressing is baked separately."

Emma whined, "Who cares about that? No one stuffs a bird anymore. Stuffing and dressing are interchangeable these days. What's crucial is that Sophie breaks her date like Natasha said she should."

"Fine." I practically spat it. Even though I'd meant to do it anyway, it was irritating to have to do it on Natasha's demand. I could feel the fire burning in my face. Where did that devil Simon go?

Clyde, who'd been by Simon's side earlier, walked through the lobby. I jogged up to him and asked if he knew where his boss was.

Clyde a.s.sessed me with amus.e.m.e.nt. Did he think I intended to fawn over his boss like countless other women?

"They gave him a conference room so he could work during the contest. The George Washington Room, right down the hall."

It figured that a big shot like Simon wouldn't want to mingle with the rest of us all day. I made a quick pit stop in the ladies' room to catch my breath and regain my composure. Holding a wet paper towel against my flaming face I wondered why he had put me in this position.

I stormed down the hall to face Simon, rapped on the door, but didn't wait for permission to enter.

"Simon!" I charged into an empty room.

Almost empty.

SIX.

From Natasha Online : Salt isn't one size fits all anymore. Today's home kitchen should contain at least five different kinds of salt. Kosher for brining, coa.r.s.e grinder salt for the salt mill, fine French sea salt for cooking, marvelous fleur de sel for salt shakers, and sel gris, also known as gray salt, my personal favorite.

A scream caught in my throat as the implications sank in. I ran toward him to help him, stopped abruptly, and backed up, scanning the room. Whoever injured him was gone. I darted at him again, knelt next to him, and felt his neck for a pulse.

There was none-but my own blood hammered in my head.

The door behind me opened and I shrieked, antic.i.p.ating a bat-wielding killer.

Natasha's willowy shape filled the doorway. "Sophie. What have you done?"

I leapt to my feet. "I found him this way. He . . . he's dead."

Natasha pointed a well-manicured finger at me. "You killed him?" She swallowed hard and edged toward Simon's corpse. "You have to remain calm. I'm sure it must have been an accident. Don't worry. I'll stand by you. So will Mars."

"I didn't kill him!"

The muscles in Natasha's neck looked like taut rubber bands. She backed toward the door-fast. "I'm going to get Mars. He'll know what to do. You stay here and try to be calm." As she reached behind her for the handle, the door burst open.

Clyde stopped dead just inside the room. "What happened?" His normally calm demeanor dissolved. He dove at his boss and felt for a pulse. Natasha fled into the hallway. I could hear her shouting for Mars. I watched Clyde's face, hoping he'd find some sign of life that had eluded me. He rolled Simon onto his back and started CPR.

I felt my pockets for my cell phone. Rats. I'd left it in my work station. Running out of the room, I caught up to Natasha in the hallway.

"Do you have your cell? Call nine-one-one."

With her face as frozen as if she'd just had a BOTOX treatment, she stared at me for long seconds. "Yes, of course."

I ran back to the conference room to see if I could help.

The room was filling with hotel employees and contest partic.i.p.ants. Mars and his brother wedged in, as did my dad. So many people were crowding into the room, I couldn't see Simon. Finally I managed to break through the crowd and cross the small s.p.a.ce around Simon.

Clyde and a couple of guys from hotel security were still trying CPR. I backed away from the body to give them ample room, stepped on something hard, and lost my balance. Flailing my arms in a vain effort to break my fall, I landed, rather painfully, on top of the thing that tripped me. It was the stuffing trophy, a finely detailed turkey of heavy golden metal, the tail smeared with Simon's blood. Stunned, I threw it down and watched as it tumbled toward Simon until one of the security guys kicked it out of his way.

Like a sudden thunderbolt, Wolf stormed in and the atmosphere changed. He took over for the guy who'd been giving Simon heart compressions. While he worked, he growled, "Everyone out! Right now." The onlookers filtered out and I crossed the room to join them.

Wolf didn't raise his head or stop compressing but he said, "Everyone out except those with blood on their hands."

I looked at my fingers. A sticky red mess covered them.

"That means you, Sophie."

I stopped and looked down, shocked to realize that I had wiped Simon's blood on my pants. Even my shoes bore traces of red.

When the rescue squad arrived and took over tending Simon, Wolf seized my arm and propelled me to the service corridor behind the room. Thrusting my back to the wall, he a.s.sumed his police stance, feet apart, fists on his hips.

"Two murders in two days and only one constant-you."

"I had nothing to do with either of them."

"Give it up, Sophie. Your photograph wasn't in Otis's truck by accident. There's no way you're not tied to these murders. This doesn't look good for you."

"Oh, please." I said lightly. "I barely knew Simon."

"Rumor had it you knew him so well you were about to be disqualified."

"You're going to rely on a rumor?"

"You'd be surprised how often rumors can lead to something useful. Did Simon and Otis threaten you? What did they have on you?"

"Nothing! I told you, I didn't know the PI at all and contrary to what some people seem to think, I wasn't involved with Simon."

Wolf turned his head to the side in a gesture of disbelief. "Then what were you doing here with Simon? You were supposed to be getting ready to cook."

"He put me in an awkward position by asking me out. I was looking for him to turn down the invitation. I admit I was upset, but you don't kill somebody because of that."

"People have been murdered for less."

Sarcasm got the better of me. "Oh, right. Let's see, either be disqualified or kill the judge. I don't know . . . seems like I wouldn't win the contest either way."

His mouth hardened. "So what's your story this time, wise guy?"

"There's no story. I walked in and found him dead."

"You seem to be doing that a lot." After glaring at me until I was uncomfortable, he said, "Don't take any trips."

He left me in the back corridor, reeling from the events of the last two days. He was right. Normal people didn't find two corpses in two days. Why should he believe me? It seemed like men were dropping all around me. And it didn't help that I'd picked up the murder weapon and handled it.

When I returned to the conference room, the rescue squad was loading Simon onto a gurney. A blanket covered him, including his face.

"Wolf?" I said. "You're going to find my fingerprints on the murder weapon."

He ran a hand across his forehead. "I'm going to end up arresting you, aren't I?"

"No. No!" I hastened to explain. "I fell over it and picked it up. There were lots of people in the room; someone must have seen me."

"Where is it then?"

I looked around. a.s.sorted pieces of medical packaging littered the carpet but I didn't see the trophy. "It's the contest trophy. A heavy golden turkey, bronze or bra.s.s, I guess. I threw it on the floor."

Wolf stopped the rescue squad. "Any of you guys see a turkey?"

They shook their heads and kept going.

Wolf glared at me. "Why do you think it was the murder weapon?"

"There was blood on the tail."

He groaned. "Sometimes I look at you and I think you're a nice woman who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. And other times I have to wonder if you're devious enough to pick up the murder weapon in front of people so there will be a good reason for your fingerprints to be on it. Now get out of here. This is a crime scene."

I walked out of the room a few yards behind the rescue squad. People lined the hallway, watching and whispering. Natasha wept in Mars's arms as though she'd lost her dearest friend.

Mom flew at me. "Oh, honey."

My family cl.u.s.tered around me.

"Simon's dead," I said.

"Heart attack?" Dad asked, ever logical.

"Someone killed him," I whispered.

Natasha must have overheard. Sniffing, she pulled out a dainty handkerchief trimmed in robin's-egg blue. "Are they going to arrest you?"

Mars's British friend, Bernie, appeared out of nowhere. "Arrest Sophie? Are you mad? It's a wonder no one did the man in sooner. And how about you, Natasha? You came on the scene suspiciously fast."

Her mouth dropped open.

In spite of the horrible situation, I flashed Bernie a grateful smile for defending me. Bernie had been Mars's best man at our wedding and dropped in on us occasionally during our marriage. He was always the perfect houseguest, loads of fun, pitched in, and was easy to have around the house. The last I'd heard, he was tending bar at a pub in England. Had the situation been different, I'd have cornered him for an update on his life.

Dad's hand gripped my shoulder. His eyes met mine and I knew what he was thinking. I was in deep trouble.

Hannah clung to Craig. "I can't believe this is happening. Do you think we'll be on the news?"

Craig eyed me like a hawk, his face grim. His scrutiny made me want to squirm.

"Inga," Dad said to my mom, "I suspect we'll be a while. Wasn't there a wedding store in Georgetown that you didn't get to yesterday? And didn't you want to show Craig the tux we saw?"

Dad knew exactly what to say to sell the trip to the wedding enthusiasts.

Mars's brother, Andrew, chimed in, "No such luck, Mr. Bauer. We're corralled in this hotel like a bunch of cattle. It's stupid, if you ask me. If I'd wanted to kill Simon, I'd have done it two years ago." He snorted. "I got my satisfaction, though. The money he stole from me won't do him any good now."

Vicki looked aghast. "Andrew! Don't even joke about that. They're likely to take you seriously." She elbowed me and glanced around. "Do you think anyone heard that?"

"Only your family and mine."

I'd spent a lot of time with Andrew and Vicki when I was married to Mars. Vicki had a rough childhood. She'd lost her parents quite young and been raised by a brother who had lived abroad as long as I'd known her.

Sometimes I wondered how Vicki and Andrew felt when Aunt Faye left her fancy house to Mars and me. I imagined quite a bit of tooth-gnashing went on privately when we divorced and I ended up with the house. Vicki and Andrew had bought a nice townhome in Old Town, an easy walk from my house, but it couldn't compare in size or architectural charm.

I chalked up Andrew's ill-conceived remark to his desperate desire to be important. It didn't take a shrink to realize that Andrew longed for the kind of success and respect his brother, Mars, had achieved. Although Mars's connections to the rich and powerful opened a lot of doors for Andrew, I'd seen more than one person with a panicked expression try to dodge him at parties. His reputation for financial disaster surrounded him like a barnyard stench.

"What is wrong with you people?" Natasha dabbed at her eyes. "A wonderful man has been murdered and you're all just thinking about yourselves. I'm devastated."

Andrew smirked. "Knock it off, Miss Prim and Proper. If I were Mars, right about now I'd be wondering why you're blubbering about the death of a virtual stranger."

My dad intervened. "Let's settle down. We're all upset, Natasha. Let's stop this pettiness before people say things they'll regret."

The loudspeaker squawked and came to life with a piercing squeal. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is Detective Fleishman of the Alexandria Police Department. I'm sorry to have to ask you to return to the ballroom for the time being. We'll process everyone and get you out of here as quickly as we possibly can. Please relax. We've asked the hotel to serve additional refreshments."

Emma shouted, "What about the contest?"

I wished I could see Wolf's face.

"Uh, it's up to the organizers to determine what to do about that but I can a.s.sure you that it will not take place today in any event. Thank you."

After the requisite moans and groans, everyone headed back to the ballroom. Gossip ran rampant, though, and I could tell people were looking my way. They stared first but turned their heads quickly when I noticed them. I made a detour to the ladies' room.

I felt as though my entire body was quivering. Water ran over my trembling hands, washing off blood. I splashed cold water on my face, heedless of the small amount of makeup I wore. The trauma of finding Otis still haunted me, and discovering Simon's corpse shook me to the core.

For the sake of my family, I tried to pull myself together, patted my face dry, and took several deep breaths before returning to the ballroom. Mom and Nina brought coffee and bagels for Dad and me and we hunkered down behind my work counter. The hazelnut aroma had lost its appeal, though, and the dry bagel was nothing more than something to do. Dad wisely clamped down on us and forbade us to discuss the incident.

Hannah sulked while Craig went for refreshments. She slouched in her chair, her arms wrapped across her chest. "I had everything perfectly planned for Craig this weekend. Now my sister is a murder suspect and Craig is going to have to be interrogated by the police. Can you even imagine what he must think of us? I'll be lucky if he doesn't break off the engagement."

Mom patted her arm. "Darling, this is a good time to see how he acts in the face of adversity. He's an intelligent man. I'm sure he understands that this isn't typical for us."

"What's with the pale sweater, Hannah?" I asked. She'd always preferred fuchsia and periwinkle to soft shades.

"Craig likes me in muted colors."