The last thing on God's earth I need, Carter thought. "Oh, I'm sorry," he said, "but I do have dinner plans"-with myself, he added silently.

"Then perhaps just for cocktails," President Downes suggested nervously. "I would consider it a great favor, Carter. You see, I will have a photographer here to take pictures of you and the other honorees who are still in town."

The other honorees who are still in town-that's a good way to put it, Carter thought sarcastically. "I'm afraid-" he began.

"Please, Carter. I won't keep you long, but in light of the events of the past few days, I do need to have photos of the four truly distinguished recipients of our plaques of honor. I need them to replace the group pictures we took at the dinner. You can understand how very important that will be as we launch our building drive."

There was no hint of mirth in Carter Stewart's barklike laugh. "It seems to be my day to atone for the many sins of my life," he said. "What time do you want me to be there?"

"Seven o'clock would be ideal." President Downes' voice was bubbling with gratitude.

"Very well."

An hour later Carter Stewart was in Robby Brent's room at the Glen-Ridge House. Both Justin Lewis, the manager, and Jerome Warren, the assistant manager, were in the room with him, and both were visibly distressed at what they considered to be the potential liability to the hotel for allowing Stewart to take anything from the room.

Stewart went over to the desk. A thick pile of scripts was stacked on top of it. Stewart flipped through some of the pages. "There," he said. "As I explained to you, and as you can see, these are the scripts Mr. Brent edited, the ones that the production company needs immediately. I won't take possession of them for even an instant." He pointed to Justin Lewis. "You pick them up." He pointed to Jerome Warren. "You hold the express envelope to drop them in. Then you can decide between you who addresses it. Now, are you satisfied?"

"Of course, sir," Lewis said nervously. "I hope you understand our position and why we have to be so careful."

Carter Stewart did not answer. He was staring at the notation Robby Brent had propped on the desk phone: "Made appointment to show scripts to Howie Tuesday, 3:00 p.m."

The manager had seen it, too. "Mr. Stewart," he said, "I understood that you were the one who had the appointment to go over these scripts with Mr. Brent."

"That's right."

"Then may I ask who is Howie?"

"Mr. Brent was referring to me. It's a joke."

"Oh, I see."

"Yes, I'm sure you do. Mr. Lewis, have you ever heard the saying that he who laughs last laughs best?"

"Yes, I have," Justin Lewis said, bobbing his head in confirmation.

"Good." Carter Stewart began to chuckle. "It applies in this situation. Now let me give you that address."

72

After Sam left Rich Stevens' office, he went down to the coffee shop in the courthouse and ordered coffee and a ham-and-Swiss on rye to go.

"You mean 'with shoes,' " the new counterman said cheerfully. Noting Sam's bewildered expression, he explained, "You don't say 'to go' anymore. You say 'with shoes.' "

I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing that, Sam thought when he got back to his office and was taking the sandwich out of the bag.

He placed his lunch on his desk and turned on his computer. An hour later, the sandwich eaten, the last sip of coffee forgotten in the container, he was putting together all the information he had gathered on Laura Wilcox.

I have to acknowledge that you can find a lot on the Internet, Sam thought, but you can also waste a lot of time in the process. He was looking for the kind of background that would not be found in Laura's official biography, but so far he hadn't uncovered anything that was helpful.

Because there was a depressingly long list of Laura Wilcox references, he began to open the ones that he thought might prove revealing. Laura's first marriage, when she was twenty-four, had been to

Dominic Rubirosa, a Hollywood plastic surgeon. "Laura is so beautiful that in our home my talent will be wasted," Rubirosa was quoted as saying after the ceremony.

Sam grimaced. Isn't that touching, especially since the marriage lasted exactly eleven months. I wonder what happened to Rubirosa? Maybe he's still in touch with Laura. He decided to look him up and found an article showing a picture of him and his second wife at their wedding. "Monica is so beautiful that she will never have need of my professional services" was the quote attributed to Rubirosa that day.

"A little variation but not enough. What a jerk," Sam said aloud as he clicked back to the spread on Laura's first wedding.

There was a picture of her parents at the ceremony-William and Evelyn Wilcox of Palm Beach. On Monday, when Laura hadn't shown up, Eddie Zarro had left a message on her parents' phone, asking them to contact Sam. When there was no response, he'd had a Palm Beach policeman go to the house. A gossipy neighbor told the cop that they were on a cruise, but she wasn't sure which one. She volunteered that they kept to themselves, "were kind of cranky old people," and that she got the impression they were angry at some of the stuff that came out in Laura's messy second divorce.

Cruise ships get the news, Sam thought. With all the media coverage about Laura these past few days, you'd think they'd make some inquiries. It's odd that we still haven't heard from them. I'll see if the Palm Beach cops can't dig deeper and find out what cruise they're on. Of course, it's just possible that Laura tipped them off not to worry about her.

He glanced up as Joy Lacko came into his office. "The boss just pulled me off the homicides," she said. "He wants me to work with you. He said you'd explain." From her expression it was clear to Sam that Joy was not happy about being reassigned.

Her annoyance faded as Sam filled her in on what he had learned about Jean Sheridan and Lily, her daughter. The fact that Lily's adoptive father was a three-star general aroused her interest, as did the realization that it seemed impossible Laura Wilcox had sent the last fax to Jean Sheridan, the one that claimed that she had been behind all the threats. "And I still cannot believe that five women from the same lunch table at Stonecroft Academy died in the order in which they sat at the table," he concluded. "If it isn't one of those incredible strokes of fate, it would mean that Laura is destined to be the next one to die."

“You mean you have two celebrities missing, which may or may not be a publicity stunt; you have a West Point cadet, the adopted daughter of a general, being threatened, and you have five women dead in the order they sat at the table at school. No wonder Rich thinks you need help," Joy said matter-of-factly.

"I do need help," Sam admitted. "Finding Laura Wilcox is top priority, both because she's obviously in danger if those five deaths can be proven to be homicides, and because she may have known about Lily and told someone else about her."

"What about Laura's family? How about her close friends? Have you talked to her agent?" Lacko had her notebook out. Pen in hand, she waited for Sam's answers.

"You're asking the right questions," Sam said. "On Monday I put in a call to her agency. It turns out Alison Kendall had handled Laura herself. It's been a month since Kendall died, but no one at the agency has been assigned to take her over."

"That's unusual," Joy said. "I'd think that would be one of the first things they'd do."

"Apparently the reason is that she's in debt to them; they'd been giving her advances. Alison had been willing to carry her, but the new chief executive isn't. They promised to get back to us if they hear from her, but don't hold your breath. I get the distinct feeling that the agency is not really very interested in Laura."