“You shouldn’t speak to me that way, Sabrina,” I said, stiffening my spine and looking her straight in the eye. “I don’t react very well to threats. Sometimes they upset me and make me do something threatening in return.” I felt it went without saying that if I told my detective boyfriend about her escort service, she could find herself in deep doo-doo.

“We seem to have each other over a barrel,” she said, smiling.

“Yes, but you have a bit more to lose than I do. You could lose your fortune and your freedom. All I stand to lose is a story.”

“Or your life,” she said.

She wasn’t smiling anymore. But she wasn’t threatening me, either. The soft tone of concern in her voice and the anxious expression on her face made the motive for her dreadful warning clear: She was simply urging me to find the murderer as fast as I could, and cautioning me to be careful while I was at it.

I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Our dirty deal was done, and Sabrina was now as protective of me as she was of her other employees. I had-in a crazy, roundabout kind of way-become one of her girls.

“OKAY, TIME’S UP, SABRINA!” I SAID, AFTER devouring two more mouthfuls of mousse. “If you want me to turn on the speed, you’ve got to do the same. I want the name of the man you sent Virginia to meet last Monday night, plus the names of the other clients you regularly fixed her up with. I need to know which of your girls were her closest friends, and I want a list of their addresses and phone numbers. And you’d better make it fast,” I added, giving her a taste of her own aggressive medicine. “I’ve got to get back to the office.” (That, by the way, was a gross understatement. My lunch hour had ended more than an hour ago. I was so late it was ludicrous.)

Sabrina stood up and tossed her napkin on the table. “I’ve already made you a list,” she said. (Would she always be one step ahead of me?) “It’s in the library. Come with me and I’ll give it to you.” She turned and headed for the door, obviously expecting me to follow.

I was on my feet in a flash. I hadn’t finished my dessert, but I was hungry for proof, not pudding. Scrambling to catch up, I trailed Sabrina out of the dining room, across the large tiled entry, down the hall to the library, and across the plush Oriental rug to her desk. Her pace was fast, her posture was perfect, and her limp was barely noticeable.

Sabrina took two sheets of lavender stationery from the top drawer of her desk and held them close to her chest. “You must guard this list with your life, Paige. Don’t let anyone else see it. If it should get into the wrong hands-”

“Don’t worry!” I broke in, panting like an overheated poodle. “I promise you nobody will handle it but me!” It was all I could do not to pounce onto the top of her desk and tear the list away with my teeth.

“Okay, then,” Sabrina said, folding the list up like a letter and sticking it into a lavender envelope. She licked the flap of the envelope and sealed it tight. “ Virginia ’s three primary patrons are listed on the first page, and her two closest girlfriends on the other. I’ve given you their names, addresses, phone numbers, occupations, and any other biographical facts I have on file. I’ve written down Virginia ’s information, too. That should be more than enough to get you started.”

I shot a crazed glance at the sealed envelope, then aimed a frantic gaze at Sabrina’s face. “But which one of these men was Virginia with the night of the murder?” I begged. If she doesn’t give me the answer this minute, I’ll have to kill myself!

Sabrina cast her eyes down to the floor. “I don’t know,” she said, with a sad shrug of her shoulders.

“What do you mean?” I shrieked. “Didn’t you make the appointment for her?”

“Yes, but I made two appointments for her that night. One at eight, and another one at eleven. The papers didn’t say what time she was killed, so I don’t know which-if either-client she was with.”

Aaargh! There went my hopes for cracking the case with one blow. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

“Okay,” I said, quickly pulling myself together. (I didn’t have time to kill myself.) “So which one was scheduled for eight, and which one for eleven?”

“They’re listed in order,” she explained. “The first man was Virginia ’s first client, and the second, as you might surmise, was her second. The last man on the list also called for a date with her that evening, but I had to put him off. I never ask any of my girls to accept more than two engagements in one night.” Sabrina struck a staunch pose and held her head high, obviously proud of her strong personal principles.

Jeez Louise! Is she ever going to give me the damn list?

“Hand it over, Sabrina!” I demanded, stretching my arm and open palm in her direction. “Give me the envelope. I’ve got to get back to the office right now.”

With a deep frown and loud sigh of surrender, she relinquished the list to my feverish grasp. “Don’t forget, Paige. You have given me your solemn promise. You will not share this information with anybody.”

“I get the message already!” I fumed. “How many times do you have to say it?”

“As many times as it takes for the message to sink in. All three of the clients on this list are very important, well-respected men. And that’s why I have to be so careful-why I have to do everything in my power to protect them. Do you understand?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But what? You believe they deserve to have their lives and reputations destroyed? You think all three should be punished for their sins whether one of them turns out to be a murderer or not?”

“Well, no, I just-”

“And what if one of them is the killer?” she barreled on. “How much do you think my life would be worth if he thought I wouldn’t keep his relationship with Virginia confidential?”

My head was spinning with the awful magnitude of it all. So many secrets to keep. So many reputations and careers and families in jeopardy. So many lies to tell. So many lives at stake-including, perhaps, my own. I could lose my job, too, if I didn’t get my tail back to the office!

“I’ve got to go, Sabrina!” I sputtered, staggered by the time shown on her silver desk clock. I spun around and headed for the door, grabbing my purse off the couch en route. “But I still have to talk to you about this!” I cried, pulling to a stop near the door and thrusting the lavender envelope in the air. “Can I call you tonight when I get home, after I’ve had a chance to read and study your notes?” And after I’ve had about six glasses of Chianti?

“Call me anytime-night or day. My private number is Gramercy 5-6003. I’ve written it down for you on the second page. Right under the information about Melody.”

“Melody?” I croaked, folding the envelope and stuffing it down into the bottom of my purse. “Who is that? One of Virginia ’s girlfriends?”

“Melody was Virginia ’s professional name,” Sabrina said, “the one she used when she was working for me. Her clients knew her only as Melody. They were never told her real name. That’s one of my strictest, most important measures of protection. All of my girls have pseudonyms.”

“Do you have one, too?”

“Of course.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Sabrina Stanhope,” she said, smiling again.