“Well then, where are they?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

Georgette started to cry. “I feel like Little Bo Peep.”

Blaise sat back down on the bench. “Yeah, well, her sheep weren’t worth millions.”

That remark made Georgette really sob.

“Listen,” Blaise said in a comforting tone. “I’ll go back in there and do my best to find out where they went.” He didn’t need Georgette falling apart. “Now dry your eyes and get dressed up for tonight. Because when we leave the party, something tells me we’ll be walking out of there millionaires. You’d better stick the gun in your purse.”

“Okay,” Georgette said, nervously. “I guess we might need it.”

“We’ll need it if anybody tries to stop us.” When he hung up, Blaise rolled his eyes. “Little Bo Peep,” he said aloud.

He didn’t know that Stanley had just walked up to the gate and was filming him.

70

Jack was grateful when his plane taxied down the runway and took off for New York. Time to get back, he said to himself. Time to get back.

Thorn Darlington was on his mind. Jack had found out right before he got on the plane that Darlington was headed to New York too and would be staying with relatives in Gramercy Park. Too close for comfort, he thought. He had called Regan one more time and told her.

Jack accepted a drink from the flight attendant and sat back. He tapped his fingers on the tray table, reached down into his bag, and pulled out a notebook and pen. He wanted to make a list of things that he had to get done.

But it was hard to concentrate. Every instinct he had told him that there was more trouble ahead at the Settlers’ Club.

Silently, Jack prayed for the plane to go faster.

71

Archibald and Vernella and Cousin Thorn had been enjoying lunch at a portable table by the window in the living room when they noticed Blaise coming out of the Settlers’ Club and going into the park. Because the Enderses had made it their business to know the names and faces of everyone who had a key to the park, they were immediately outraged.

“You see!” Archibald whined to Thorn, who was in the middle of helping himself to another piece of cake. “The Settlers’ Club lets anyone use the park. And look at that man in that dopey orange hat, gesturing madly. He looks like a crazy person. I’m putting on my coat and going out there!”

“Jolly good,” Thorn said, smacking his lips.

“We’ll watch you, darling,” Vernella said, clearly enjoying herself.

Archibald put on his coat and top hat, grabbed his walking stick, and exited the front door. He looked like a man going for his morning constitutional.

“This is like live theater,” Vernella said, her eyes following Archibald as he approached the park and confronted the man with the hat who had had the gall to admit into the park a man with a video camera.

Four minutes later, Archibald strode back into his living room.

“Cousin Thorn, I have good news. That sorry individual was one of Maldwin’s butler students!”

“One of Maldwin’s butler students!” Thorn echoed. “It shows the caliber of his students, doesn’t it? Not such serious competition!”

“This calls for a glass of sherry!” Vernella cried.

“I don’t know whether we should celebrate so soon,” Thorn said with trepidation. “It might be a while before we get the butler school out of there. We don’t want to jinx our plan.”

“Believe me, Cousin, we can celebrate,” Archibald declared. “With all the negative publicity, no one will want to join that club. I will own that building before the buds are on the trees. So bring on the sherry!”

Vernella hurried to the sideboard and took out three small glasses. Archibald broke out his favorite bottle and poured it with great ceremony. “I propose a toast.”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Vernella urged.

“To the end of tacky days in Gramercy Park and to the fall of the Settlers’ Club. Let it be swift and sure.”

They clinked glasses.

You’d better believe it, Thorn thought. You don’t know how swift and sure. He looked across the street and pictured all the emergency vehicles with their flashing lights that would be racing to the Settlers’ Club tonight.

He couldn’t wait.

72

Regan had lined up the seven perfume bottles on Thomas’s desk. Janey was sitting with her eyes closed, facing the other way. Regan didn’t want her to be influenced by the names or packaging, and she wanted Janey to concentrate completely on her sense of smell.

“Ready?” Regan asked.

“Ready.”

Thomas was sitting in the corner, biting his fingernails. It was a habit he had developed only yesterday.

Regan picked up the bottle of Daisy Dewdrops and sprayed it on a sheet of paper. May as well start slowly, she thought. An unlikely scent for a criminal, but you never know. She held the paper up to Janey’s nose.

“That’s beautiful,” Janey sighed. “Could I have that bottle when we’re finished?”

“Why not? But I guess that’s not what we’re looking for.”

“No.” Janey sat up a little straighter and gently wiped her nose with a tissue.

Regan sprayed Ocean Water on paper and held it up.

“Definitely not,” Janey said.

Regan had been afraid to try the Lethal Injection because, in her heart, she knew it was the most likely candidate and she didn’t want it to be rejected. After all, Georgette had lied to her. If a boyfriend had given her the perfume, it must have been recently. Had she really broken up with her boyfriend? If not, what was she doing at the singles parties?

Regan picked up the bottle, pushed the needle, which released the spray, and barely had the paper under Janey’s nostrils when Janey cried out, “That’s it! That’s the perfume she was wearing!”

Thomas leaped from his chair, and the two of them engaged in another hug, similar to the one that took place when Janey was sprung from the closet yesterday.

“I knew you could do it,” Thomas cried. “I’m so proud of you.”

Regan looked at the lineup of the four untouched bottles. I wonder if I can return those? Probably not, she thought wryly. The wrappers have been removed. She cleared her throat. “I’m going to go upstairs and talk to Lydia,” she announced as the couple finally broke apart. And then I’ll give Ronald Brier a call, she thought. Find out what, if anything, he has on Georgette.

73

I need to speak to both you and Lydia,” Regan told Maldwin when he answered the door. “In private.”

“Miss Lydia is resting up for tonight.”

“This is important.”

Maldwin could tell by her tone that she meant business. “Very well,” he said and led her into the living room. “I will return shortly.”

Regan sat and looked around at Lydia’s new furnishings. This is all here because she inherited money from an elderly neighbor. I have to call those funeral directors Dad told me about, Regan thought.

A few moments later, Lydia came into the room looking visibly strained. Maldwin was right behind her.

“Hello, Regan,” Lydia said.

“Lydia, are you feeling all right?” Regan asked.

“I’m just worried about tonight, that’s all. All this negative publicity doesn’t help.” She didn’t mention that she’d just received another call from Burkhard, who had told her to save a dance for him. His tone was so menacing it made her skin crawl. “I want it to go well,” she added.