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  “Sounds like a mature relationship.”

  “It works. And you? Boyfriend missing you?”

  “Sure.” She tried to give a smile of insouciance. “And he’s terribly jealous of you, too. So at last we have something in common. I think I’ll call my office and just see what’s going on.”

  Before he could reply, she had dialed the number of her office. Gerald answered.

  “Fiona, darling, where in the world are you? No, don’t tell me. If I know, I’ll have to tell the police. They’ve been here all morning. It’s been awful.”

  Not as awful as finding a dead man on top of you, Fiona thought but didn’t say. “Any problems at work?” she asked, trying to get her current situation out of her mind.

  “Well,” Gerald said, “I had to change Kimberly just a tiny bit, but the launch this morning was a great success.”

  Fiona could feel hysteria rising in her throat. “You launched Kimberly early? Without me?”

  “Considering what was going on with you, Garrett thought we should go ahead and get her out there, and besides, he said that since you’d killed Roy, our chances of getting the Raphael franchise were now greatly reduced, so we need everything we can get from Kimberly.”

  Fiona was sputtering. “I—did—not—kill—anyone.”

  “Oh, sure. I know that. And in the pool, I bet on your side.”

  “Pool.” Her voice was flat, emotionless.

  “Oh, Fee, by the way, the maps in the trunks look divine. Listen I gotta go. Soooo much to do. If the police call again, what should I tell them?”

  “That Kimberly and I are—Oh, the hell with it,” she snapped, then hung up.

  Fiona tossed the phone onto the top of her backpack and plopped down onto the black leather chair. If possible, she felt worse than she had. When was this nightmare going to be over? She had to get back to work before that treacherous Gerald did something dreadful to Kimberly.

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Ace said, “who is Kimberly?”

  “Mine, mine, mine!” Fiona half shouted. “And if that little pink-eared swivel-hipped Gerald thinks he can take her from me, he’d better be prepared to fight to the death.”

  Ace blinked at her for a moment. “You want a drink? How about a little TV? Maybe something on the Disney Channel?”

  Fiona was smoldering, furious, as she glared at him. “You think this place has any paper in it? And a pen? Or a pencil?”

  Immediately, Ace stood up, left the room, and moments later returned with a legal pad in a plastic folder and a roller-ball pen. “Best I could do. Will it be okay?”

  “Fine.” She snatched the pad and pen from him.

  Minutes later they had both settled down to do the only thing they could do: wait. Ace watched TV while Fiona drew. A couple of times she looked up at him, and each time she marveled that the man could find so many bird shows on TV.

  Phrases from the TV show came to her.

  “One hundred and sixteen species of birds breed in the Everglades.”

  “One ounce of feathers was worth two ounces of pure gold to the people who made ladies’ hats.”

  Minutes later she looked up to see a picture of the man whose portrait she’d seen in Ace’s house.

  “In 1905, Guy Bradley was killed trying to protect a rookery at Oyster Key. It was the day conservation was born in America.”

  But she didn’t have time to think much about what Ace was doing as her own mind was going fast and furiously and she was sketching her ideas as quickly as she could move the pen. Drawing and designing for Kimberly soothed her. She didn’t plan to use anything that she was drawing now, but in the way professional chefs cooked to relax and race car drivers took a Sunday drive, Fiona calmed down with a pen and a pad of paper.

  She didn’t look up again until she heard the music for the show’s credits, and there the name “Dr. Paul Montgomery” appeared again and again. For a moment, Fiona stared, transfixed. He had written, produced, and researched the show. He’d even supplied “additional photography” and “consultations.”

  For the rest of the day she drew while he flipped through ninety-some channels and watched TV, and he managed to find one show after another about birds. Bird names, phrases, and sounds floated about her head.

  “The stately sandhill crane …”

  “The great egret …”

  “The blue-winged teal stays here year round….”

  “Roseate spoonbill …”

  “Black-bellied plover …”

  But she always looked at the TV when she heard the music for the ending credits for a show, and she always saw the name “Dr. Paul Montgomery” roll over and over on the screen.

  When it grew dark outside and Ace said he was going to bed, she barely heard him.

  “If you want the bed, I’ll take the couch,” he said.

  “No, no,” she said absently, not lifting her eyes from the paper. “Take the bed. I’m staying here.”

  After a moment of watching her, Ace shrugged, then went to bed and was asleep instantly. But later he awoke, saw the light still on in the living room, and got up to investigate. Fiona had fallen asleep, the notebook on her lap, pages falling all about her. Carefully, he pushed the pages off of her, carried her into the bedroom, and placed her on the bed.

  As he pulled the light spread over her, he said, “I don’t know who Kimberly is, but I don’t think she’s worth all this.”

  Turning, he went back into the living room, turned off the light, and stretched out on the sofa. He was tempted to look at her drawings, but there was something in him that held back. He didn’t want to know more about her than he already did. No, he just wanted to get out of this absurd situation and return to Kendrick Park and the life he loved.

  Two minutes later, he was asleep.

  Seven

  I get to go home today, was Fiona’s first thought upon waking. This nightmare of hiding from the police, of finding dead bodies, of hearing that Kimberly had been launched without her, was about to end. Stretching, she thought of all that home meant: her own clothes, seeing her facialist again, having a massage.

  “Coffee?” came a voice from the doorway, then Ace’s head came into view. “There are some bagels, but they’ve been frozen.”

  Fiona grimaced, then forced a small smile. “Sure. Anything. What did the fax say?”

  “It hasn’t come yet,” he said as he entered the bedroom as though it were his right. “Look, don’t worry. It takes time for these things. My brother and my cousins know a lot of people, and they’ll find out things.”

  She took the steaming mug from him and sipped. He could drive and he could make coffee. “I don’t think I want to know what kind of business your relatives are in. Do they have names like ‘Bugsy’ and ‘Scarface’?”

  For a moment Ace blinked at her as though trying to understand what she was implying, then he gave her a crooked grin. “Sure. And I got a brother named ‘Deuce.’ What about you?”

  “No brothers, no sisters. Just me.”

  “Lonely childhood, huh?”

  “Not quite. I spent most of my life in boarding schools and had a wonderful time. Can you call someone and see what they’ve found out?”

  “Already did. So far no one’s heard back from anyone. That could be good or bad.”

  “Would you explain please? I’m not up to the jargon of criminals or the Mafia.”

  Again Ace blinked at her before he spoke. “If none of the people doing the searching have reported back yet, it could be bad, meaning that they’ve found nothing. On the other hand maybe they stepped on so many toes that they were wiped out.”

  “I don’t like your sense of humor,” Fiona said as she handed the empty mug back to him. “All I want to do is get out of here and back to New York.”

  “And to your beloved Kimberly,” Ace said, looking at her as though he hoped she’d explain.

  “Would you give me some privacy? I want to take a shower.”

  “Sure. T