"Me? Why?"

"I wouldn't blame you, after last night."

"Oh, that." Cheryl grinned, obviously relieved. "What's a partner for?"

"A partner isn't obliged to set herself up as a sitting duck."

"I'm no sitting duck," Cheryl stated, her jaw protruding. "I may not be big, but I'm tough. I've taken a few karate lessons, and I'm a dead shot."

"I fondly hope those skills won't be required."

"Back where I come from, every kid learns to handle a gun. Do you have one?"

"I think Pat did have a gun, once upon a time. He kept it in the drawer of his bedside table."

"There's no gun there now. Not if that's the room I slept in; I opened the drawer this morning, looking for tissues."

"Then it must be somewhere else-or he got rid of it. I know Ruth never liked having it around. Cheryl, what are you getting at?"

"Why, I'm going to move in with you," Cheryl said calmly. "Unless you object, that is."

"But-"

"I won't be any trouble. I'll do the cooking and the cleaning, and we're going to be so busy getting the shop started that I'd be here a lot of the time anyway." "You don't have to sell yourself. But-" "Mark doesn't really need me. He only asked me to move in as a favor to me, and now that the session is ending he's too busy to do much entertaining. Can I have a key?"

"There are extras on the hall table. But-" "But me no buts. You'd better get dressed. Didn't you say you had an appointment with a lawyer this morning? I'll feed Alexander and lock up before I leave. Hurry, you're going to be late."

Karen started up the stairs, feeling as if she had been adopted by some strong-minded female head of state who combined the motherly concern of a kindly old lady with the role of general in chief of the armed forces. On the whole, she thought she was going to like it.

ROB was late to work again. When Karen spoke to him about it, he replied with poorly concealed insolence and retreated to the office.

Could Rob be the one responsible for what appeared to be a deliberate campaign of petty persecution? He had the right personality traits; he was eccentric, small-minded, and capable of harboring a grudge for fancied wrongs. He had pretended to be airily amused by Julie's refusal to leave him in charge, but perhaps he resented the person who had, as he believed, replaced him in Julie's trust.

Karen dealt with a minor flurry of customers and then sat down with the petticoat she was altering. Rob's temper had improved; she could hear him crooning to himself from the office, where he was supposedly unpacking china. He only hummed when he was in a good mood. Was he looking forward to another conquest that night or congratulating himself on another trick successfully carried out?

She was holding the petticoat up to make sure she had not missed any rents when Rob came out of the office.

"Mmm, yummy," he remarked. "I know a little lady who'd look gorgeous in that. Want me to steer her in? For the usual commission, of course."

"It's already spoken for," Karen said. "That's why I brought it in; I told the buyer it would be ready today."

"How much?"

There was no reason why she shouldn't tell him, so she did. Rob clucked appreciatively. "You're really making a killing at this, aren't you, duckie?"

"I'll be happy if I can make a modest living."

"'Twill be more than modest if you go on as you began. Who's the buyer, one of your rich friends from Middleburg?"

"I don't have any rich friends," Karen said shortly. "If you are referring to Mrs. Montgomery, she's only an acquaintance and-I hope-a good customer." Realizing that her tone had been repressive, she tried to make amends. There was no sense in irritating people needlessly. "She wouldn't buy anything like this. It's the young girls who go for the Victorian whites."

"Well, I'm sure it's just terribly fascinating, but I'm glad I don't have to worry about pin tucks and edging and all that. I'm going to run next door for a snack. Can I bring you anything?"

Karen declined with thanks and a pleasant smile. Her customer came while Rob was out; the remodeled petticoat was a perfect fit, and after the girl left, Karen studied the check with a satisfaction she had not felt even with Miriam's extravagant purchase. This money represented almost pure profit, for the petticoat was one she had found in old Mrs. Ferris' motley collection, and its pristine perfection was due to her own labors. Few people would have given it a second glance in its original condition.

Rob returned with an ice cream cone wrapped in a paper doily, which he presented with a bow. "Champagne ice," he announced. "Just the thing for you."

"Why?" Karen asked in surprise.

Rob's blue eyes widened. "To celebrate your sale, duckie. What else? I'm too poor to go for the bottled bubbly."

Karen laughed and thanked him and reminded herself she must not be paranoid, seeing sly hints in innocent remarks. But her annoyance revived when Rob appeared shortly thereafter wearing a blue silk shirt that set off his eyes. "You don't mind if I leave a bit early," he announced breezily. "Heavy date tonight-and I do mean, my dear, hea-vy!"

The chimes above the door tinkled mockingly as he opened it. "I may be late getting in tomorrow," Karen said. "Will you be sure-"

"But of course, darling." Rob's teeth shone like ivory. "That's fine with me. Be as late as you like."

He really is a maddening little bastard, Karen thought. Neither the adjective nor-as far as she knew- the noun was strictly accurate; but one tended to think of Rob as little, despite his inches. It was descriptive of his personality, anyway. But she could hardly scold him for taking time off just before she announced she intended to do the same. She wasn't paying his salary.

She hoped to join Cheryl next morning in her search for a suitable location. Cheryl was right, that was really the first order of business upon which everything else depended, and the sooner they got at it, the better. When Cheryl called later that afternoon it was to announce that she had found several likely prospects, but that she thought they ought to look farther. "I'll tell you about them tonight. I'm at home now, packing my things; okay if I go right to the house?"

"Yes, fine."

"Are you very tired?"

"Why? Are there some places we could inspect this evening?"

"Well, not exactly. We've been invited to dinner. I said I'd let him know. That maybe you were too tired after last night."

"Him," Karen repeated. "You told Mark what happened?"

"Wasn't I supposed to?" Cheryl asked innocently.

"Oh, it doesn't matter."

Cheryl appeared not to notice her ungracious tone. "He's really pleased about the partnership. That's why he's taking us to dinner, to celebrate."

"It's very nice of him," Karen said dryly.

"Would you mind if Tony joined us?"

"Of course not."

"Good. I'll tell him. See you later."

She hung up before Karen could answer.

So Cheryl had barely waited till her back was turned before running to her brother for help and sympathy. The fact that Karen felt a sneaking, cowardly sense of relief at Mark's involvement only made her angrier, not with Cheryl but with herself. She should never have agreed to letting Cheryl move in with her. It was tantamount to inviting a friend to join you in a cage of lions. Or perhaps a cage of rats-the attacks thus far had been more frightening than physically dangerous, but part of the terror was not knowing precisely what threatened her, or why.

Naturally Mark was concerned about his sister. The talk of celebrating the partnership was only an excuse; including Tony Cardoza in the party gave Mark's true motive away. She and Cheryl were about to attend another meeting of the Murder Club. Only this time, instead of idly arguing about classic crimes, the two men would be discussing a real case.