"Ah, good," Rick said from behind the desk.

Geri spun around. "Where have you-"

"Busy. Guys, take those up to 319 and stick them just inside the door. It's unlocked."

"Wait just a minute," Geri said, clearly ruffled by his interruption. "Those are the cases of KoKo-Nut for my contest, and they're not going upstairs. They're going straight to the kitchen, and right now! I have more than enough problems without losing track of the key product." She paused and shook her head. "Although why there's so much of it is beyond me. I put in a request for one, which was one too many to begin with. We have enough to contaminate the water supply for the entire city."

Rick rubbed his temples. "No, Miss Gebhearn, the kitchen isn't cleaned yet, and the cartons will be in the way of the crew. They can be safely stashed upstairs until it's time to bring them down."

"They are going to the kitchen. There's ample room along the wall." Barely stopping short of stamping her foot, she pointed imperiously at the deliverymen. "Take them down that hall and put them in the kitchen."

"They need to go upstairs," Rick insisted.

Geri slammed the clipboard down on the counter and turned on him with all the fury of a prep school princess. "I've had it with you, buster! I am in charge of this travesty, but there's damn little to keep me from taking the next train to the Cape. You can call the CEO of whatever the investment company is and tell him how you screwed up this promotion and you refused to cooperate and you failed to provide security until this morning so that you ended up with the police. While you do that, I'll be changing into sweats and pouring myself a Tab!"

Rick looked as if he might come across the desktop to throttle her, but Cambria intervened, saying, "Rickie, my boy, this is not the time to make waves. I believe you ought to allow the little lady to do as she wishes, and without interference. There's no reason why the cartons cannot be stored in the kitchen."

The deliverymen waited, as did I, for the next round.

It wasn't Broadway quality, but it had potential. Geri had her fists on her hips, her jaw squared like a pugnacious boxer, and her mouth was stretched to expose glistening white teeth. Rick looked from Cambria to her, slowly uncurled his fists, and said, "Take the cartons to the kitchen, guys."

Geri was too well-bred to gloat, but I could see it took effort on her part. "Fine. I'll need the key to the kitchen door."

"Why should you need the key?" said Rick. "That's out of the question. I need to have it handy for when the cleaning crew shows up. I don't have time to call your fancy office and wait until you come back here to open up for us."

"I've decided that we don't need a cleaning crew," she said with a shrug. "It's a bit dusty in there, but I'll have Kyle wipe down the surfaces and run a mop. In the meantime, I want those cartons kept stored in a secure place, and I have no doubt that the minute I step out the door, you'll have them moved to God knows where."

The KoKo-Nut wars did not escalate, to my disappointment. Rick snarled under his breath, but went into the office and returned with a key with a cardboard tag. Geri took it, beckoned to the deliverymen, and led them down the hallway. Cambria returned outside to guard the gate.

And I remained on my perch, remembering what life in New York had been like. Daily confrontations had been the norm. No one bothered to remark on hostile exchanges with cab drivers, vendors, pedestrians, skaters, clerks. In Maggody, a single cross word was repeated, analyzed, debated as to its merit. I could easily imagine Mrs. Jim Bob saying, "Well, Eula had no call to say that Millicent's daughter looked like a tart, even though she does. Of course, Millicent did tell Lottie that Eula's meringue was sticky, and…"

"That's settled," Geri said as she returned to the lobby and retrieved her clipboard to make a flamboyant checkmark. She waited until the deliverymen trudged out the door. "I wish I had my mother's zeal for this sort of publicity thing, but I don't. I'd much prefer to handle nice, quiet little accounts for detergents and pet food."

"You said last night that this was dumped on you at the last minute," I said, aware that sympathy had been tacitly requested.

"A week ago. I'm the new kid in the office, so I'm given all the assignments no one else wants. Have you ever tasted this Krazy KoKo-Nut? It's so nasty I almost barfed. Now I'm obliged to chirp its praises to the media, when I'm dying to do nothing more than lie in the chaise at the summer house. It's simply not fair!"

Before she could do a rerun of the previous night's tears, I said, "I have a question about the incident the night before last, Geri. According to Durmond, he was mugged in the stairwell and lost consciousness when he fell. Someone carried him to Ruby Bee's room, although I can't see one person handling him. My question is this: Who called the police, and how did they know to go to Ruby Bee's room?"

"I have no idea," she admitted, frowning.

"Is someone trying to sabotage the contest?"

The frown disappeared and she gave me a pitying smile. "Please, Arly, this is the national Krazy KoKo-Nut cookoff. Why on earth would anyone bother to sabotage it? I'm knocking myself silly trying to get anyone at all to even notice it. I had to go through my father to speak to the food editor at the Times, and I've never been so embarrassed in my life when she finally stopped laughing and declined to be a judge. Travel and Leisure couldn't find so much as an assistant to an assistant editor who was willing to set foot in this place, much less sample food containing coconut-flavored soybean flakes. I couldn't bring myself to call an old friend at Gourmet. If anyone had the decency to sabotage this contest, it would be I.

I was about to agree with her when the door opened and a woman entered the lobby. Cambria staggered after her with four large, worn suitcases and a plastic cosmetics case. The woman had pale, thick hair and a kittenish face, and she wore a black leather miniskirt, a pink blouse that neared translucency, and fringed boots. Her makeup was more suitable for a stage than a street, although it wasn't challenging to imagine her conducting business on a street corner…near Times Square.

"Mr. Cambria, you are such a doll," she said, giggling at him. "I am so flattered that you remember me from that show at the Blue Heaven! The boss pointed you out to us girls, but there were ten or maybe more of us in the line. You are a regular sweetheart."

"I should forget legs like yours?" Cambria responded gallantly. "I have thought of nothing else since then, not even in my dreams."

Still giggling, she kissed him on the cheek and gave him a little wave as he went outside, then spotted Geri and me and waved at us. "I'm Gaylene Feather. Are you in the contest, too? Isn't this exciting?" She spoke with a heavy New York accent, forming the words in the front of her mouth and sending them up through her nose like cigarette smoke.

"I'm Arly Hanks, daughter of a contestant," I said.

"Arly?" she repeated, her finger on her cheek. "I don't guess I've ever met anyone with that name before. It's kinda exotic, if you know what I mean."

"Oh, I do." I looked down modestly, not inclined to lie and claim kinship with the sprite in The Tempest, nor to be truthful and admit I'd been named Ariel, albeit with a glitch in the spelling, after a photograph of Maggody taken from an airplane. Geri introduced herself and acknowledged that she was the coordinator from the marketing agency. "We were expecting you yesterday evening, Miss Feather, but it's just as well you waited until today."

"Please, you should call me Gaylene. My real name's plain old Gail, so I changed it a while back when I began my career. I heard about the man getting shot." She sat down across from us, her heavy eyelashes fluttering like convulsed spiders, and added, "I had to work last night, anyways, so I couldn't have come. My boss is real upset about me missing the next few nights. I have to admit I'm losing money by doing this, but maybe the publicity will help my career, and a trip to Vegas can't hurt."