"Are you telling me that Mr. Sales didn't have a stroke?"

Mona laughed again. "No, no. Of course not. This is the first I've heard of it. I just spoke to Cassie a few minutes ago, and she didn't mention a thing about it to me."

Mona took special note that there were brown spots on Charles Schwab's shirt cuffs. His hat looked as if it had fleas. The blue eyes that she'd thought were sweet only moments ago were marbles now. He was not thinking of making time with her.

"That's good news," he murmured.

"Poor Cassie, you really can't believe anything she says. If someone's not with her every minute, she forgets to take her medicine. It's very sad. Can I have Ira call you tomorrow?"

"No need. We have a meeting scheduled."

Mona thought she might just lead Schwab out to his car. "It's just that nobody who knows anything is here right now, and I have to-"

"That's no problem. I don't need anyone. I was just looking around, getting the lay of the land."

"I'm concerned that you're being ignored."

"No, no, not at all. I like to get the feel for a place and the people. Some people think it's absolutely all in the paper, but you'd be surprised how helpful impressions can be. You, for example, have been very helpful."

"I have? I'll walk you to your car," Mona said happily.

"Not with that ankle, you won't."

"No, it's fine, really. You know, you remind me of my first boyfriend. It's just amazing." Actually, the handsome Bruce had never given Mona the time of day, but she had loved him with all her heart. Probably still did. She gazed at Schwab. "He was the best-looking boy I ever met."

"No kidding." Charlie tipped his hat without losing his crooked grin.

"When you come back will you teach me about audits? I don't know a thing about the business side."

"I know. You're the concept person." He smiled. Clearly the man was very attracted to her.

Mona thought this encounter was going extremely well. What a break that Cassie had called the cops. Giving herself the benefit of the doubt here, even she couldn't have thought of a better stunt than that. Schwab grinned as they walked out into the parking lot, where he remarked, "You look like you're doing okay with that ankle."

"Oh, it hurts like mad, but what can you do? Hey, maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Does your wife also work for the IRS?"

Charlie IRS Schwab actually stopped short and looked at her as if no one in the world had ever asked him that question. Mona put her hand to her mouth in surprise. She couldn't believe she'd said such a thing. She never made mistakes like that.

Schwab didn't reply. He gave her a little wave, got into a beaten-up black Buick, and drove off. Trembling, Mona drew her own cell phone out of her pocket and dialed Mitch's number. This time Cassie didn't pick up.

MONA KNEW SHE WAS ABOUT to have an asthma attack. Asthma attacks were terrifying . First the wheezing, then the throat closing up. Choking and gasping for air. Water filling her lungs and static filling her brain. Panic that she might have a heart attack, too. She could just see herself collapsing in the parking lot with no one there to save her. Well, maybe someone would save her. There were no windows in the warehouse, but surely someone would save her.

As a child, Mona had barely survived many asthma attacks. In fact, it was her first bad attack when she was only three that had caused her mother-who disappeared for long stretches of time-to take her to the hospital, leave her there, and not come back for her for nine whole years. During all those years, each time she had an attack her bitch of a grandmother (who was so rich) and her aunts (who didn't like her one bit and always hinted she was illegitimate) would scold her and tell her to get a grip until she was almost at death's door. They always let her get really sick before they'd finally bundle her up and take her to the emergency room. Death's door every time. No wonder she was insecure.

She felt so sad and lonely and panicked right now, she could hardly breathe. Mitch always knew what to do when she felt an attack coming on. He'd calm her right down, then he'd yell at someone to get her a warm drink and tell her a joke to distract her while they waited for it. Usually the joke was something about balls and chains, how he had two. Mitch was a big kidder, and she loved him so much that she hadn't had a single full-blown attack in all the years she'd known him. Only little mini ones that all had to do with Cassie.

As she stood in the gap in the parking lot made by Mitch's missing Mercedes, she scratched the first mosquito bite of the season. It was in the middle of her knee and starting to swell like a huge hive. Maybe it was a hive. She was an allergic person. She panted a little, experimenting with her wheeze and heartbeat. Her brain was as clear as Evian, however. Of course it made total sense. For Mitch not to call her, he had to be really sick. And since the first day they'd met, he'd never been too sick to call her.

She took control of her panic, found her car key, and unlocked the door of her little red Jaguar. She slid in, grimacing a little at the blistering heat of the tan leather seat and the sunbaked stale air. She fanned herself with the take-out menu of a Chinese restaurant she used when Mitch was at home with Cassie, and dialed Ira Mandel's number on the car phone.

"Local spies. Employ people from the local district."

Cissy, the receptionist, answered on the first ring. "Mandel and Blathar."

"Cissy, it's Mona. How are you doing, honey?"

"I'm doing just fine, Miss Whitman. He's not here right now."

"Who isn't there?"

"Ira isn't here, and Teddy isn't, either."

"Do you know where they are, Cissy? This is very important."

"No, I don't."

"This is so urgent, it's really life and death."

"I still don't know, Miss Whitman."

"Cissy, honey, how could you not know where they are? You know everything."

"I don't know everything, Miss Whitman."

"Of course, you do. You sit right there by the door and they always tell you what to say before they go out."

"Well, they didn't this time."

"Now, Cissy. Who's on your side, huh? Who buys you perfume in Paris? And I got you some more of that kind you like. I have it right here in my bag. And you know what else? I brought you a Pashmina scarf and a Prada bag."

"Miss Whitman, you shouldn't do that." Cissy's voice quavered. She was a pushover.

"Well, friends are friends. How about you don't tell me and I just suggest possibilities."

No answer.

"Did they go out to lunch?"

"Nope."

"Are they in the conference room?"

"Nope."

"Are they in a meeting somewhere?"

"Uh-uh."

"How about the hospital? Are they at the hospital?"

"Well, now that you mention that, Miss Whitman, I think maybe they did go to the hospital. Mr. Mandel was very upset."

"How is Mr. Sales doing?"

"I'm so sorry, Miss Whitman. I don't think he's so good."

"Thank you, honey. You're just the greatest. I'm going to get those little gifts to you right away."

"No, no, don't even think about it," Cissy said quickly. "I don't want to lose my job."

"Oh, you won't lose your job. And I won't forget you, okay? Friends are friends, right?"

Mona's blood thundered in her ears as she hung up. Now she could feel her breath rattle. Asthma, for sure, the one time Mitch wasn't there to calm her down and save her. Tears came and ruined her mascara. Mitch, the one true love of her life, really was in the hospital, and no one had told her. So cruel. So cold of the family to ignore her like this. Teddy was her friend. She couldn't bear it. Mitch must be so upset without her beside him. The hurt feeling, the terrible burden for her terrible young life that she carried like a heavy boulder, grew and grew. The betrayal was terrible. No one had told her. They were trying to keep things from her. Mona's mind began to race.