Lyle Marshall had been the hard luck story of a guy who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time. They’d tried several times to get Charlotte alone, but she’d stuck to her husband like a second skin and there had been no choice but to hit him, too.

Tonight there hadn’t been time to make any arrangements from the outside, or even to ask the Old Man’s advice. He couldn’t stand by twiddling his thumbs and waiting for orders while Clayton and Rachael told the others about the suitcases. Like it or not, he was on his own up here and he’d been forced to make the decision. The Old Man ought to be grateful that he’d handled the problem so competently. Perhaps it would get him that long-overdue promotion.

The Caretaker was smiling as he checked the gardening shed to make sure everything was in order, then relocked it. It was a lucky break for him that Darby hadn’t believed in natural gardening and even luckier that she’d stocked up on insecticides before her death. The skull and crossbones on the package of rose dust had given him the method, and the execution had gone off by the numbers. Poison was a quiet, hands-off solution, a way of accomplishing his task with a minimum of personal involvement. Unlike the Old Man’s soldiers, he had never been a violent man and the obvious enjoyment they took from their work had always struck him as the sign of an aberrant personality.

ELEVEN

Ellen glanced at the clock on the living room wall. It was past three in the morning and Walker was gone. But where was he? She was beginning to worry.

The wine had relaxed her, just as Walker had promised, and she’d fallen asleep the minute her head had touched the pillow. Then, almost an hour ago, a nightmare had jolted her from her sleep. Ellen remembered the dream vividly, even though she tried not to dwell on it.

She was all alone, walking down a path through a graveyard late at night. The moonlight cast dark black shadows on the path. She was wearing her favorite pajamas, the pink flannel ones with white elephants that her mother had given her when she was a child, but the sandals she’d bought last summer were on her feet.

Her footsteps were loud in the quiet night, a crunching of gravel beneath her feet. Frightened, she glanced behind her to make sure no one was following. She wasn’t certain why she was in this graveyard, but she knew that she had to follow the path, and that it was leading her deeper and deeper among the towering headstones.

The night breeze was cold and she wrapped her arms around her chest, unsure whether she was shivering from the chill wind or from fear. Then, as she passed a carved marble headstone with angels surrounding a name she couldn’t quite read, the earth below her feet trembled and split apart. A bony hand reached up from the yawning black abyss to fasten around her ankle. As it began to drag her down, Ellen woke up with a scream.

Of course, she’d known it was a dream, a perfectly natural reaction to everything that had happened today. The avalanche. Being trapped under the workbench. Finding that hand in the pool. She’d switched on the light and gone to the guest room, hoping to find Walker still awake, but he was gone.

Ellen shivered. The terror of the dream was still with her. Even though she’d turned on every light in the living room, vestiges of terror were difficult to dispel at this time of the night. Familiar objects like the mirror over the fireplace and her denim doll in the corner took on an eerie quality when the darkness closed in and there was nothing but the yellow glare of incandescent bulbs to vanquish it.

Ellen despised the night. It was the loneliest time and she’d always been lonely, even as a child, set apart at birth, the misfit in a long line of beautiful people. Her mother had wanted a golden-haired doll to dress up and show off to her friends. Instead, she’d ended up with a baby ostrich, too shy to curtsy and sing a song for the grown-ups, too clumsy to dance in patent leather shoes and a frilly dress, and too tall to cuddle on a lap and chuck under the chin. Ellen had been a misfit all her life and she was a misfit here, too. If there had been any doubt in her mind, Johnny had proven it.

Even though she tried not to think about it, Ellen’s mind turned back to the night, six months ago, when all her dreams had been shattered. And as she remembered everything in detail, it was exactly as if it were happening all over again.

Johnny arrived at eight with a bottle of champagne to celebrate Vegas Dolls’ new contract with Knock-offs, an upscale clothing chain with over two thousand shops. While Johnny opened the wine, Ellen went to get the lovely champagne glasses that had belonged to Aunt Charlotte. They were Waterford crystal and Ellen held her breath every time she washed them.

Johnny filled both glasses and lifted his in a toast. “You look different tonight, Babe. New dress?”

“Yes. Vanessa helped me pick it out.” Spots of color appeared in Ellen’s cheeks as Johnny looked at her appraisingly. She knew the dress was perfect, a pale blue designer silk that draped softly over her shoulders and transformed her sharp angles into an oriental mystery of curves. The saleswoman had sighed when she’d taken Ellen’s measurements. Her waist curved in as a woman’s should, but her hips were slim and boyish, and her bustline wasn’t really there at all. The designer had relied on quite a bit of padding.

“We’re a great team, Ellen.” Johnny touched the rim of his glass to hers and took a sip of champagne. “Getting excited about designing those new punk mannequins?”

Ellen nodded. Ecstatic was more like it. And just being with Johnny made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Perhaps she could compete with all those gorgeous showgirls after all, as long as she always dressed like this.

Johnny led her over to the couch, and draped his arm around her shoulders. Ellen shivered in anticipation and tried not to look impossibly eager. He’d been a perfect gentleman, escorting her to dinner or a show at least once a week and then bringing her back home after a friendly good night kiss. Ellen had heard enough rumors around town to know that the time would come when Johnny would want more than a kiss. Would it happen tonight?

“Your hair looks different, too.” Johnny reached out to touch it. “I like it this way. I never noticed those gold highlights before.”

As Ellen opened her mouth, she remembered Vanessa’s advice. “Thank you, Johnny,” she said. She was doing her best to learn what everyone called feminine wiles. There was no need for Johnny to know that she’d treated herself to gold highlights at the most expensive salon in town.

There was an expression in Johnny’s eyes she couldn’t quite read as he pulled her into his arms and kissed her. The kissing was wonderful, but she hoped he wouldn’t wrinkle her new dress. Of course, that was the reason she’d bought it, wasn’t it?

Johnny was breathing heavier now and his body pressed against hers. Ellen didn’t pull away. At last he was treating her like a woman. “So what do you think, Babe? Want to cement our permanent partnership in bed?”

Ellen took a deep breath, then met his eyes boldly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Johnny threw back his head and laughed. Then he picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bedroom.

Her clothes didn’t fall to the floor like rain. They had to be awkwardly unbuttoned and unclasped. And while the sight of his naked body thrilled her, she couldn’t help but notice that he wasn’t fully aroused. She told herself that this must be normal, that after all, he was over forty and he worked long hours. Only teenagers were in a state of perpetual readiness and she really ought to do something to help him, but she wasn’t sure exactly what it should be.