Twenty minutes later, as they were debating whether or not to order, Carter arrived. "Sorry to keep you waiting, but I didn't expect another reunion quite this soon," he observed dryly as he joined them. He was now wearing jeans and a hooded sweatshirt.

"None of us did," Gordon Amory said in agreement. "Why don't you order a drink, and then I suggest we get down to the reason we're here now."

Carter nodded. He caught the waiter's eye and pointed to the martini Emerson was drinking. "Continue," he said to Gordon, his tone dry.

"Let me start by saying that after some consideration, I believe and hope that our concern for Laura may be unnecessary. I remember hearing that a few years ago she accepted an invitation to visit some big bucks guy, who shall be nameless, at his Palm Beach estate, and she reportedly left in the middle of a dinner party to go away with him on his private plane. That time, as far as anyone could gather, she didn't even bother to bring her own toothbrush, never mind her cosmetics."

"I don't think anyone returned to Stonecroft in a private plane," Robby Brent observed. "In fact, I think from the looks of some of them, they probably backpacked to get here."

"Come on, Robby," Jack Emerson protested. "A lot of our graduates have done mighty well. That's why quite a few of them have bought property around here for an eventual second home."

"Let's skip the sales pitch for tonight, Jack," Gordon said irritably. "Listen, you have big bucks, and you're the only one, as far as we know, who has a house in town and could have invited Laura to join you for your own quiet reunion."

Jack Emerson's already florid face darkened. "I hope that's supposed to be funny, Gordon."

"I don't want to displace Robby as our comedian in residence."

Gordon said as he helped himself to an olive from the dish the waiter had placed on the table. "Of course I was joking about you and Laura, but not about the sales pitch."

Jean decided it was time to try to redirect the conversation. "I left a message for Mark on his cell phone/' she said. "He called me back just before I came downstairs. If we haven't heard from Laura by tomorrow, he's going to rearrange his schedule and come back."

"He always had a thing for Laura when we were kids," Robby observed. "I wouldn't be surprised if he still does. He made it a point to sit next to her on the dais last night. He even changed place cards to make it happen."

So that's why he's rushing back, Jean thought, realizing she had read too much into his phone call. "Jeannie," he had said, "I want to believe that Laura is okay, but if anything has happened to her, it could mean that there is a terrible pattern to the loss of the girls at your lunch table. You've got to realize that."

And I assumed he was worrying about me, she thought. I was even thinking of telling him about Lily. Since he's a psychiatrist, I thought maybe he'd have some insight into what kind of person is contacting me about her.

It was a relief when the waiter, a slight, elderly man, began passing out menus. "May I tell you our specials for this evening?" he asked.

Robby looked up at the waiter with a hopeful smile. "Can't wait," he murmured.

"Filet mignon with mushrooms, filet of sole stuffed with crab-meat…"

When he had finished the recitation, Robby asked, "May I ask you a question?"

"Of course, sir."

"Is it a habit of this establishment to make last night's leftovers today's specials?"

"Oh, sir, I assure you," the waiter began, his voice flustered and apologetic, "I've been here forty years, and we're very proud of our cuisine."

"Never mind, never mind. Just a little humor to lighten the table talk. Jean, you first."

"The caesar salad and rack of lamb, medium-rare," Jean said quietly. Robby isn't just sarcastic, she thought; he's nasty and cruel. He likes to hurt people who can't strike back, people like Miss Bender, the math teacher at the dinner last night, and now this poor guy. He talks about Mark having a crush on Laura. But no one had a bigger crush on her than he did.

Suddenly, a disquieting thought occurred to her. Robby's made a lot of money now. He's famous. If he invited Laura to meet him somewhere, she would go, I know she would. Jean was aghast to realize that she was seriously considering the fact that Robby might have lured Laura away and then harmed her.

Jack Emerson was the last to order. As he handed the menu back to the waiter, he said, "I promised some friends that I'd drop in for a nightcap, so I think it would be a good idea to start discussing who we think Laura might have paid a lot of attention to over the weekend." He shot a glance at Gordon. "Besides you, of course, Gordie. You were at the top of her A-list."

Dear God, Jean thought, they'll all be at each other's throats if this keeps up. She turned to Carter Stewart. "Carter, why don't we start with you. Any suggestions?"

"I saw her talking a lot to Joel Nieman, better known as the Romeo who forgot half his lines in the school play. His wife was here only for the cocktail party and dinner Friday night, then went home. She's an executive with Target and was flying to Hong Kong Saturday morning."

"Don't they live somewhere around here, Jack?" Gordon asked.

"They live in Rye."

"That's not that far away."

"I was talking to Joel and his wife at the party Friday night/' Jean said. "He doesn't look at all like the kind of guy who would ask Laura to go home with him the minute his wife is out of town."

"He may not look like it, but I happen to know he's had a couple of girlfriends," Emerson said. "Also that he was damn near indicted for some shady deals his accounting firm was involved in. That's why we passed on making him an honoree."

"How about our missing honoree, Mark Fleischman?" Robby Brent asked. "He may be, as his introduction at the dinner quoted, 'tall, lanky, cheerful, funny, and wise,' but he also was hanging around Laura every minute he could. He broke his neck rushing to sit next to her on the bus to West Point."

Jack Emerson finished his martini and signaled the waiter for a refill. Then he raised his eyebrows. "Just occurred to me. Mark would have a place to invite Laura. I know for a fact that his father's out of town. I met Cliff Fleischman in the post office last week and asked him if he was coming to see his son honored. He told me he had longstanding plans to visit some friends in Chicago but that he'd give Mark a call. Maybe he offered him the house. Cliff won't be back till Tuesday."

"Then I think Mr. Fleischman must have changed his mind," Jean said. "Mark told me that he'd passed his old house and there were a lot of lights on. He didn't say anything about hearing from his father."

"Cliff Fleischman leaves a bunch of lights on whenever he's away," Emerson replied. "His house was burglarized when he was on vacation about ten years ago. He blamed it on the fact that it was so dark. He said it was a dead giveaway that there was no one home."

Gordon broke off a bread stick. "I got the feeling Mark was estranged from his father."

"He is, and I know why," Emerson said. "After Mark's mother died, his father gave up the housekeeper, and she came to work for us for a while. She was a real gossip and gave us the lowdown on the Fleischmans. Everybody knew that Dennis, the older son, was the apple of his mother's eye. She never got over losing him, and blamed Mark for the accident. The car was at the top of that long driveway, and Mark was always pestering Dennis to teach him to drive. Mark was only thirteen and wasn't allowed to start the car unless Dennis was with him. That afternoon he'd started it and then forgotten to put on the parking brake before he left the car. When the car started to roll down the hill, Dennis never saw it coming."