"Nothing but net, baby," she said with a smile.

Russell stared at her. He had that pinched look of disapproval on his aristocratic face, the look that had made her cringe when they'd been a couple-the one that made her cringe still.

"Mind if I smoke?" Audie opened her desk drawer and pulled out a pack of Merit Lights. "I'm down to about three cigarettes a week. Isn't that great? For some reason I'm desperate for one at the moment."

Audie eyed him through the smoke, noting with satisfaction the subtle change in his face. She'd succeeded in making him just plain angry now.

Russell Ketchum, partner in Ketchum amp; Clinton Entertainment Law, Inc., was an attractive man by anyone's standards, with those cool eyes and dark hair and fine bones. Audie once had found him terribly attractive-right up until she found him in bed with a paralegal named Megan Peterson. Then it had disintegrated into weeks of begging for forgiveness and another chance. He even said he loved her! What a mess! What a joke!

She knew she owed him a debt, however. Thanks to the Russell Ketchum debacle, she'd sworn off men entirely, and it had been the most peaceful six months in memory.

After just a few puffs, she ground down the cigarette in the ashtray and picked little flakes of tobacco off her tongue. "Yuck. I really don't even like these things anymore."

"How marvelous for you." Russell pulled a legal-sized folder from his briefcase, a pained expression on his face. "It's just a standard extension, another three years with the same thirty percent signing bonus your mother received and a ten percent increase in syndication fees. I've already got it drawn up, and all you need to do is sign."

Audie flashed her eyes at him. "You mean you haven't learned to forge my signature yet?" She laughed loudly. "Why not? You do everything else!"

A polite tap was heard at the door, and Marjorie carried in a tray of chicken club sandwiches, coleslaw, and more iced tea. She delivered the goods and left after a few friendly words for Russell and an understanding smile for Audie.

Audie's hunger took precedence over her anger and she reached for a sandwich. "Look. I'll have to think about it, Russell. Just leave it here."

"There's nothing to think about and you can't sit on it, Audie. You don't have time."

"I won't sit on it." She took a huge bite and closed her eyes in pleasure. "I was starving. You want a sandwich?"

"No. I don't want a sandwich. I want you to sign the damn contract." Russell rose and took the file to the credenza below the bay window. He pushed aside a stack of newspapers to find a place for it. "Don't forget, Audie."

"I won't," she said, her mouth full. "Thanks for stopping by."

Russell had his hand on the doorknob but turned to her. "The detective said somebody's been sending you threatening notes for a year. How come you never told me, Audie?"

She reached for the coleslaw. "I didn't think it was a big deal. Griffin finally convinced me to call the police."

Russell chuckled. "Ah, yes, Griffin Nash-your adviser and moral compass."

"At least I have one," she snapped.

He smiled sadly. "Bye, Audie. I'll call you next week to remind you about the contract."

"Later," she said, not looking up.

August 27

Dear Homey Helen:

Have you ever noticed how some stains just never come out, no matter how hard you scrub? I think you owe your readers the truth. I think you should tell them that not everything can be made nice and tidy, that some things never come out right-in the wash or in life.

Perhaps I'm just bitter.

Fondly,

Your most loyal fan.

PS: I so enjoyed your tip on how to remove furniture indentations from deep pile carpet.

"At home? This came to your home address?" Quinn's frown lines deepened as he went from Audie's face to Stanny-O's.

"It was in my mailbox last night."

"Why didn't you call me?"

"I… uh, you were off duty."

"You've got my card. You call me anytime, all right?" Quinn made sure she saw that he meant it.

She nodded.

"I don't get it." Stanny-O rose from his desk and held an open box of candy under Audie's nose. "The guy threatens to drop you in the Bass-O-Matic with the last letter, then gets all philosophical about it in this one. Care for a mint?"

"Wow! Yes!" She grabbed a Frango Mint and tossed it in her mouth, feeling the chocolate melt on the back of her tongue.

"Another?"

"Sure! Thanks, Stanny-O." She smiled at him until she saw the surprise in his small blue eyes. "I'm sorry, Detective. I heard Quinn call you that."

"Ah, no problem, Audie." He grinned at her. "One more?"

She nodded happily and snapped another mint from the box. Stanny-O seemed quite pleased with himself.

"Hey, Willy Wonka, any report from the state police lab yet?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah. All of them are off a midline ink-jet printer, nothing fancy, nothing high-powered. Like from a home office kind of setup, one of the major brands. Nothing unusual that would make it traceable."

Quinn nodded. "And where are we on fingerprints?"

Stanny-O looked down at a page of handwritten notes. "Griffin Nash, Marjorie Stoddard, Audie here, we got Tim Burke's on file, along with Will Dalton, Kyle Singer, and Darren Billings, who apparently ran with a bad crowd as a juvenile. And we had Mr. Russell Ketchum come in. He didn't like getting his hands dirty, by the way."

"Little late for that," Audie mumbled to herself.

Quinn heard her and raised his eyebrows in amusement. "We had a nice long visit with Mr. Ketchum last evening," he said.

"You going to arrest him?" Audie looked hopeful.

"Nah," Stanny-O said. "Being an asshole lawyer isn't a chargeable offense last time I looked. Besides, we can't seem to come up with a reason he'd do this. I mean, what would Russell Ketchum have to gain if you got scared and quit the family business?"

Audie looked at both the detectives. "Nothing. He'd actually lose quite a bit, personally and for the law firm. Homey Helen has always been one of their biggest cash cows."

"Exactly," Stanny-O said. "So, we'll put him on the back burner."

"Thanks for bringing this in," Quinn said, placing the latest note inside a manila envelope. He rose off his desktop and cupped her elbow. "I'll walk you to your car, OK?"

"Sure-" Quinn was already hustling her across the room, his palm now flat against the small of her back. "Bye, Stanny-O."

"See ya," he replied.

Quinn spotted her Carrera 911 in the parking lot without much trouble, and they walked together toward the car. He put his hand on her upper arm as she opened the driver's side door.

"What are your plans today?" Quinn asked.

Audie shrugged a little. "Stuff at the office. I thought I'd go for a run this afternoon after lunch. Then I've got a book signing and talk at the Newberry Library tonight."

"Where do you run?"

She pursed her lips. " Lincoln Park. Why?"

"Today you've got a partner."

"Quinn, I don't think-"

He very softly brushed his knuckles across her cheek, and the jolt of his touch made her eyes fly wide.

"He knows where you live, Audie, and my commander doesn't want another Homey Helen getting hurt on our watch-bad for the city's image and all. End of discussion."

He dropped his hand, but the whole side of Audie's face tingled. She looked into green eyes filled with determination-and concern-and she sighed.

"Am I right in assuming that if I tell you to go to hell you'll just follow me anyway?"