Quinn shook his head and started to laugh.

"That good or that bad?"

Quinn looked up at his perpetually cheerful partner and wondered how much he dared tell him. Stan was not exactly famous for his tact. Plus, they had a long history of giving each other massive amounts of grief just for the sport of it.

"She's a real piece of work," Quinn said. "I thought at first she was writing the notes to herself. You know, to get out of having to do the column."

"Why would she want to do that?" Stanny-O narrowed his already beady eyes. "She's got quite the scam goin', don't she?"

"Yeah, but she's… " Quinn shrugged. "She's not what you'd think."

Stanny-O popped the last of the chocolate-covered mints into his mouth and swirled it around, thinking. "I've seen her on TV. She's a total biscuit. She never really struck me as the happy homemaker type, either. Is that what you're getting at?"

Quinn looked at him blankly for a moment. "Her heart's not in it. She hates it, really."

Stanny-O watched his partner carefully and straightened up in his chair. Something wasn't quite right about this exchange. "She told you all this, or this is just your take on the situation?"

"A little of both."

Stanny-O leaned his elbows on the desktop and rubbed a hand over his neatly trimmed goatee. A smile oozed across his face.

"So how hot is she in person, Stacey? On the standard one-to-ten scale."

Quinn shrugged. "I don't know. Five."

"You, my man, are lying." Stanny-O got up from his chair and came over to sit on the edge of his partner's desktop, his polyester dress slacks straining at the seams.

"Get your kielbasa off my work space." Quinn shoved him in the hip, but he didn't budge.

"Did you make it with her or something, Stacey? What's going on?" His face was wide with wonder now.

"God. Of course not." Quinn got up from his chair to get coffee just as his phone began to ring. Stanny-O waved him on magnanimously and picked it up, still smiling.

"District Eighteen, Detective Stacey Quinn's desk, may I help you?"

"My head still hurts."

Stanny-O pursed his lips and tried not to snicker. "I'm sorry to hear that, ma'am. Is there something the Chicago Police Department can do for you? We're here to serve and protect."

"I… uh… " The woman seemed confused. "This isn't Stacey Quinn, is it?"

"No. It's his partner, Stanley Oleskiewicz, but here he comes right now." He handed Quinn the phone. "I think it's her."

"Her who?"

"Horny Helen." Stanny-O doubled over in a laughing attack as Quinn ripped the phone from his hand. Quinn succeeded in shoving his partner off the desk and quickly turned his back to him.

"This is Quinn."

"Hi. It's Audie. Was that really your partner?"

"Unfortunately. How's the goose egg this morning?"

"Sore. Uh, I got another letter."

So this was a business call. Quinn had assumed it was going to be social.

The whole thing had ended rather awkwardly last night-she had refused to get checked out at the emergency room and left him standing in the middle of her building's underground parking garage. Not that he expected her to invite him up, but still…

"Did you read it?"

"I just finished reading it. It's awful."

"We'll be right over."

"No!" Audie nearly shouted. "Look, I'm sorry, Quinn, but can I just fax it to you? I feel very strange about what happened yesterday and I think you're a very… uh… unusual man, but I'm really not sure we should take this any further because I'm really not interested in-"

"Fingerprints, Miss Adams."

"Huh?"

"I need the original letter so we can look for fingerprints. That's why I wanted to come over."

The line was silent for a moment.

"Oh."

"But we can hash out that other part later." Quinn looked over his shoulder to see Stanny-O finally recovering from his laughing jag. "Are you at your office, Audie?"

"Yeah."

"Are your coworkers there?"

"Yeah, but-"

"Great. Keep everybody around. We'll be there in about fifteen minutes."

Audie's outfit fell somewhere between the proper pink suit jacket and the soccer uniform, Quinn decided. She was wearing a short black skirt and a gray silk blouse. Simple, and simply stunning on her.

Audie's hair was loose and wavy around her face, and she wore just a hint of a rich shade of lipstick. At the end of her long and shapely legs were pretty clear-polished toes in a pair of black leather sandals.

She nervously greeted Quinn and his partner at the door.

"Five my pimply Polish ass," Stanny-O whispered to Quinn as they entered the reception area.

Quinn and Audie orchestrated the introductions and Marjorie politely offered the detectives coffee.

Quinn caught Audie's eye and she looked away. He casually examined the place. Like all the other brownstones on Chestnut Street near Michigan Avenue, this onetime Victorian mansion had been converted into posh offices. It was decorated in subtle mauves and greens, and the furniture was a cheery floral print. A crystal bowl of fresh pink roses sat on a low table. The sunshine poured through a cozy set of bay windows.

Obviously, it had been the original Homey Helen's office-all over the walls of the reception area were photographs of Audie's mother posing with celebrities. There was Helen Adams with Mother Teresa. Helen Adams with Margaret Thatcher, Nancy Reagan, and Princess Diana.

In each of the photos, Helen Adams wore pink and looked poised, polished, and perfect.

Quinn checked out the rest of the place and spied through a set of wide paneled doors what seemed to be Audie's personal office. It was a freakin' mess.

"Thank you, ma'am," Stanny-O said to Marjorie as she handed him a delicate bone china cup and saucer. "This is a beautiful setup."

Quinn snickered at the sight of fine china in the grip of Stanley Oleskiewicz's sausagelike fingers.

"Oh, thank you, Detective," Marjorie said graciously, motioning to the sitting area. "Shall we all get comfortable?"

The group chatted casually for several minutes and then Marjorie explained how the Homey Helen office worked. Regular mail was delivered about ten every morning and went directly to her desk, where she sorted it. As managing director of Homey Helen Enterprises, Marjorie ran the office, handled all the fan mail forwarded from the Banner, and conducted research, scheduled public appearances, and generally kept the column going.

"She's been the backbone of the business since the beginning," Audie said, smiling at Marjorie. "She and my mom were college roommates. They came up with the idea for the column when I was about six."

Marjorie nodded demurely. "I was the business major and Helen was the English major-I was the brawn and she was the beauty."

Quinn grinned at Marjorie appreciatively. "I don't know about that," he said, noticing how the fine-boned older woman with pale blue eyes blushed under his compliment.

"At any rate," Marjorie continued, "we've managed to stumble along quite well this last year, everything considered." She smiled sadly at Audie, and Quinn watched as Audie grabbed the older woman's hand. Marjorie took a breath before she went on.

"I was quite pleased that Audie decided to keep it going, and I'm sure the sentiment is shared by her millions of readers."

Audie grinned politely but avoided Quinn's eyes.

"So you've been the first person to see all the letters, Miss Stoddard?" Stanny-O asked.

"Yes, although Griffin helps me go through the mail if it's particularly busy. I think he might have found one or two of them, didn't you?"

Griffin crossed a purple velvet leg over the opposite knee and jiggled his foot nervously.