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   We all applauded.

   "It's your junk," I said, stepping back (but not too

quickly) to admire it all. "I couldn't have done it without everyone's help." I smiled at Monsieur and the rest of them. "It's gorgeous."

   "Nah. You're gorgeous. Even with that cast on your arm." Hank gave me a gap-toothed grin. "This place . . ." He sighed with contentment. "Thank goodness, this place finally looks like home again."

   "You did this? All of you?" Jim's astonishment might be complete, but I could tell he wasn't totally convinced. He turned a skeptical eye on me. "Do you need to go back to the hospital to have your head looked at again, woman? What were you thinking? This isn't the place we envisioned."

   "No. It isn't. But the place we envisioned wasn't a place that made you happy. You told me so yourself. Besides, it was the least I could do."

   "All this, just for saving her life!" Charlie slapped a hand against the bar and laughed.

   "Not just for saving my life." I smiled up at Jim. The old Annie would have been embarrassed to lay her emotions out on the table, especially in front of Charlie, Hank, and Larry and the rest of them. Not to mention Jim. But I was a new Annie. Or at least I was trying to be. Just so he'd know it, I gave Jim a hug. "For being there for me. For being there with me."

   His grin never faded. "Then you'll be happy to know that I've made some decisions about Bellywasher's, too." Like he was making a speech, Jim cleared his throat. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and we faced our friends. "We're closed on Mondays, you all know that. So after Christmas, we'll be starting something new. Every Monday night." He reached in his pocket for a piece of paper, unfolded it, and handed it to me.

   I looked at the crest like a coat of arms at the top of the page. Instead of the usual charging lions and crowns, this crest had a chef 's hat, a spatula, and some vegetables on it.

   "Bellywasher's Academy." I read the words under the crest. "A cooking school?"

Jim's eyes glinted. "What do you think?"

   "I think . . ." Quickly, I read over the information on the flyer. It was all about providing hands-on opportunities to create delicious meals using the freshest ingredients, and about sitting down after every class and enjoying the food and friendship with fellow classmates. "I think it's brilliant!"

   "Will it fit into your business plan, do you think?"

   "Will it make you happy?"

   His smile inched up a notch.

   It was the only answer I needed. "Then we'll make it fit with our business plan," I told him.

   Jim's smile softened. "I miss teaching," he said, and he looked at Monsieur. "This will give me the chance to keep my fingers in it, so to speak, and still keep the restaurant going. It will give Marc and Damien experience at being instructors, too."

   "And we'll get to sample." Charlie applauded.

   "It's perfect." Jim pulled me closer and kissed me. Through the ringing that started up all over again inside my head, I heard more applause. "All because of you."

   "Not perfect. Not yet." I'd saved the biggest surprise for last. Taking it slow and easy, I untangled myself from Jim and went around the bar to the new menu board we'd installed that morning. There was a tablecloth covering it, and I whisked it off and watched Jim's eyes light up.

   "Today's hot dog special!" He punched a fist into the air. "Yes! Bellywasher's is back."

   We were all still hooting and laughing and applauding when the front door opened. Eve and Tyler were standing outside. One look, and I knew this was a chance meeting.

   As if he'd just bitten into a sour apple, Tyler's mouth was puckered. And Eve? She had the same little grin on her face that had taken up permanent residence ever since Doug proposed. Only it was brighter than ever. I had not one scrap of doubt that this was for Tyler's benefit. I also didn't doubt that he knew it. Of course, he would sooner have been boiled in oil than admit that it was driving him crazy.

   His shoulders rigid, Tyler stepped back to let Eve walk into the restaurant first. She knew what I'd been planning to do that morning, of course, and she breezed inside, glanced around, and nodded her approval. Tyler stepped inside after her, closed the door, and stopped right there.

   "Looks like I'm interrupting a party," he said.

   "There's so much to celebrate these days," Eve cooed.

   "And it's just the first of many celebrations around here." Jim smiled in my direction. "What can we do for you, Lieutenant?"

   "You could get me a cup of coffee." Nobody had chutzpah like Tyler had chutzpah. He looked right at Eve when he said it. She ignored him, but Heidi didn't. While she went into the kitchen, Tyler chafed his hands together. "Just thought I'd stop in," he said, "to wrap things up."

   After the disaster at the fund-raiser, Eve was convinced she needed a deep pore cleansing and her hair an intense oil treatment. Her skin glowed, and her hair was sleeker and glossier than ever. She tossed her head. "Or maybe, Tyler honey, you were just hoping for the chance to see me again. You know, before I'm officially Mrs. Senator Douglas Mercy."

   Tyler did not grace this comment with a reply. He pulled out his notebook, and when Heidi arrived with the coffee and set it on the table nearest to where Tyler stood, he sat down and got to work.

   "Dr. Mercy has been hospitalized and is being kept under close observation," he said.

   "And isn't that a shame." Eve slipped out of her coat. She was wearing her brown suede skirt along with an ivory silk blouse and the diamond ring—it was as big as my apartment, I swear—that she and Doug had purchased only the day before. She stepped far enough away from the table so Tyler couldn't fail to get a good look at her. "The good news, of course, is that the whole crazy daughter-in-law thing doesn't seem to be hurting Doug's political standing. He's always had a concern for the mentally ill."

   "Except that this mentally ill person tried to kill Annie." Tyler didn't need to point this out to Eve, who already felt bad enough that her future daughter-in-law had nearly murdered her best friend. Of course, that's exactly why he'd mentioned it. "We found the gun," he added, looking past Eve to where I stood. "The ballistics match. Lorraine Mercy is definitely the one who took the potshots at you outside the restaurant. Lucky for you she was in a moving vehicle. I've talked to the folks over at her country club. She's a champion skeet shooter. They say she has a dead-eye aim."

   "And all this because she didn't want anyone to know about her husband's affair with Sarah." I shook my head— carefully. "It's really sad, isn't it? She's a brilliant woman. She had an impressive career and a successful business."

   "And, Dougy Mercy? We've learned that he's had a string of these affairs." Tyler supplied the information. "As long as he was discreet, Lorraine never cared. But this time, you two . . ." He barely spared Eve a look before he turned back to me. "You two might have ruined all that. You found out about Sarah and Dougy, and she was convinced that was going to hurt Dougy's image and his chance to follow in his father's footsteps." The smile Tyler aimed at Eve was as sleek as a sharpened knife. "In the senate, Eve, honey, not with you."

   I sidestepped the sarcasm. Eve could give as good as she got, and I didn't have the energy to get tangled in the Eve versus Tyler mess. "And do you think she killed Dylan, too?" I'd been trying to think my way through this part of the mystery ever since I heard about Dylan's death.

   This time, Tyler didn't even bother to glance at Eve. He kept his eyes right on me. "He was investigating Sarah's death, too, and Lorraine must have known that meant the truth was going to come out. A news reporter was even more of a threat than you. She had to kill him."

   "But she couldn't have, could she?" I tipped my head, thinking this through. "Killed him, I mean. Lorraine was at the fund-raiser."

   "Coroner's not exactly sure about time of death," Tyler said. "Monroe could have been dead long before the fundraiser ever started. And we already know Lorraine was a crack shot, so there's no problem there." Tyler narrowed his eyes and studied me. "You don't look convinced."

   Didn't I? I chewed over the thought and realized that for once in his life, Tyler was right. I dropped into the chair across from his. "You think she killed Sarah?"

   "Do you?"

   I knew better than to be fooled into thinking Tyler might actually be asking my opinion, detective to detective.

   "Why didn't she admit it?" I asked Tyler.

   He, of course, didn't have an answer to this, but fortunately, Tyler didn't have to worry that anyone would think less of him because of it. Before he could say a word, Eve's cell phone rang. She answered it, listened, and smiled.

   "Uh-huh. Yes. I understand." I knew something important was up because Eve was using her best beauty pageant voice and her thickest Southern accent. "Of course. We'd be honored. We'll be there."

   Before she'd ever hung up the phone, she was across the room and pulling me into a hug. "That was the producer from Oprah," Eve said, laughing. "They've invited me and Doug and Doc to Chicago. They're calling Doc a national hero. And doing the show live in his honor. We're all going to be on TV tomorrow!"

          This was news to me, because Eve didn't look nervous. In fact, in a pink suit and a choker that matched Doc's collar (I hoped hers was rhinestones), she looked like a million bucks. She set Doc's carrier down on the floor outside my Bellywasher's office. "I had to stop and see you before I left for the airport, Annie. Doug is used to this kind of publicity, but me . . ." She squealed and jumped up and down. "I feel like I'm gonna burst!"

   "You'll do fine. Really." It was early, and Bellywasher's wasn't open yet. I'd stopped in early on my way to the bank to catch up on some of the work I'd left undone, thanks to my hospital stay and recuperation. As it happened, it worked out perfectly, because Eve and I just had to see each other before she left for Chicago, and it was more convenient for Doug to pick her up in Alexandria. Perfect, all the way around.

   "I'll be watching," I told Eve. "Pioneer Savings and Loan or no Pioneer Savings and Loan. I already called my supervisor and told her I'd be taking my lunch break late today. Just in time for Oprah."

   "I wish you could come, too." Eve sighed. "It would be so much fun."

   "But more romantic if it's just you and the senator."

   She blushed. "I'm nuts about him, Annie," she said. She dug around in her Kate Spade bag and made a face. "He may not be so nuts about me if he realizes I left my driver's license at home."

   "Here." Eve had her raincoat over her arm, and I took it from her so that she could look through her purse more easily. She unloaded her wallet, a comb, a compact, and three tubes of lipstick, then came up smiling.

   "Got it!" She held up her driver's license. "And I've got what I need for Doc, too. I think. I hope." She had a small package of dog treats in her purse, a new chew toy, and a tin of doggy breath mints. She bobbled them in one hand.

   "You know, there's plenty of room in Doc's carrier for all this stuff." I took it all from her, and while she worked on getting her things back into her purse, I stepped into the restaurant. There was a snap-to-close compartment on the top of the carrier, and I opened it. "Right in here," I said.

   Except that there was already something in there.

   I peered at the eight-by-ten black-and-white photograph.

   It showed two men on a park bench, their heads bent toward each other, deep in conversation. The man on the left was handing a thick manila envelope to the man on the right.

   The man on the right was Douglas Mercy.

   The man handing the senator the envelope looked vaguely familiar. He was a hefty guy with heavy jowls, a wide nose, and eyes that were too small for his face. The hand in which he held the envelope was as big as a ham. His fingers looked like fat pork sausages.

   Ivan Gystanovich. I recognized the man who owned our linen service company—who was also reportedly the head of the Russian mob in the area—from the picture Eve had once pointed out in the newspaper.

   And the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place, along with the truth that had been staring me in the face since the night we found Sarah's body in the bathtub. My heartbeat sped to an improbable rate. My head spun, worse than it had when I had the concussion.

   I stared at the photo, wondering how to break the news to Eve, and oblivious to where I was and what was going on around me.

   Too bad.

   It meant that when the front door opened and Senator Douglas Mercy walked in, I wasn't ready for him.

   "Good morning!"

   At the sound of the senator's voice, I jumped. I hid the photograph I was still holding behind my back.

   "Is Eve here? Is she ready?"

   My mouth opened and closed in response to the senator's questions, but I couldn't get any sound out.

   "She is going to Chicago with me, isn't she?"

   I managed an anaemic laugh and closed in on the senator. "She changed her mind. She's too nervous. She says she just couldn't do it. She—"

   "Annie, what in the world are you talking about?"

   Eve came up behind me. "You're talking crazy, girl! Of course I'm going to Chicago. And what is that you're holding behind your back?"

   Before I could react, Eve snatched the photo out of my hands.

   My formerly racing heartbeat stopped cold; I swear it did. The blood drained from my face. By the time I spun to warn Eve to keep quiet, it was already too late.