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She tried to calm her breathing, but it was hard. “That’s different, then, but I still want to pound her.”

“I know, but later. Now let’s just listen.”

“What are you two talking about?”

Savich smiled at Candice Madigan. “I was just telling Sherlock that you looked pregnant to me. She insists you’re not, that you look too slender. But I can tell your stomach is out there. Who’s right?”

Candice immediately sucked in her stomach, taking two steps away from Savich. Then she realized what he’d done to her. She dropped her hands to her sides, straightened really tall, and shot a look toward her husband. He merely smiled at her. “Go ahead, Candice. After all, I don’t have a client for another twenty minutes. Feel free to talk about whatever.”

Candice Madigan walked to her husband, kissed him on the mouth, then turned to say to Lacey, “I’m not pregnant but I will be soon. You keep away from my husband, do you hear me? You haven’t seen mean until you’ve seen me mean.”

“Yes, I hear you,” Lacey said. Then she smiled. “You and Douglas planning a baby, then?”

“We will be soon. It’s none of your business. You’re a little gold-digging tart, just like your sister. Stay away from Douglas.”

“Oh, she will,” Savich said. “Now, Candice, how do you know so much about Belinda? She was killed seven years ago. You weren’t even around then.”

“I’m an investigative reporter. I looked up everything. I spoke to people who’d known her. She betrayed Douglas, over and over again. All the women in your crowd knew about it. With this Marlin Jones character? Why not? Again, it wouldn’t have been a problem for her to run into him at any one of the low-class bars she frequented.”

Savich pulled out his little black notebook and his ballpoint pen. “Could you give me some names, please?”

She turned stiller than Lot’s wife. “I did this last year. I don’t remember now.”

“Give Mr. Savich two names, Candice. Just two.”

“All right. Lancing Corruthers and Dorthea McDowell. They’re both rich and idle and know everything about everyone. They live right here in the city.”

Savich wrote down the names. “Thank you. Actually, I’m pleased that you could come up with even one name. I’m impressed.”

“I am too,” Douglas said.

“They knew all about her too,” she added, nodding toward Lacey.

“That should prove to be interesting,” Savich said, again taking hold of Lacey’s wrist. “You see, I’m hoping she’ll agree to marry me, once I ask her properly.” He paused a moment, then looked very worried. “I sure do hope they won’t tell me things that will change my mind about asking you. Were you a loose teenager, Sherlock? Will you corrupt me if I marry you?”

“I don’t think that Bobby Wellman could count as loose, do you?”

“Who’s Bobby Wellman?” Douglas asked.

Savich just shook his head.

“No one will say anything remotely questionable about Lacey,” Douglas said. “Look Candice, Lacey was only nineteen when Belinda died. She was even a bit on the backward side for her age. All she did was play the piano. I don’t think she ever even saw other people. She just saw her music. Now, tell me that was all a joke about you marrying him, Lacey.”

“He still has to ask me right and proper.”

“No!” Douglas stood now, leaning toward Lacey, and said, his voice rough and low, “Listen to me, Lacey. I’ve known you for a very long time. I don’t think you should marry this man. You can’t. It’s a very bad idea.”

“Why, Douglas?”

“Yes, Douglas, why?” Candice asked.

“I know his kind. He doesn’t care about you, Lacey. You’d just be another notch on his belt.”

Savich started whistling.

Everyone turned to stare at him. Lacey wanted to laugh, but she held it back.

“Sherlock Savich,” Savich said slowly, looking up at the ceiling, rolling the words on his tongue. “It has quite a ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Dammit, no, you can’t marry him, Lacey. You can’t. Just look at him, he’s one of those stupid bodybuilder types you see at the gym who are always staring at themselves in the mirror. Their biceps and pecs are all pumped up but their