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“Oh yes, I saw it all,” Senator Rothman said. “Mrs. Mazer, please close the door and see that I’m not disturbed.”

When the door was quietly and firmly closed, Senator John Rothman turned to Nick. He tried to smile at her, flanked by three FBI agents.

“It’s good to see you, Nicola. Like everyone else in the world, I saw your photo on television. It was a shock, as you can imagine.” He paused a moment, searching her face. “There was the fire in your condo. I was frantic but I couldn’t find you. You simply disappeared. I called the university. The dean told me you’d written a letter stating that you had a family emergency, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was a lie,” Nick said.

“I had no idea where to find you. I didn’t think it was a good idea to call the FBI and demand information about your whereabouts. And now you’ve come back. Why?”

“First of all, to tell you I’m sorry about Cleo.”

“Yes, I am, too. The thing is, some people believe I killed her, but I didn’t. I’m sure my lawyers think they’ve died and gone to heaven, they’re going to make so much money off this mess. Listen, I didn’t hurt anyone, Nicola.” His eyes never left her face. “I didn’t try to hurt you.”

Finally, he broke the moment, turning, when Savich said, “Senator, as Nick told you, I’m Agent Savich, this is Agent Sherlock, and Agent Carver. Since Nick helped us out on the murder cases in California, we’ve decided to help her out with her involvement in this particular mess.”

“It is a mess,” said John Rothman. He ran his fingers through his beautifully styled salt-and-pepper hair.

Dane, who’d said nothing, stood quietly behind Nick, eyeing this elegant aristocrat. He wanted to kick the man’s teeth down his throat.

“John,” Nick said, “do you remember that night I asked you how many women you killed?”

Dead silence.

“Yes, of course I would remember when the woman I love accuses me of being a serial killer. I assume all these Federal agents are familiar with what you think of me, Nicola?”

She nodded. She realized in that moment that she was now perfectly safe. No one could hurt her again. She drew herself up even taller.

“Did you know there was an attempt on my life in Los Angeles?”

“Of course not. How could I possibly know that?” He paused a moment, then said, “Should I have my lawyer present?”

“I don’t believe so,” Savich said. “Why don’t we all sit down and talk this over?”

The lovely pale brown brocade grouping was expensive and charming. The coffee served in the Georgian coffeepot was fresh and quite excellent. It was Nicola who served them. Dane saw that she was very comfortable in these surroundings, pouring the damned coffee from that exquisite silver coffeepot. He’d be willing to bet Paul Revere had made the thing. He didn’t know if he ever wanted to see Nick in the senator’s penthouse, damn that man’s sincere and honest eyes.

Dane sat forward, clasping his hands between his legs. “Nick has told us that your mother died in a car accident some three months after she confessed infidelity to your father. You were sixteen at the time. Is this correct?”

Rothman said slowly, “Why are you asking about my mother? It is absolutely none of your business. It’s no one’s business. It has nothing to do with anything.”

“Senator, we’re here as friends of Nick,” Sherlock said. “Of course, our superiors also know that we’re here. We rather hoped we could clear everything up today, informally.” She gave him her patented smile, which no human being alive could resist. He found himself smiling back at her, taking in her brilliant curly red hair. He said, “I appreciate that, Agent. But of course I haven’t killed anyone. I don’t know what’s going on, any more than you do. Nicola, I told you that my mother was dead, that she died in a car accident. But what does that have to do with anything? Why the questions about my mother?”

“It was in Cleo’s letter,” Nick said. “The one you tore out of my hand and hurled into the fireplace.”

Senator Rothman looked utterly bewildered.

“You do remember shredding the letter and throwing it into the fireplace,