The waiter arrived with our drinks. I stared at the martini glasses that were filled to a third of their capacity and wondered if the bartender had run out of mix. "Is this normal?" I asked Etienne.

"Is what normal?"

"The glasses aren't full." I mean, I'd knocked back more liquid out of the little plastic cup that held an adult dosage of Nyquil than was contained in the cocktail glass in front of me.

"They're full by Swiss standards."

I nodded. Definitely no alcoholism in Switzerland. I raised the glass to my lips, making a special effort not to accidentally swallow the whole thing in one sip. "About Grace and Helen," I continued. "They said they had the same plan for me that they had for Andy."

"Did you hear them say specifically that they were going to kill you? Did they use the words 'kill' or 'murder' or 'poison'?"

"Uh--not exactly. They said things like the jig would be up if I suspected anything. And then Helen said she wished Andy had suffered more. And Grace said Lucille had been the brains of the outfit. And Helen said Grace had a roll of fat at her waist."

"And you put all the pieces together and concluded they're going to kill you."

"Well, what would you conclude?"

"From that conversation? I would conclude that Grace needs to be on a salad diet."

"You didn't hear Grace's voice. It was really sinister. Especially when she mentioned my name."

"I'm afraid we have no law against saying someone's name in a sinister voice. Grace or Helen will have to threaten you with bodily harm before I can make a move, Emily. I'm sorry."

"Okay. But when I end up at the bottom of a cliff like Shirley Angowski, don't say I didn't warn you."

"There's still a chance Ms. Angowski's death was accidental. We've located her camera bag, but it's wedged between two rocks halfway down a chasm. The climbing team won't be able to retrieve it until tomorrow. If neither Grace's nor Helen's fingerprints appear on the bag, perhaps that will calm your fears." He lifted my hand and pressed his mouth gently to the inside of my wrist. I could feel my pulse gallop wildly. "You didn't overhear them say they pushed Ms. Angowski off the cliff, did you?"

I watched his mouth whisper across my flesh, causing gooseflesh to rise on my arms. "Unh-uh."

"You didn't hear them say they poisoned Mr. Simon, did you?"

I shook my head.

"Then for the moment, my hands are tied."

If his hands were tied, then whose forefinger was tracing the neckline of my bodice, dipping tantalizingly beneath the border and lingering at the place where my bosom swelled above the cloth? Unh. His eyes were so hot on my mouth, I thought my lips might burst into flames. He inched closer. He cupped his hand around the back of my neck and drew me to him, then pressed his lips against the corner of my mouth. "Your dress is driving me insane. If we were alone right now, you'd be up on this table, and I'd be peeling the clothes from your body."