The way she deserved to be treated.

The way her critical father and deceitful boyfriend and every high-and-mighty boss should have treated her.

She closed the lid on the box and smoothed her palm over the satin finish of the wood.

Of course, there was one boss who’d treated her well. Sheriff Cox was the exception. His class and kindness and refreshing egalitarian attitude were commendable.

Too bad a man like him hadn’t come along sooner. That could have made a difference in the choices she’d made.

Or not.

It was too late to know for certain.

What mattered was that she’d taken control of her life and found her own path to self-esteem and happiness.

Even if she’d had to do some bad deeds along the way.

She picked up the scotch and finished it off, examining the intricate pattern cut with painstaking precision into the fragile glass of the Waterford tumbler.

It was hard to feel much remorse about the old folks. They’d been on their last legs anyway. But the decision to end Grace’s life had been more difficult.

Second thoughts were useless at this stage, however. A major relapse of flu should be setting in. How providential that she’d caught the bug at the perfect time. Sheriff Cox might suspect it was more than a virus, but he’d never be able to prove it. There would be no sunflower seeds lying around for anyone to find, nor any in Grace’s stomach, to tie her death to the others under investigation.

Eleanor slipped the ring off her finger, opened the box again, and set the piece of jewelry in its designated spot. Replaced it on her finger with a ruby-and-diamond number.

Ironic—and aggravating—how those innocuous seeds had caught Grace’s eye and fueled her suspicions. They had nothing to do with any of the deaths, other than acting as an additive to the salads she’d delivered so any of the highly toxic stray yew seeds among the greens wouldn’t draw unnecessary attention.

Eleanor wandered back to the bed and began folding the cocktail dresses, layering them with tissue in the suitcase to prevent wrinkles, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.

Her plan really was masterful, thanks to everything she’d learned by watching the stupid criminals who passed through the sheriff’s department every day and the inside knowledge she’d picked up about the workings of law enforcement.

Succeeding at crime was a simple matter. All you had to do was be smart, keep your ear to the ground, and watch for opportunities.

Like the day of the meal-delivery volunteers picnic at the reservoir, when she’d wandered away from the group and spotted Dave in a hot-and-heavy clinch while his comatose wife fought for her life.

A definite opportunity.

Thanks to those compromising photos—and the ones she’d taken after donning a disguise and following Dave and his lady friend to that inn, where her room offered a perfect line of sight to the gazebo—the whole idea for the fraud scheme had begun to percolate.