Bess managed to close her mouth, but her eyes stayed riveted to the knife. In the overhead lights, it gleamed silver, bright as sudden death. She couldn’t say it was elegant. But it was fascinating, deathly fascinating. “Can I?”

With a shrug of her shoulders, Rosalie passed the weapon to her. “Don’t mess with the blade,” she warned. “It’s as sharp as it looks.”

Bess took a good grip on the handle, twisting her wrist this way and that, like a fencer. She wondered if Jade/Josie might carry one. She was already imagining a scene where the tormented Jade found the knife—maybe with the blade smeared with blood—in one of her practical handbags. No, her briefcase. Better.

“Have you ever—”

“Not yet.” Rosalie held out a hand to take it back. “But there’s always a first time.” She pressed the button, and the blade whisked away again. “So don’t loose any sleep over me.” After dropping the weapon back into her bag, she took out an atomizer and sprayed scent generously on her skin. The air bloomed with roses. “Couple more months, I’ll have enough put away. I’m going to be spending the winter in the Florida sunshine while you slog through dirty snow.” She rose, tugging her tight off-the-shoulder top provocatively down, so that the rise of her breasts swelled invitingly over it. “See you around.”

“Wait.” Bess scrambled through her own purse and came up with her mini recorder. “If it won’t bother your ethics, I thought you might use this.” At Rosalie’s wry glance, Bess’s cheeks heated. “I don’t mean to record that part. Just the streets, conversations with the other women, maybe a couple of, ah…transactions.”

“You’re the boss.” Taking the recorder, Rosalie slipped it away.

“Be careful,” Bess added, though she knew Rosalie would laugh.

She did, sending a last cocky look over her bare shoulder. “Girlfriend, I’m always careful.”

Still chuckling, Rosalie headed down the narrow corridor toward the freight elevator. She was already picturing the way Bess’s eyes would pop out when she listened to the tape and discovered that her “consultant” had recorded everything. The prospect of pulling such a fine joke had her grinning as the doors slid open. Her amusement died a quick death when Alex walked off.

While they eyed each other with mutual suspicion, Alex pressed two fingers to the Door Open button. “How’s the moonlighting going, Rosalie?”

“It passes the time.”

When she started past him, he raised an arm to block the elevator opening. “What do you know about Crystal LaRue?”

“I know she’s dead.” Rosalie fisted a hand on her hip, cocked it. “Something else you want?”

Alex let her see that her snide invitation only amused him. “What do you know about her before she was dead?”

“Nothing.” She would have given him the same answer if she’d been Crystal’s most intimate friend, but as it was, she was telling the simple truth. “I never met her. Heard she was new, didn’t have a man yet.”