Nevertheless, the arrangement made me edgy. After twenty years of marriage, and several as a not-so-swinging single, new relationships just weren't that easy for me. But I enjoyed Ryan's company, so I'd decided to give it a whirl. To "date" him, as my sister would say.

Oh, God. Dating.

I had to admit that I found Ryan sexy as hel . Most women did. Wherever we went, I'd notice female eyes checking him out. Wondering, no doubt.

I was wondering, too. But at the moment that ship was stil in port, the engines stoked and ready to go. The Jel -O knees had just reconfirmed that.

Dinner out was definitely a better idea.

The phone rang as I was clearing the table.

"Mon Dieu, you're back." Deep, throaty English with a heavy French accent.

"Hi, Isabel e. What's up?"

Though I'd known Isabel e Cail é only two years, in that time we'd grown quite close. We'd met during a difficult time in my life. In the space of one bleak summer I was targeted by a violent psychopath, my best friend was murdered, and I was final y forced to face the reality of a failed marriage. In a display of self-indulgence, I had booked a single at a Club Med, and flown off to play tennis and overeat.

I'd met Isabel e on the flight to Nassau, and we were later paired for doubles. We won, discovered we were there for similar reasons, and passed an enjoyable week together. We'd been friends ever since.

"I didn't expect you until next week. I was going to leave a message about getting together, but since you are home, what about dinner tomorrow?"

I told her about Ryan.

"That one's a keeper, Tempe. You get tired of that chevalier you send him over and I'l give him something to think about. Why are you back early?"

I explained about the bombing.

"Ah, I read about that in La Presse. Is it just terribly gruesome?"

"The victims are not in good shape," I said.

"Les motards. If you ask me, these outlaw bikers get what they deserve."

Isabel e never lacked opinions, and was rarely hesitant to share them.

"The police should just let these gangsters blow each other up. Then we wouldn't have to look at their dirty bodies with filthy tattoos anymore. I mean, it's not like they're murdering babies."

"No," I agreed. "It's not."

The next morning Emily Anne Toussaint died while walking to her bal et lesson.

Chapter 4

Howard and Kit had arrived at seven, left Birdie, and continued on their way. Birdie was ignoring me and checking the condo for canine intruders when I left for the lab at eight to resume work on the bomb victims.

Emily Anne had arrived shortly after noon.