A rather imposing, breathless woman, with her hair swept up in a bun and a notebook in her hand, dropped her purse on the floor. “I’m Mary Ruffner, a reporter with the New York World. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions about the conference.”

“Of course.” Nora led her to a table.

“Everything happens at once. My editor wants me to run over to Gramercy Park to the Settlers’ Club. Some guy who just got sprung from jail is filming a movie there, and the rumor is that someone was murdered in the club last night.” Mary laughed mirthlessly. “As long as he doesn’t expect me to spend the night there. I write about arts and entertainment.”

Nora’s stomach took a dive as her smile faded.

“Anything wrong, Mrs. Reilly?”

“No,” Nora said.

“Your daughter’s here too, isn’t she?”

“She’s in town.”

“I know that. Her picture was in our paper this morning.”

Now it was Nora’s turn to laugh mirthlessly.

“Is she at the convention?” Mary Ruffner continued.

“Actually, she’s working,” Nora said.

“On a case?”

“Well, yes, she’s working in New York, but I’m not at liberty to say on what.”

“I hope I get to interview her before the weekend’s over,” Mary said as she pulled the cap off her pen with her teeth.

Something tells me you will, Nora thought. For better or worse, something tells me you will.

20

Lydia sat propped up on one of her love seats, cordless phone in hand, calling all her lovelorn pups who had been present the night before. There had been nineteen of them. Not bad, she decided. She’d been having three parties a week since Valentine’s Day, and as an introductory offer, her “clients” had only had to pay twenty-five dollars a shot if they’d bought a package of four.

She had to admit she felt like she was stealing from some of them. Like the man who wore sandals with his suit and seemed to end every sentence with the phrase “and stuff like that.” Or the fortyish woman who hung on to her Snoopy purse all night, as though it were a security blanket. Actually, Lydia thought, it’s too bad those two didn’t hook up. There should be someone for everyone out there.

By the time she had finished making her calls, talking to some and leaving messages for others, ten had said they’d be glad to come by, a couple had told her they wanted their money back, and three more said they’d prefer to meet a new batch of people.

“Why would I want to come back tonight?” one guy had said. “Nobody there was my type. Isn’t the club’s big anniversary party going to have new people at it?”

“Yes,” Lydia had answered optimistically.

“I’ll see you then.”