Back downstairs, I hurried to the bar for a refill on my chardonnay. After a few calming gulps, I looked around and saw that Nurse Denise had shown up. She was standing awkwardly in a corner, clutching a cocktail. With her bushy hair and too-tight dress, she was way out of place among the sleek Beverly Hills fashionistas.

I followed her gaze to where Hal was standing, talking to Larkspur. Larkspur looked particularly lovely that day, her blond hair cascading onto the shoulders of her slim black suit. She and Hal were chatting casually, but you could tell by the way they were looking at each other that there was something going on between them. I saw it. And so did Denise, who glugged down her drink with alarming speed.

Poor Denise. If she’d killed SueEllen hoping to be the next Mrs. Hal Kingsley, she was in for a big disappointment.

“Those two aren’t wasting any time, are they?”

I turned to see Eduardo at my side.

“I don’t believe we’ve met,” he said, flashing me a devastating smile. “I’m Eduardo Jensen.”

He held out his hand and I shook it. In spite of myself, I felt my knees go weak. This was one stunning guy. That slicked back hair, those incredible cheekbones, and those amazing blue eyes that looked even bluer against his deep tan. Let me tell you, my G spot was jumping. But one of my major principles in life is to never fall for guys whose waistlines are smaller than mine, so I reined in my lust. Just barely.

“I’m Jaine Austen,” I managed to say.

“Love your books.”

I smiled weakly. If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard that line, I’d be independently wealthy and living in the south of France.

“So, how do you know the deceased?” he asked.

“I was helping SueEllen write a book.”

“Ah, yes. The book. Entertaining for Dummies, or whatever she was calling it. She could have called it Famous Recipes I Have Stolen.”

Another devastating smile.

“And you?” I asked. “How did you know SueEllen?”

I wanted to hear how he’d answer that one.

“I’m a friend of the family,” he said, smooth as silk. “Both Hal and SueEllen have been kind enough to buy some of my paintings.”

“Oh. So you’re an artist.”

“I try to be,” he said, shrugging his shoulders with false modesty.

“I’d love to see your work,” I said.

Not really. But I figured it was a good way to talk to him without raising his suspicions. I remembered how SueEllen had threatened Eduardo the night of Heidi’s party. How she swore she’d tell everyone his dirty secret. But SueEllen had been killed before she had a chance to open her mouth. Was Eduardo the one who’d silenced her? I intended to find out.

“Maybe I could stop by your studio,” I suggested.

“I’d like nothing better,” he said, oozing sexual innuendo.

He gave me his card, and I made a date to drop by his studio the following day.