She was wearing an old-fashioned white nurse’s uniform, white stockings, and low white pumps. Her blond hair was pulled back neatly and a nurse’s cap sat on top of her head. Over the dress she was wearing a dark blue thigh-length cape with four brass buttons that fastened at the neck. She tossed one side of the cape back over her shoulder, revealing its red lining and also the fact that her white dress was splattered with blood.

Archie aimed his weapon at the center of her face. “There you are,” he said.

She gave him a ravishing smile and sauntered forward toward him, hips swinging. Archie fought to keep his weapon trained at her head, even as he darted his eyes from the sights to take in what was coming at him. She was covered in blood. Arcs of arterial spray decorated the dress from the hem to the collar. As she got closer, he saw a fine spray of red on her neck, chest, and cheek. Archie’s mind went to his protection detail outside and his stomach clenched. He had been a fool to tell Henry that she only killed when she had to. She had killed again. And she had done it with relish.

“Don’t worry,” Gretchen said, waving a French-manicured hand at the blood. Her eyes were bright. “It’s fake.”

Archie lowered the gun from her head down her neck to her chest, where the white dress was spattered with red. Now that he looked more closely, the color of the blood was a bit too orange, a bit too shiny.

Gretchen tossed one corner of her cape over her shoulder jauntily, showing off the red lining. “Happy Halloween,” she said.

Ginger put her ears back and trotted over next to Archie.

“You’re in costume,” Archie said slowly, flabbergasted.

“Tell me the truth,” Gretchen said, frowning and holding her arms out at her sides to display her ensemble. “Too slutty?”

Sometimes Archie was certain that she actually was quite insane. “Your sense of humor escapes me,” he said.