When eleven o‘clock came and went and the phone didn’t ring, Lucy was relieved. Although the house was cleaner than it had been in months, every surface gleaming and twinkling in the bright winter sunlight, she knew it was largely an illusion. Decades’ worth of dust was packed into every crack and seam, impossible even for the vacuum to suck out. She washed her hands and face, combed her hair, and carefully applied lipstick and eyeliner. Her face in the mirror’ looked the same as it had yesterday, but she felt different somehow. She remembered hearing as a teenager that once you lost your virginity it showed in your face. When she had finally gone all the way with an earnest second-string soccer player during freshman year of college, she was both relieved and disappointed that she couldn’t see any change in her features. Grabbing her bag and keys, she decided to take Sara out for lunch at Jake’s Donut Shop. It would be a treat for Sara, and she wanted to get away from the telephone for a while.

The next morning the phone rang promptly at nine-thirty. No matter what she might think of the characters who advertised their services in Modern Mercenary, Lucy had to admit they were certainly punctual. They must consult their field watches frequently, she thought.

“This is Combat Veteran, answering your note,” said the voice in the tone of one reporting for duty. “I am ready to go into action anytime, anywhere in the world. Asia, Africa, Latin America are all no problem for me.”

“That’s certainly good to know,” Lucy said, impressed. “This job is in Maine.”

“Maine! You must be crazy, lady. Maine in the winter! Poor tactics, extremely poor. Don’t you know what happened to Napoleon in Russia?”

Lucy smiled as she replaced the receiver and pulled on a pair of rubber gloves. She reached for the oven cleaner and got to work. Half an hour later she was closing the door on a spotless oven when the phone rang. The voice on the other end was warm and reassuring.

“This is Cool Professional, answering your letter.”

“Terrific,” said Lucy. “I’m looking for someone to kill my husband.”

“I’ll want fifty thousand dollars. Twenty-five up front, and twenty-five afterward. Cash. I don’t wait for insurance payoffs. Send me his name and address, a picture, and his schedule.”

“As simple as that?”

“Absolutely. Perhaps you’d like to think about it for a while?” he asked courteously. “Maybe you can work something out.”

“No, I’ve made up my mind.”

“Fine.”

“Just a minute,” said Lucy. “Would you answer just one question for me? Have you ever killed anybody in Tinker’s Cove, Maine?”

“I’ve never even heard of Tinker’s Cove,” said the voice.

Lucy believed him. Just because he was a killer didn’t mean he was a liar, too.

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY