“I’ll be sure to let her know you were thinking of her,” Blaire said. “Listen, Gordon. I was hoping to meet with you about some investments. I’d like more diversification in my portfolio, and I’m a little dissatisfied with my financial manager.”

His face became animated. She had his full attention now.

“Is that so? I’d be happy to look at your portfolio. I think you’ll find our firm knows how to strike just the right balance between risk and security . . .”

Blah, blah, blah. She tuned out the rest, impatient for him to wrap it up. Finally, he did, and she nodded.

“Great. How about if I come by Tuesday evening? Say around eight?”

He frowned. “Evening? I’m not typically at the office quite that late. Can you meet during the day?”

She tried her best to look regretful. “Sorry, but I’ve got interviews and PR obligations most of the week during business hours. I guess I’m spoiled, but my current guy has always worked around my schedule. One of the few things I like about him.”

He put a hand up. “It’s not that I mind, but it’s a whole thing with the security system at the office that far after hours.”

“How about if we meet at your house, then? After all, we’re old friends.” His shoulder jumped, and she wondered if it was a tic or just a reaction to her suggestion.

“Well, yes, I guess that will work.” He looked reluctant, and she wondered if he had something to hide or just wasn’t used to guests.

“Terrific.” She handed him a business card. “Email me the address, and I’ll see you there.”

She smiled. On Blaire’s list of suspects, thanks to his weird fixation on Kate, Gordon was number two—right after Simon, with his bullshit alibi.

Glancing around the room, she noticed the woman she’d seen at the funeral luncheon, now chatting with an older man. Dressed in a backless black evening gown that clung to her slender frame, she looked stunning and very much at ease. Blaire wondered who had invited her. Once the man had moved away, she walked over and, giving the woman her best smile, held out her hand.

“Hello, I’m Blaire Barrington.”

The woman appraised Blaire for a minute before answering coolly, “Nice to meet you. Sabrina Mitchell.” If she recognized Blaire’s name, she hid it well.

Blaire cocked her head. “Are you a friend of Kate’s?”

Giving her hair a toss, Sabrina returned Blaire’s stare. “No, I’m actually an old family friend of Simon’s. I was hoping to see him tonight, but he just let me know that Kate couldn’t pull it together to come. I thought about bailing too, but I’d already bought a new dress, so . . .”