So far, it didn’t sound like much of an indictment of Marty.

“And?” I prompted.

“And there’s a Ralph’s supermarket right next door. When I was coming out of Best Buy, I saw Marty coming out of Ralph’s.”

“Are you sure it was him?”

“I’m positive.”

“He didn’t see me, though, and I didn’t say hello. I was in a rush, and I didn’t want to stop and talk.”

“So he couldn’t have been down in Laguna that afternoon.”

“Nope. He was in town, all right. It must’ve been about three o’clock. And he was coming out of the supermarket.”

“Perhaps with a bottle of peanut oil.”

Pam nodded eagerly. “He had plenty of time to sneak back home and doctor the guacamole while Rochelle was preoccupied with the plumbers or the building inspector.”

Great. I had an eyewitness who could prove Marty Meyers was in town the day of the murder.

“Will you call the cops and tell them what you told me?”

“The minute I get home,” she assured me.

We spent the rest of the afternoon celebrating our new jobs with an obscenely fattening lunch and another bottle of champagne. I told her about my gala party at the Stratford that night, and she told me about all the things she was going to buy with her residual checks.

We lingered over our flourless chocolate cake and brownie à la mode for hours. By the time we left, the staff was setting up for dinner.

I drove home a happy woman, full of champagne, chocolate, and—most important—hope.

(Okay, most important was chocolate, but hope was a close second.)

By the time I got home, I had less than an hour to get ready for the Union National gala. If I hurried, I could squeeze in a quick soak in the tub.

I whipped out my glamorous new gown from its plastic garment bag and gasped in dismay. After an afternoon in the trunk of my car, it had wrinkled badly.

Oh, well. No problem. I’d just use the steam from my bath to smooth out those pesky creases.

I ran my bath water so it was nice and steamy, adding my favorite strawberry-scented bath oil. Then I hung the dress from the shower curtain rod and dashed to the bedroom to get undressed.

I tossed off my clothes with the carefree abandon of a Girls Gone Wild coed. It was finally sinking in that I’d actually landed the job at Union National Bank. Before long I’d be bringing home forty big ones a year! At long last, I’d be able to take my checking account off life support!