An older woman barreled through the French doors leading to the patio. Her hair was black and pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck. She wore dark red lipstick and plum eye shadow. Her gray silk suit firmly whispered designer original. Daisy knew it was Aunt Zena from the first moment. She was a big, handsome woman. Near seventy, Daisy guessed, and still going strong.

Zena hugged her nephew. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Steve returned the hug, then slid his arm around Daisy’s shoulders. “Aunt Zena, I’d like you to meet my friend Daisy Adams.”

“Daisy Adams, that name sounds so familiar. Are you a Republican?” she asked Daisy.

“No,” Daisy said, “I’m a graduate student.”

“Daisy Adams, Daisy Adams,” Zena repeated. “Oh my Lord, you’re the Dog Lady!”

A small crowd was forming behind Zena. “Is it really the Dog Lady?” someone asked. “It’s the Roach killer,” someone else exclaimed.

“I didn’t actually kill him,” Daisy murmured.

Zena clasped Daisy to her ample bosom. “This is so exciting. We need to make an announcement. I want everyone to know my nephew is dating the city’s leading crime-stopper.”

Daisy grabbed Steve by the lapel and mouthed the word “help.”

“Maybe we don’t want to make a public announcement just yet,” Steve suggested.

A flash went off, a minicam appeared, more people pressed into the dining room. The junior senator came forward to shake Daisy’s hand. “This is a real honor,” he said. “This country needs more people like you—people with a commitment to ridding our streets of drug dealers.”

“Thank you, but I was just driving along…”

Steve muscled his way through the group, pulling Daisy after him. He didn’t want Daisy to receive any more publicity. He didn’t want her made into a hero. He didn’t want her to become hot news. Someone was threatening her, and splashing her face across a TV screen again would only make things worse. He got her onto the patio and used his body to shield her from the people filtering out behind them. It was an effective device. This wasn’t a pushy mob. These people were used to rubbing elbows with politicians and minor celebrities; they were masters at waiting for the right moment, seizing it, and backing away.

Daisy didn’t mind the attention from the press. She figured that was their job, just as reporting traffic was her job. For a while she was news. She didn’t fully understand it, but it was okay. She knew it would fade.