"First of all, Tom, I can't even entertain the idea that that accident was a deliberate hit-and-run. The interstate was very icy. I could barely see the truck in front of me. And I think I'd have noticed somebody tailing me all the way from Killdeer. I mean, I'm grateful to be alive, but trying to execute the kind of move we're talking about, under those conditions, could be suicide."

"Miss G. Please. It's not difficult to take precautions."

"Sure, yeah, okay, I'll be careful." What did I have to lose? I already had a messed-up TV career, a ton of debt, no business, a wrecked van, and two mysteriously dead men: a parole-board member and a truck driver. Speaking of which. "Look, I need to call Arthur. The doctor said I could drive if my arm wasn't bothering me. So I'd still like to meet with Arthur tomorrow to arrange my personal-chef work for his party."

"I knew it," Tom said resignedly. To demonstrate my resilience, I got up, zipped over to my kitchen computer, booted it, and searched for my notes on the assignment.

Tom shook his head. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

But I was already dialing. Arthur answered on the first ring.

"Thank God you called, Goldy." His tone was laced with mournful drama, as usual. "In the morning, I need you to be here by ten. I'll explain how I want things to go, and show you the layout of the kitchen before you start work. I've got dozens of callings to make about my wines - "

"Wait a sec," I interrupted as politely as I could. "Please, Arthur. I'm not sure I'll be able to be there by ten. There will be the ski traffic, and I have things to pack up, and I've got vehicle problems, because unfortunately I was in a car accident today - "

"But it's stopped snowing. You were in a car accident? For heaven's sake! There was an accident on the mountain today, guy was killed going down a closed black run. The Forest Service is closing Killdeer Mountain for a few hours in the morning to help the sheriff's department investigate it. That won't stop the ski traffic, unfortunately," he said mournfully. "A day for accidents. What a shame."

"Yes, indeed." I tried to make my tone noncommittal. "Maybe we can make our plans now, and you could just leave the key for me." I took a deep breath and waited for an explosion. I wasn't really expecting sympathy. I picked up the aspirin bottle and shook out a couple more. In Med Wives 101, we'd often told each other you could take up to six at a time. This was not advisable, medically speaking, but then again, being the wife of a medical student wasn't exactly advisable, either.

"I can't do that," Arthur replied, exasperated. "I live at 602 Elk Path in West Killdeer. Be here at ten. I want. . . I want the dishes you prepare to be almost done. Then I'll put on the finishing touches so my guests will think I slaved for hours."