I was surprised to see Eileen watching at a window when I pulled into her driveway. She wore a robe undoubtedly designed by the same guy who'd dressed Elizabeth II for her coronation. I glanced at my watch: eight-thirty. I'd made great time. Still, the anxiety in Eileen's face was worrisome. I told myself I could spend a maximum of thirty minutes here before taking off to find Arthur's place. But it was important to check on Eileen, and comfort her if she needed it. If Todd was in one of his silent phases and Jack was cooking at the bistro, my friend could be desperate for adult conversation. I'd been there myself.

But Jack answered the door. He was certainly a handsome dude, and I wondered again - although I'd never asked Eileen - exactly what had brought the two of them together. Disheveled half-braided dark hair surrounded his pale, unshaven, impish-looking face. His lustrous dark eyes were as big as Bambi's. His well-built, slim-hipped torso was shown off to good advantage by a turtleneck and printed chefs pants. A voice deep in my reptilian brain announced that this guy could melt women as easily as he did butter.

"Enter, O famed culinary one," he said with a mischievous grin. "I've made you a pecan-sour-cream coffee cake."

I grinned back. No matter what people tell you, caterers do get hungry. Ravenous, in fact. Arch tramped up the beige wool-carpeted stairs toward Todd's room without any kind of farewell.

"Want to have an early lunch at Cinda's?" I called after him.

"No!" floated down the stairs.

"Meet me at Big Map at two, then, buddy!" I called up. A door slammed. At that point, I didn't really care whether he'd heard me or not. Still, sour-cream coffee cake would do for my sudden need-to-kill-emotional-pain-with-calories.

Eileen, wearing what I now saw was a quilted pink satin robe, appeared from the living room.

"Goldy!" she exclaimed as she clasped me tight. "We're so worried." Her pressure on my banged-up arm made me howl with pain. Eileen pulled away. "Oh, my God, you're hurt!"

"Just a little surface cut." I had to get to Arthur's, so I decided not to go into a detailed description of the van being hit.

"Eileen, why don't you let Goldy relax?" Jack implored her with those eyes.

"I will, I will," Eileen protested. "But I do need to talk to you." She hesitated and stared at my arm. Sympathy and her own desires were clearly in conflict. "I need to ask you what we should do." What to do? Hmm. I followed Eileen and Jack from the high-ceilinged foyer to their spacious kitchen featuring mauve, lilac, and lime green tiles. The decor was what a designer had thought was Southwestern; it reminded me of a giant Easter egg.