“Perfect sense, Elizabeth. I’ll call you when I have something worth reporting.”

Lizzie didn’t feel silly at all when she made little kissing noises into the phone; nor did Cricket when he returned them.

The smile stayed with Lizzie as she made her way to the bathroom to apply makeup she didn’t need. Brush in hand, she did a few artful swirls with it, and the silvery fall of hair completed Lizzie’s look for the day.

The black leather suit was so soft, so buttery, so thin, it felt like a second skin. Lizzie whirled and twirled in front of the mirror a few times to make sure there were no flaws anywhere. There weren’t. Shoes. Shoes were always a problem. She had tons of shoes, loved, just loved, shoes. She wished she had a conveyor belt like Aaron Spelling had had in his house so she could press a button and all her shoes would circle around her until she found the pair that she wanted. She looked down at the shoe trees on the floor and the shoe bags hanging on the closet door until she finally decided on a pair of stilettos with pointy toes that made her legs look like those of a Vegas dancer.

Maggie Spritzer knew something was going on outside her office. Something other than the clacking computer keys and the muted sound of twenty different voices all talking at the same time. And then she smelled Lizzie Fox’s perfume, which, for some reason, always seemed to arrive before the lawyer appeared in person. It was a heady scent, unlike anything she’d ever smelled. When she’d asked Lizzie, the lawyer had replied that it was a mixture she’d had made up in Paris just for her. Lizzie had gone on to say she had powder, lotion, shampoo, and bath salts all with the same fragrance. “I call it ‘Me.’” Then she’d giggled and told Maggie that Cosmo Cricket claimed to get drunk on the intoxicating scent.

Maggie couldn’t help but wonder if Ted Robinson would ever say anything like that to her. As long as she smelled like anything flavored with vanilla, it worked for him. She sighed mightily as she got up to hug Lizzie.

“Good God, lady, where are you going? You look…I don’t know a word to describe you, and I’m a damn journalist. Like ten million bucks!”

“To East Coast Savings Bank to see Douglas Sooner. Listen, Maggie,” Lizzie said as she closed the door behind her, “I was on the phone with Cosmo a little while ago, and he seems to think some of the credit card officials might have a history of some kind in Vegas. What we do with that information is something I’m not sure about yet. Want to go to lunch?”

“Yes, yes, yes! A few weeks ago, a new restaurant opened up a block from here. I’ve been dying to try it out. I heard they deliver, too.”

Lizzie smiled. Maggie always had food on the brain. “Do they have a specialty?”