Bodie stepped over to the door. 'Oh, there's Pen. I wonder if she's eaten yet.'

'Ask her.'

He slid open the door. The sound made her look around. 'Good morning,' he said.

'Hi, Bodie.'

His heart beat a little faster. 'Are you hungry?'

Nodding, she swung her legs off the lounger and stood up. Bodie caught himself staring at her legs as she walked toward him. He turned away.

'It's wonderful out there,' she said and entered the kitchen. 'I never sit out at my place.'

'Maybe you can find a new apartment with a private patio,' Melanie said.

'I should try. Sleep well?' she asked.

'Fine,' Melanie answered.

'Me, too,' said Bodie. 'Zonked right out.'

"The jacuzzi will do that to you. That and the booze.' She met Bodie's gaze and looked away. 'I was out like a light.'

'Did you see Joyce's note?' Bodie asked.

'Guess she's making herself scarce. Who could blame her?'

'What do you mean?' Bodie asked.

'Just that she can't be very comfortable around Dad's family. She's obviously sleeping with Harrison, after all.'

'I thought you didn't believe that,' Melanie said. 'What changed your mind?'

'Being around her, I guess. I can't even put my finger on it, but there's something about her. Maybe the way she's been acting - I don't know - ingratiating. It's as if she has a guilty conscience so she's bending over backwards to be sweet. You add that to the fact that Harrison was here yesterday morninga and what you told me about the bed.' Pen frowned at her sister. 'It makes me think that maybe you've been right about her all along. She wouldn't be sleeping with Harrison if she loved Dad.'

'She never loved Dad,' Melanie said. 'She just wanted his money.'

'But that doesn't mean she tried to kill him,' Bodie pointed out.

Melanie stabbed him with her eyes.

He grimaced. 'Woops.'

'What are you talking about?' Pen asked. 'Tried to kill Dad?'

Bodie tried to look sorry for his slip of the tongue. With a shrug, he said, 'Maybe you'd better tell her, Melanie.'

'Neat play.'

'It just came out.'

'I wish somebody would tell me what the h.e.l.l's going on,' Pen demanded. 'My G.o.d, I think I have a right to know. He's my father, too.'

Leaning back against the refrigerator door, Melanie folded her arms across her chest. She sighed, gave Bodie another fierce glance, then met Pen's eyes. 'Joyce and Harrison fixed it up so Dad would get hit by the car.'

Pen's eyes went wide. Her mouth dropped open. She shook her head. That's insane,' she muttered.

'I told you she wouldn't listen.'

'Go on,' Bodie urged. Tell her the rest.'

'What's the point?'

Bodie looked at Pen. ' Harrison was driving the car that ran your father down. Melanie saw him. It was that vision she had last night in the hospital room.'

'I saw him behind the windshield,' Melanie said. 'It was as if I were looking with Dad's eyes.'

'You can't make an accusation like that based on nothing more thana your imagination.'

'It wasn't my imagination.'

'Maybe it was telepathy,' Bodie suggested. 'Maybe your father communicated it to her.'

'Don't tell me you believe it, too?'

'I don't know. I guess maybe I do.'

'You're both bananas.'

Bodie wondered if, perhaps, Pen was playing it a bit too skeptical.

'Joyce made the dinner reservations,' Melanie said, a certain eagerness sneaking into her voice. 'She knew Dad always parked behind the bank, knew he'd have to cross the street. Harrison parked and waited till Dad started across.'

'It could've happened that way,' Bodie said.

'It did.'

'You'd need proof,' Pen told her. 'You can't base this whole thing on some kind of psychic experience.'

'Let's get proof,' Bodie suggested.

'I already know,' Melanie said.

'Your visions aren't always right,' Pen pointed out. 'Remember Dad's honeymoon?'

'That was a fluke.'

'Maybe this is a fluke.'

'It's not.'

'Then let's get some proof we can take to the police,' Bodie said.

Melanie sighed.

'We'd need to take a look at Harrison 's car,' Pen said. 'If he hit Dad, the car might've sustained some damage. And there'd bea traces. Even if he tried to wash it offa'

'Joyce claimed it was a sports car,' Bodie said. ' Harrison drives a Mercedes.'

'Joyce could've lied,' Melanie said.

' Harrison owns a Porsche,' said Pen. 'He has a Mercedes and a Porsche.'

'You would know that.' Melanie smirked at Bodie. They were lovers, you know.'

'We were not lovers.'

'Uh-huh, sure.'

'We went out a few times, that's all.'

'Do you know where he lives?' Bodie asked.

'Of course she does.'

Bodie wished he hadn't found out about Pen and Harrison. Thoughts of them togethera 'Let's drive out to his place,' he said quickly, 'and see if we can get a look at his Porsche.'

Melanie shrugged. 'I guess it can't hurt.'

'Why don't we have breakfast first?' Bodie suggested. 'I'm starving.'

'You and your stomach.'

' Harrison 's house is only a few miles from here,' Pen said. 'Why don't we eat afterwards?'

'Two against one,' he said, 'it ain't fair.'

Bodie drove west on San Vicente. Melanie sat in the van's pa.s.senger seat. Pen, crouched behind them, held onto the seatbacks, her left hand inches from Bodie's shoulder. Her face was in the gap, and he saw it each time he looked to the right. Her shampoo, or perfume, had a fresh clean scent.

Bodie's stomach didn't feel right - maybe simple hunger, maybe being so close to Pen, or maybe a reaction to finding out about her and Harrison. Lovers? She'd denied it. But she had admitted going with him. Bodie didn't like that. The guy was movie-star handsome, cool and smooth.

Drives a f.u.c.king Porsche.

An a.s.shole.

Even if they hadn't been lovers, Pen must've liked him. They must've kissed. He must've had his hands on her.

Such thoughts didn't improve the condition of Bodie's stomach.

Whatever went on between them, he told himself, it's over now. Pen doesn't seem to like him. Maybe he dumped her. I hope she's the one who did the dumping.

'Make a left at the light,' she said.

Bodie steered into the turn pocket and waited for the green arrow.

'You know,' Melanie said, 'he probably didn't use his own car.'

'He's arrogant enough,' said Pen. 'Maybe he did.'

'Arrogant doesn't mean stupid.'

'It's still worth checking,' Bodie told them, and made the turn.

'You'll want to hang a right on the third street down.'

He nodded.

'Either rented a car or stole one.'

'Not necessarily,' Pen said. 'Renting would leave a trail.'

'He could've paid cash.'

'You have to show ID. Maybe he's got a fake ID, but that's tricky to pull off. The driver's license has your photo.'

'It's not that tricky,' Melanie argued.

'Besides, the rental person could identify him.'

'Not if he wore a disguise.'

'I don't think he'd do anything that elaborate - and risky. As you said, he's not stupid. He would know that the simpler he made it, the less chance of tripping up.'

Bodie turned right. The residential street was shaded by trees. The houses, mostly two stories, looked old but well kept. A peaceful neighborhood, its occupants probably well-off if not filthy rich.

'Two blocks,' Pen told him. 'Then make a left.'

'He must've stolen it, then,' Melanie said.

'That's not so simple, either. It's not as easy as they make it look on TV. Especially if we're talking about a sports car. You can't just jump in and hotwire the thing in five seconds and take off. You've got to bypa.s.s the steering wheel lock - and most of these newer cars have alarm systems.'

'Sports cars get stolen all the time,' Melanie told her. 'Mostly by pros, guys with the equipment to pull the ignitiona'

'You sound like a pro yourself,' Bodie said.