"How are you?" Cusack asked as he steered her away.

"I'm fine."

"Then there are several important guests I'd like you to meet." Cusack leaned closer and lowered his voice. "But there will be no discussion of death, and if you want to keep this job, you'll stop questioning people."

Louisa stopped. "I won't stop looking for Zoe."

"I mean it, Louisa. I'll fire you if I have to. This matter is police business, and I wouldn't want to see you hurt again," he said in a discussion over tone. He steered her through the crowd, introducing her to VIPs.

An elderly woman rapped her cane on the tile next to the exhibit case. "Have you gotten those murders straightened out yet?"

Louisa bobbled.

"The police have the situation in hand." Cusack's smooth voice steadied her. "Have you met our newest assistant curator, Dr. Louisa Hancock?"

"What a lovely brooch." Louisa bent her head to examine a cameo pinned to the woman's jacket. "Is it an antique?"

For the next two hours, Louisa deflected gossip about the murders, talked about the new exhibit, and charmed museum patrons while the throbbing in her knees grew to a crescendo. The auction topped off the night's agenda. The evening had been a success, in spite of the negative publicity hovering around the museum, or maybe because of it. Louisa overheard too many fascinated whispers speculating about the murders. She surveyed the thinning crowd. Her gaze settled on Xavier. He was Zoe's mentor, and Riki had been one of his students. He'd shown her a different, unflattering side of his personality tonight. Where had he been during the murder?

Conor mixed drinks and watched Louisa work the crowd. A few hours into the event, the line at the bar dissipated.

Damian approached. "Club soda." He glanced around. No one was close by.

Conor flipped a glass and scooped ice.

"How did you get in here?" Damian asked in a low tone.

"I blackmailed the caterer." Conor twisted the cap off the soda bottle. "If you don't want people to know you're messing around on your wife, don't take your mistress to bars."

"I'll keep that in mind," Damian said. "But seriously, what made you think this was a good idea?"

Conor squeezed a lime wedge into the drink and placed it on a cocktail napkin. "Because Louisa was coming, and one of these people could be a killer."

"What will the cops think of you butting into the fund-raiser?"

"I don't know. We could ask the one who followed me over here. He's probably parked outside."

Damian shot him a bad idea glare. "We need to talk after this. Louisa's place."

"You and Louisa are close?" Conor forced the words out of lips tight enough to crack.

Damian's eyes sparked. "Oh my God. You're jealous." He covered his laughing mouth with his fist.

"Why is that so hilarious?" Conor grimaced.

Damian spun around and scanned the crowd. He raised a finger in the air, motioning to a tall, blond man. "Mark?" Damian turned back to Conor.

The blond extricated himself from a conversation with three well-jeweled elderly women and walked over. He gave Conor a critical once-over and raised an approving eyebrow at Damian. "You called?"

Damian gestured. "My partner, Mark, will have a Johnny Walker on the rocks."

"And I'm not his law partner." Mark smiled.

Cheered, Conor poured whiskey over ice. "Nice to meet you."

"You too." Taking the drink, Mark gave Damian a nod. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just go back to charming those very wealthy widows into making fat donations."

"You didn't know I was gay?" Damian asked after Mark returned to his conversation.

"I've never felt so clueless in my life."

"You've been preoccupied." Damian handed over his empty glass for a refill. "Does it bother you?"

Conor laughed. "Damian, you have no idea how happy I am that you're gay."

"I didn't realize you thought there was something going on between me and Louisa. She's just a friend. A good friend. So if you hurt her, I'll let you rot in jail."

"Noted." Conor nodded.

Damian took his refill and wandered off. Guests drifted toward the lobby. The room emptied out. At a signal from the caterer, Conor started breaking down the bar. He was hoisting a case of glassware onto a rolling cart when he spotted Louisa out of the corner of his eye. She was heading down a corridor. Alone.

He put the box on the cart, glanced around, and set off after her. He caught up with her easily. Her pace was slow and deliberate, as if she was masking pain. "Where are you going?"

"I locked my purse in my office." She turned and stopped him with a raised hand. "You can't come back here."

"Well I don't want you to go back there by yourself."

"It's my office." She propped a hand on her hip.

Conor crossed his arms over his chest. "It's dark and empty."

Impasse.

Louisa humphed. "Fine. I'll get April to come with me. Go back to your job before someone sees you back here."

An angry whisper from around the corner stopped them. "I'm warning you."

Conor held a finger to his lips and pushed Louisa behind him. He peered around the corner. Halfway down the corridor, a door was ajar. He motioned for Louisa to look.

She stuck her head into the hall and pulled it back. "Copy room," she whispered.

Conor motioned her to stay put. He crept to the open door and listened.

"I'm done with you."

The slurred male voice sounded familiar. Conor pulled out his cell phone and turned it over. He used the silver back of the case as a mirror, angling it to see inside the doorway. Two figures faced each other in front of an industrial copier. Both presented profiles to Conor. Xavier English and Isa Dumont.

Xavier was swaying on his feet.

Isa stood a few feet away from him, her arms akimbo, her attitude petulant. "Is that a threat?"

"Yes," Xavier spat. "We're through."

"How much do you want to keep your job?"

Xavier's face darkened to impending-stroke red. "You're a bitch."

"Yes, but I'm the bitch in charge." Isa sneered.

"You took advantage of me."

"I took advantage of you?" She pointed at his chest. Fury radiated from her eyes, her anger hot enough to scorch the reams of paper stacked on shelves behind them. "How can you even say that with a straight face? From my perspective, this is karma. You got yourself into this mess. Try to exercise a little self-control in the future. In the meantime, you'll do exactly as I say."

Xavier's eyes bugged with rage. Isa brushed past him toward the door.

Conor hustled back to Louisa. He held up an in a minute finger and pulled her into the shadowed alcove that led to the restrooms. Isa blew past. A few minutes later, Xavier followed, his steps rushed and uneven. After he passed, at Louisa's insistence, Conor waited in the alcove while she hurried back to her office for her purse. She returned a minute later, her purse and a file tucked under one arm.

"Come back to my house when you're finished here," she said.

"How are you getting home?"

"Damian and his partner are waiting for me in the lobby."

"OK."

They returned to the foyer separately. Louisa headed for the lobby while Conor helped the caterer load the truck parked in the alley before walking down to Rittenhouse Square. Louisa must have been waylaid along the way, because he arrived at her apartment right behind the threesome.

In the kitchen, Louisa gave Damian and Mark each a quick hug. "Thanks for the escort home."

"Anytime."

Conor took off his jacket and draped it over the back of an island stool. "Is it normal for Xavier to get that drunk?" Conor steered her across the floor.

"No." Louisa shook her head. "That's the first time I've ever seen him act like anything less than a gentleman."

"Same here," Damian said. "Not that we're besties or anything, but I've run into him at other functions. His behavior is usually professional."

Conor snorted. "Alcohol turns some people into asses." Of course, sometimes booze simply lowered a man's ability to hide his true nature.

"It was appalling the way people were discussing the murders." Louisa's mouth tightened with disgust. "It was almost as if they found gossiping about the case exciting."

"People suck, honey." Mark rubbed her arm.

"You know what's really aggravating and pathetic?" Damian's eyes shifted to angry. "I reported a teen missing the same day as Zoe Finch disappeared. She was one of the kids in my after-school program. She didn't get a clip on the news. No one cares what happened to her."

The sudden burst of temper surprised Conor. "Louisa mentioned that you represent disadvantaged kids."

Mark wrapped an arm around Damian's shoulder. "He's trying to open a supervised after-school program for high schoolers in the neighborhood where he grew up. Some of these kids don't have a safe place to wait until their parents get home."

"That's great. Where did you grow up?" Conor asked.

"West Philly." Damian rattled off a crossroad.

Conor whistled. "Rough area."

"No kidding." Damian snorted. "Try being a geeky, undersized teen in that neighborhood fifteen years ago. Every day, walking home from school was like running a gauntlet. Sometimes I'm surprised I made it out alive."

"Well, I'm glad you did." Mark smiled.

"Time for us to go home." Damian gave Louisa a peck on the cheek. "You get off those feet and get some rest."

"Thanks again." Louisa showed them out and then turned to Conor. "I'm going to change. Once I sit down, I might not get up again." She limped down the hall.

The dog didn't follow her mistress back to the bedroom. Conor looked down at the pit bull. Big brown eyes stared up at him expectantly.

"I'll walk Kirra." He took her downstairs for a quick turn around the park. Returning, he checked the fridge. Nothing had appeared while they were gone.

"Did you eat anything tonight?" Conor filled two plastic bags with ice.

"No."

"Do you want another grilled cheese, or should I make a takeout run?"

"Grilled cheese would be great," she called from the bedroom. He heard drawers opening and closing, then the soft sound of a zipper. She hadn't closed the door. Another small sign of trust?

Trying not to picture Louisa undressing, Conor got busy making sandwiches. By the time he was done, the kitchen smelled like browned butter. She reappeared in plaid flannel pajama bottoms and a sweatshirt. Her hair was down again, tumbling over her shoulders in a blond wave. Conor brought the food into the living room. He moved the coffee table over and pulled an ottoman up to the sofa. Louisa raised her feet and sighed as he settled the two ice packs on her knees.

"Eat before you fall asleep."

"What could be going on between Xavier and Isa?" She bit into her sandwich and groaned. "God, I could eat this for every meal."

Her groan made him think about . . . "Could it be sex?"

Louisa wiped her mouth with a napkin. "I guess it's possible. He wouldn't be the first professor to sleep with a student."

Conor finished his food and pushed his plate back. "If they're sleeping together, what's the conflict? Is she blackmailing him?"

"She's doing something." She shrugged. "But if she's sleeping with Xavier and blackmailing him, what is she doing with Heath?"

"Good question." Conor took the empty plates to the kitchen and loaded them into the dishwasher. Isa shared an apartment with Zoe. The police had searched their place. But what would a search of Heath's apartment yield? Inquiring minds wanted to know.

"Could you bring me that file on the counter?" Louisa asked.

He brought the file and the reading glasses she'd left on the counter back to the couch. She put the glasses on and pulled off hot librarian without the suit. Louisa settled back on the cushions, relaxed. She flipped through papers.

"What are you looking for?"

"I'm not sure. This is a list of museum employees. Anyone on this list could have stolen the dagger." Louisa sighed and closed the file. "But without more clues, the list doesn't mean much. I'll see what I can make of it in the morning. Xavier is definitely a suspect. He might not work for the museum, but he visits often enough that people are accustomed to seeing him there."