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hurting my wife.”
    â€œOh.” Slowly Ambrose released his grip. “I’m sorry . . . It’s just . . .”
    He suddenly seemed aware that the receptionist was staring at him. “Come inside.” As soon as the door was closed to his privateoffice, he turned to them. “Have you heard from her? Has she been with you? Do you know where she is?”
    Wearily Janice stared at her hands as Mike explained Alexandra’s failure to meet them. Like the others, Marcus Ambrose knew their arrival was expected and anticipated by Alexandra.
    â€œI just can’t figure it out,” he said. “Everything was fine in London and Paris. Then in Venice trouble started. The first few days there was a lot of technical stuff to do—product shots, background, that sort of thing. Alexandra had a little free time. She and I went sightseeing together. She was in great spirits. Talking all the time about you two . . . how anxious she was to see her sister and meet the guy she’d married. I bet I could write your biography.”
    â€œHow well do you know Alexandra?” Mike asked.
    Marcus Ambrose smiled. “I’ve known her for a couple of years, ever since Grant Wilson started chartering one of my planes for his location shots. I piloted the flights myself and had such a ball that ever since I always keep those bookings for myself if I possibly can. And, I admit, for the past year Alexandra has been the real reason.”
    Another worshipper at the shrine. Janice wondered, with all the men who claimed to care for her, why would Alexandra have wanted to disappear?
    Mike said, “Grant Wilson told us that while they were in Venice, he proposed again to her and he felt that this time she might be more receptive.”
    â€œI doubt that. She wouldn’t be crazy enough to get stuck with that cranky, uptight jerk. But Alexandra was getting tired and she didn’t photograph well the last few days.”
    â€œWere you at the shoots? Did you see her being photographed?” Mike asked.
    â€œAs a pilot, I have a lot of downtime. I enjoyed watching the shoots. She was on the set that last day and had to open that jar of Beauty Mask and start to smear it on her face. Well, they had heropening jar after jar. But when she took it off, they didn’t get the effect they wanted and she started getting nervous. Then Grant Wilson and Larry Thompson started shouting at each other. Between them, they had Alexandra too upset to pose. Finally she just ran off the set.”
    Janice studied her nails. For the moment she simply didn’t want to react emotionally to what she was hearing. Later on she’d think about Alexandra being screamed at by all those precious friends of hers who claimed to be so worried about her.
    â€œWhat happened then?” Mike asked quietly.
    â€œI followed her out.” Marcus Ambrose pushed his chair away from the desk and stood up. The chair almost toppled backward. “I followed her out and caught up to her at the door. The poor kid had that slimy goo all over her face and she was trying to rub it off before it hardened.” He winced as though distressed at the memory. “Larry Thompson was right behind me. He grabbed her arm, said something about finishing what she started. I told her to tell them to go to hell, but she just shook her head and went back into the studio. I took off. That night we all had dinner together. Alexandra didn’t eat anything. Finally she got up and left the table. I went looking for her to see if she’d go out to the Piazza and have a drink. She liked listening to the violins there.”
    Janice said, “She’d written to me about St. Mark’s Cathedral and the outdoor tables in the Piazza. Venice was her favorite city in Europe.”
    â€œI found her on the hotel steps with Wilson. I guess they’d been quarreling. She was saying that he must have known all along she was