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chandelier light. Her hair, an equally brilliant gold, fell in ripples to her shoulders. She glanced at Adam’s visitor, a look that Kat recognized at once for what it was—a feminine sizing-up, then a curt dismissal. “Adam?” she asked. “Is something wrong?”
    “No,” he said, his gaze still fixed on Kat. “It’s just—business.”
    “Oh.” The woman smiled sweetly. “Pearl just brought out the soup. And we didn’t want to start without you.”
    “Sorry, Isabel. Why don’t you all just go ahead with supper? Dr. Novak and I aren’t finished yet.”
    Again, her gaze shifted to Kat. “We can set another place, if you’d like. For your visitor.”
    There was an awkward silence, as though Adam was hunting for a graceful way to avoid inviting this unwelcome guest.
    “That won’t be necessary,” said Kat, and thought she saw a look of relief cross Adam’s face. “I’ll be leaving as soon as we’re done with our … business.”
    Isabel smiled again, as though equally relieved.“Join us when you can, Adam,” she said, and withdrew into the side room.
    Adam and Kat regarded each other for a moment.
    “Let’s talk in the study,” he said, and abruptly turned and opened another door. She followed him inside.
    It was a characteristically masculine space, dark and clubby, with a fireplace and wood paneling, the sort of room in which you smoked pipes and drank cognac. She sat on the leather couch. He didn’t sit at all, but paced in front of the fireplace. The longer she watched him, the more annoyed she felt. It was irrational, but she was insulted that he hadn’t offered her a place at the supper table. She would have turned it down, of course; you didn’t just drop in to a formal supper, and judging from Isabel’s evening gown, this was no potluck they were serving. But at least she would have had the pleasure of turning him down. It was a matter of pride.
    “So what’s the basis for this hunch of yours?” he demanded. “Why do you think I would know anything about it?”
    “Because of that matchbook.”
    “Not much of a reason.”
    “Because this is a new drug, never seen before.”
    He shrugged. “So?”
    “And because you’re president of Cygnus Pharmaceuticals. A company known for its R and D in painkillers. A company that just released a new class of opiates.”
    “We also make drugs for athlete’s foot.”
    “Oh, and one more thing.”
    “Yes?” When he tilted his head, his blond hair caught the glow of the table lamp.
    “Until you saw the body, you thought Jane Doe was someone you might know.”
    At once he fell silent, all trace of mockery gone from his face. He sat down, his gaze avoiding hers.
    “Who did you think she was, Mr. Quantrell?”
    “Someone … close to me.”
    “What’s the secret here? Why can’t you just say who you thought she was?”
    “These are things I don’t wish to discuss. Not with a stranger.”
    “Then can you discuss the drug? It’s something new. A narcotic with a biphasic peak on gas chromatography. Could it be something that leaked out of Cygnus? Something you’re developing?”
    “I wouldn’t want to speculate.”
    Of course he wouldn’t. Because then he’d be vulnerable to all sorts of accusations. The manufacture of lethal drugs. The slaughter of junkies.
    Slowly, he looked up. “You said you had another body in the morgue. A woman.”
    “Xenia Vargas.”
    “Is she … young?”
    “About twenty.”
    “Describe her for me.”
    “You think you might know her?”
    “Please. Just tell me what she looks like.”
    Something about the tone of his voice, the stifled note of anxiety, made her feel sorry for him. “She’s about five foot four, on the thin side. Dark brown hair—”
    “Could it be dyed?”
    Kat paused. “It’s possible, I guess.”
    “What about her eyes? What color?”
    “Hazel.”
    Another silence. Then, with sudden agitation, he rose to his feet. “I think I’d better see her,” he said.
    “You