LITMIR.BIZ

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hadn’t uncovered squat.”

      “Then maybe you should hire someone here.”

      “And waste more money?” she scoffed. “No, thanks. I’m sure whoever is sending these things will eventually get the hint. Or,” she added as she leaned closer, “the florists will run out of gardenias, and he’ll be out of luck.”

      “This note doesn’t give me the impression that we’re dealing with an admirer,” Wesley told her. “It’s too threatening. Too indicative that he is not overly fond of you.”

      Destiny rolled her eyes. “Fond?” she repeated with a throaty laugh. “Live dangerously, Dr. Porter. This bozo obviously hates me. But that’s okay, I hate gardenias. So I guess he and I are running about even.”

      She watched as deep lines appeared at the corners of his eyes and mouth.

      “Lighten up, Doctor. I’m not saying I’m thrilled by his persistence, but he’s hardly overtly threatening. He hasn’t come near me.”

      “Why are you so convinced it’s a man?”

      “Gina’s picked him out of the audience. Wait until tomorrow night. If he comes, which he always does, I’ll have Gina point him out to you.”

      “Did your assistant have a vision, or is there something in particular about this man that makes you believe he’s your morbid admirer?”

      “Can we get out of the sun?” she asked, not really interested in discussing the matter any further. Lord knew, it was a topic both Gina and David had beaten into the ground during the past several months.

      “Sorry,” she heard him mumble as he slipped a key into the ornate lock and opened the door.

      It took several seconds for her eyes to adjust to the shadowy interior, even after he’d flipped a switch to turn on dim, period chandeliers.

      “Wow,” she said as she admired the long, rectangular room. Tables were arranged with wide aisles leading up to a small, but certainly sufficient, stage. The lighting she saw at the base of the stage was fine upon inspection. All in all, The Rose Tattoo promised to be a fairly decent engagement. “When David told me I’d be playing in an outbuilding, I sure wasn’t expecting anything like this.”

      “That’s because my oldest boy and his wife did the renovations.”

      Destiny twirled around at the sound of the female voice echoing through the room. A woman she placed somewhere in her early fifties sashayed toward them. Her outfit was outrageous—animal-print, skintight pants, a form-fitting blouse and bleached hair that nearly touched the ceiling. Garish clothing aside, Destiny was drawn to the woman’s warm, welcoming smile.

      “I’m Rose Porter,” she said, extending her hand.

      “Nice to meet you.”

      She turned to Wesley and said, “I saw the flowers outside. Your idea?”

      Wesley shook his head. “I’m afraid they came with Miss Talbott,” he answered dryly.

      “Maybe we should make it a practice to send all our performers a little something,” Rose said thoughtfully. “Maybe an Elvis tape.”

      Destiny watched as Wesley tried to hide a cringe behind square-tipped fingers. “We’ll think about it.”

      “Anything you need,” Rose began, “just let us know.”

      “I’m sure everything will be fine,” Destiny answered. Especially if I get to catch the occasional glimpse of Dr. Porter while I’m here.

      * * *

      “I‘VE CALLED THE STATION house,” Gina was saying, her words running together in an agitated string.

      Destiny had barely time to deposit her purse on the rattan sofa before her friend had launched into a long, involved explanation for her failure to show up at The Rose Tattoo. Destiny had stayed through dinner, at Rose’s insistence. Unfortunately, Dr. Porter had disappeared before the lunch crush.

      “I can call Western Union and make an immediate cash transfer. I think they said five hundred dollars for the bond.”

      “Don’t bother,” Destiny said with a sad sigh.

      Gina’s faced wrinkled in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

      “He can spend the night in jail. God knows he’s done it often enough before.”

      She walked over to the refrigerator and rummaged around until she found a diet soda, then lifted one of the leaded glasses from a neatly arranged tray. Each ice cube made a pleasant sound as she dropped it into the glass. She retrieved the bottle of soda and poured herself a generous portion.

      Gina stood a few feet away, her hands resting on her nonexistent hips. Destiny never ceased to be amazed by the slenderness of the woman. She often remarked that even during the throes of PMS, Gina never managed to balloon above a size three. The fact that she was five-eight in her stocking feet mattered little, or that she still carried herself like the famous cover model she had once been.

      “C’mon Destiny, Carl’s your father. And your mother was really adamant when she called.”

      “I’ll bet she was.” Destiny smiled, easily imagining her mother’s response to her former husband’s latest predicament. In spite of the divorce that had taken place more than twenty years earlier, Chief Judge Mona Talbott still monitored the activities of her parasitic ex-husband. “My mother will survive.” Destiny took a long swallow of her soda, allowing it to slide smoothly down her throat while pushing the memories of Dr. Porter to the back of her mind. Silently she told herself that her reaction to the man was simply the result of too many months on the road and not enough dates. Still, she just couldn’t seem to rid the image of his dark hair and light eyes from her brain.

      Gina’s pretty face was a collage of concern and frustration as she watched Destiny refill the glass. “More flowers?”

      “Uh-huh,” Destiny grumbled into the glass.

      “That’s it!” Gina bellowed, raising her arms and allowing them to slap loudly against her thighs. Destiny found herself sneaking a peek at the lower portion of the ragged scar marring the brown-skinned woman’s otherwise perfect leg.

      “Girl, you’d better call someone. How about the police?”

      Massaging the tension in her neck, Destiny offered a wan smile. “And tell them what? I’m Destiny Talbott and I’d like to report a delivery of flowers. I don’t want my name and face plastered on the cover of every grocery-store rag. Not now. Not when I’m this close.” She pinched her thumb and forefinger in front of her eyes, barely allowing light to pass between the small opening they formed. “I’d be labeled a paranoid crazy.”

      “Get serious, Destiny. You can’t just ignore all the threats and stuff. Your buddy David isn’t capable of handling this situation. It’s gotten way out of hand, and you can’t keep pretending that it isn’t happening.”

      “I’m giving it my best shot.”

      “Fine. Do what you want. You will, anyway.” Gina pointed a long, tapered finger at Destiny, shaking it for emphasis every now and then. “I don’t mean to criticize your original patron saint, but David seems to worship the paycheck he gets from Sommerfield, not to mention—”

      “Leave it alone, Gina.”

      Destiny’s body tensed. What if? No! her brain screamed. It couldn’t be David. It had to be a crazy person, and she wasn’t about to let some lunatic exploit her—not now.

      “Fine,” her friend responded, clearly hurt. “And what about your father?”

      “We’ll wire the money in the morning. A night in jail will be good for him.”

      “What am I supposed to tell your mother? She’s depending on you to take care of this.”

      “And

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