Mortal Pursuit

10

Barbara rejoined the others in the dining area, serving tiramisu. Her entrance inadvertently disrupted the humorous climax of Charles’s Ojai tennis story. She saw him suppress a frown.

The Danforths made the usual appreciative comments as she dished out dessert from the sideboard. Phliip was a former college athlete, his paunch spreading in middle age, his florid face further inflamed by those five whiskey sours Ally had mentioned. His wife was attractive but desperately thin, her arms like tanned bones, her face revealing too much of the skull beneath. She spent hours at a fitness club and never ate anything.

As if to prove the point, Judy Danforth risked only a birdlike nibble of tiramisu. “Barbara, this is delicious.” She had said the same about the filet mignon, although she’d consumed less than half of the six-ounce cut.

Barbara nodded her thanks, a false smile fixed on her lips, while she seated herself across from Charles.

The 911 operator had said a patrol unit would respond as soon as possible, but what did that mean Five minutes An hour

Discreetly she checked her watch. 8:10. Realistically she couldn’t expect a response time of less than ten minutes. The house was secluded, after all.

Secluded-bad word to think of right now.

“Barbara”

Her head tilted up, and she saw Philip regarding her with a quizzical smile. Vaguely she was aware that he had said something she missed.

She blinked. “Excuse me”

“Just wondered if I could have the recipe. I do a bit of cooking around the house-“

“All the cooking,” Judy amended with a smile that stretched her skin drumhead-taut.

“She’s got me well trained.”

“Now don’t start that.”

“Certainly,” Barbara said, breaking into their banter because the brisk, bright voices were giving her a headache. “Charles has a copier in his study. I’ll Xerox the recipe before you go.”

“Mom’s a terrific cook,” Ally said with a radiant smile.

Barbara wished she could take pleasure in the compliment, but it was difficult to concentrate. Her gaze kept straying to the windows as she hunted for a glimpse of movement in the front yard.

Ridiculous, of course. The man she’d seen had been out back.

But how could she be sure there was only one

Professional burglars worked in teams, didn’t they

Teams. Just listen to her. Crazy talk.

She wished the police would come.