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friend Nell thought the world of her.”
    She wheeled herself away from the window and Helen and Darby followed. “Let’s go into the study,” she said. “I’ll ask Carlotta to bring us some tea.” She stopped and turned to face Helen. “Or would you rather join me in a cocktail?”
    Helen appeared to think about the offer. She shot a look in Darby’s direction and then back to Mitzi Cameron. “I’ve got a designated driver. Why the hell not?”
    The study was a cozy, sunny space, a small part of what Darby was beginning to realize was an enormous house, perhaps ten thousand square feet or so. It was down the hall from the grand living room, adjacent to a large den where Darby glimpsed a pool table, shelves of brass trophies, and mounted game fish.
    “This is my favorite part of Casa Cameron,” said Mitzi, maneuvering her chair into the study. “It reminds me of the little living room in Miami, back in my family’s home in Coral Gables. Do you remember it, Nell?”
    Helen nodded, moving toward a table on which an elegant array of crystal paperweights was displayed. “Yes, and I recall your collection as well. I’ve always loved this one the best.” She picked up a small glass oval and held it up to the light. “That tiny little pink shell …”
    Mitzi laughed, a silver sound that belonged to a much younger woman. “Helen Near, you always tell me you like that paperweight. You’re so damn predictable!”
    “I can’t help it. I’m drawn to this one.” Her voice was defensive.
    “And you never seem to remember that you’re the one who gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday!”
    Helen’s booming laugh joined Mitzi’s and Darby smiled. It was obvious that these two women shared a special bond of friendship. Little wonder Helen had moaned in anguish when the car radio’s news report described the details of Kyle Cameron’s grisly murder. Multiple stab wounds … identical to two murders on the East Coast … It was not only the tragic death of her new business partner and colleague: it was the pain this fatality caused her oldest and dearest friend.
    Mitzi rolled her chair to face a chintz-covered couch and indicated that they should sit. Moments later a trim, dark-haired woman wearing a white uniform arrived with a tray of drinks. Mitzi and Helen took martini glasses filled with an orange colored liquid. Darby accepted a glass of sparkling water and lime.
    “Thank you, Carlotta,” said Mitzi, and the servant retreated from the room. The hostess held aloft the cocktail and regarded her friend. “I thought we should have one of Kyle’s favorites in her honor.” She gave a sad smile. “To Kyle.”
    The three clinked glasses and drank.
    “Delicious,” said Helen. “Say what you want, but the Florida Cocktail is one good drink.”
    “Hard to go wrong with Triple Sec, cherry brandy, and gin,” murmured Mitzi. “Of course, it’s the lemon and orange juices that really give it a punch.”
    The older women giggled and Darby couldn’t help but smile. “How long have you two been friends?”
    “Too long!” said Helen. More peals of laughter.
    Mitzi’s gaiety was short-lived. She sighed and regarded Darby. “I’m not usually this animated, even around my best friend Helen. I think I’m somewhat in shock.” She set her drink down on the coffee table. “That poor girl. Alone and at the mercy of a maniac. She was stabbed more than two dozen times. I just pray she died quickly, without too much pain.” Tears began to roll slowly down her thin cheeks and Helen handed her an embroidered handkerchief. She looked as if she was ready to cry as well.
    “How is Jack taking all this?”
    “Not well. At first we couldn’t find him … he was fishing somewhere south of the city. And then, when we did, well, he was not in good shape.” She gave Darby an apologetic look. “My son’s been having a hard time. He’s depressed, and—” she took a deep breath. “Dr. Menendez came over right away and