The sound of more glass smashing made her jump and she prepared herself for the worst. But then a familiar voice brought a rush of relief. “Ms. Farrell? Are you all right?”

Olivia poked her head up over the back of the chaise. She waved weakly at Assistant District Attorney Elliott Shulman, the man in charge of the murder case against Red Keenan. “I-I’m still alive,” she said.

He hurried through the shop and helped her to her feet. “This is just unacceptable,” he muttered. “Where was the police protection I ordered?”

“They’re still parked outside my flat,” Olivia murmured, a warm flush flooding her face.

Shulman gasped. “You went out without telling them?”

She nodded, her spine stiffening at his censorious tone. “I-I just needed to get some work done. The shop has been closed for almost two months. I have bills to pay, antiques to sell. If I don’t work with my clients, they’ll go someplace else.”

Shulman grabbed her by the elbow and led her toward the front door, his fingers firm on her arm. “Well, you’ve seen what Red Keenan is capable of, Ms. Farrell. Maybe now you’ll listen to us and take his threats seriously?”

Olivia yanked her arm from his grasp. “I still don’t understand why he’d want me dead. Kevin can testify to the whole sordid business. I just overheard them talking. And I didn’t hear that much.”

“As I told you before, Ms. Farrell, your partner isn’t talking. You’re the only witness who can put the two of them together. After what happened tonight, we’re going to have to hide you. Somewhere safe, out of town.”

Olivia gasped. “I-I just can’t leave. Look at this mess. Who’s going to repair the window? I can’t let the weather come in. These antiques are valuable. And what about my clients? This could ruin me financially!”