How many enemies so cold-blooded could a girl like that have? And although she’d obviously had at least one, how on earth was Frank ever going to find him when her own mother thought he’d done them a favor?

Sarah could tell by the way Frank Malloy was pounding on her door the next morning that he hadn’t liked getting a message from her at Police Headquarters. She opened the door and said, “My only other choice was to go by your flat and leave a message with your mother,” before he could even open his mouth.

Whatever angry words he’d been about to say died on his lips, but his glare was still fierce. “At least my mother wouldn’t have laughed,” he informed her grimly.

She could only imagine how much teasing he endured each time she contacted him there. “I’m sorry, Malloy, but I didn’t know how else to get you over here. You made it very clear you didn’t want me to get involved in the case, so I knew you weren’t going to drop by to consult with me.” She stepped back and allowed him to enter.

He pulled off his hat and hung it up without waiting for an invitation to stay. “Don’t think for a minute that I’m here to consult you,” he warned. “You aren’t getting involved in this, and that’s final.”

“Of course,” she agreed cheerfully. “I’m sure you’ll find Emilia’s killer all by yourself in a day or two, so I won’t even have time to get involved. I just wanted you to know one thing that Mrs. Wells forgot to tell you.”

This time he looked so angry that Sarah began to feel a little uneasy.

“When did you see Mrs. Wells?” he asked her in a voice that raised the hair on her arms.

“I went to see her yesterday afternoon,” she said, refusing to be cowed. “I had to tell her that my mother offered to hold a party to raise funds for the mission.”

He needed a minute to absorb this information. “Your mother?” he repeated incredulously. “What does you mother have to do with this?”