"Different church, same scam?" I asked. She nodded. "If scam is the right word. These people sound absolutely convinced. I'll know more after I've made the trip myself. Inskipp will scream when he sees how much of his funds I have invested to hurry that day."

"When?" Bolivar asked.

"AS soon as possible without raising Slakey's suspicions. For the record, he is now called Father Marablis. There is another thing about him that I find particularly interesting. Before leaving I made a point of approaching him to gush over his sermon. He liked that. Nor did he mind when, in the heat of the moment, I seized him by the hand, the right hand, and squeezed it with heartfelt emotion."

I leaned forward intently. As did the twins. We did not have to ask the question. She nodded. "A warm human hand—not a prosthetic." "But—" I stammered. "I saw the severed hand. It was positively identified."

"I know. Interesting, isn't it? I look forward to coming events with great anticipation."

The boys stared at her, smitten. Their kind, our kind of person. If anyone could find Angelina she could; I was sure of that now. Two days—and two very large donations—later she was told to prepare for her visit.

"Do I look all right?" she asked, turning slowly. Women only ask that when they know the answer. She was wearing something black, tight, expensive, with matching hat and even more expensive jewelry. "Are you sure that this can't be detected?" she asked, touching the tiny diamond brooch pinned at her throat.

"Only under a microscope—and you would have to know what to look for," I said. "The center diamond is the lens. I usually wear it as a shirt dress stud.