Nancy sat down beside the bed. “Can you think of a reason why someone might want to kill you?” she asked.

Monique shook her head. “Not unless it was the blackmailer.” She gulped. “I can’t pay any more. Maybe he got tired of waiting for me to pay and decided to kill me.”

“How much have you paid altogether?” Nancy asked.

“Hundreds of dollars,” Monique moaned. “Maybe as much as five hundred.”

Nancy shook her head. Five hundred dollars was not that much, really. And there was no reason to believe the blackmailer would gain anything from Monique’s death. “What did the letters say?”

“They all said the same thing: Tut the money into a red plastic bag and throw it in the trash can at Nelson’s Column. If you don’t, your mother will find out that you are a forger and a thief.’ It was so long ago,” she added, “and in another city even. I never dreamed anyone would find out about it! I thought I was safe!”

“Why your mother?” Nancy probed.

Monique broke into tears. “My mother is old and sick. News like that could kill her!” She looked up imploringly, tears streaming down her face. “You’ve got to find the blackmailer, Ms. Drew! My mother’s life depends on it, and so does mine!”

“Have you still got the letters?”

“They’re at home.” She turned her head away, sniffling loudly. “You can have them if you want.”

“What about the bottle of sleeping pills?” Nancy stood up to go.

“The police took it, but I know it was empty.” She turned back toward Nancy and smiled weakly. “If you see Ms. Amberton today, please tell her that I’ll be back at work very soon. And thank her for coming to my apartment yesterday and bringing me flowers. They’re beautiful.”

I guess I’ll have to revise my opinion of Ashley Amberton, Nancy thought as she left the room. Lending money to one of the blackmail victims, bringing flowers to a sick employee. Maybe she wasn’t really as unfeeling as she appeared.