"It's a lovely sight, isn't it?" When she'd boarded the plane, the grandmotherly-looking woman next to her had smiled pleasantly and opened her book. Elizabeth had been relieved; the last thing she'd anted was a seven-hour conversation with a stranger. But now it was all right. They'd be landing in a few minutes. She agreed that it was a lovely sight.

"This was my third trip to Italy," her seatmate continued. "But it's the last time I'll go in August. Tourists all over the place. And so terribly hot. What countries did you visit?"

The plane banked and began its descent. Elizabeth decided it was just as easy to give a direct answer as to be noncommittal. "I'm an actress. I was working on a film in Venice."

"How exciting. My first impression was that you reminded me a little of Candy Bergen. You're just about as tall as she is and have the same lovely blond hair and blue-gray eyes. Should I know your name?"

"Not at all."

There was a faint bump as the plane landed on the runway and began taxiing. To deter any more questions, Elizabeth made a business of pulling her carry-on bag from under the seat and checking its contents. If Leila were here, she thought, there wouldn't be any question about identifying her. Everyone recognized Leila LaSalle. But Leila would have been in first class, not coach.

Would have been. After all these months, it was time the reality of her death set in.

A newsstand just beyond the Customs enclosure had stacks of the early-afternoon edition of the Globe. She couldn't help seeing the headline: Trial Begins September 8. The lead read: "A visibly angry Judge Michael Harris scathingly denied further postponements in the murder trial of multimillionaire Ted Winters." The rest of the front page was filled with a blowup of Ted's face. There was a stunned bitterness in his eyes, a rigid set to his mouth. It was a picture snapped after he'd learned that the grand jury had indicted him for the murder of his fiancee, Leila LaSalle.