Running Hot

her ear. “I’m no expert, but I’m thinking that’s because you feel comfortable with us. You know us for what we are and we know you.”
    “Survivors,” Luther said.
    “Yeah, that’s right.” Wayne nodded. “One way or another, we’re all survivors. We understand each other. When we’re together, there’s no need to hide. No need to pretend you’re not damaged.”
    “No need to be afraid,” Luther said, watching her.
    The sudden rush of tears startled her. She blinked them back.
    “Family,” she said.
    “Yeah,” Petra said. “Family. Can I have another slice of lasagna?”
    Grace gave her a misty smile.
    “Yes,” she said. “You may have as much as you want.”
    “Don’t tell her that,” Wayne said quickly. “She’ll eat the rest of it. Luther and I haven’t had seconds yet.”
    “Nobody likes a whiner,” Petra said. “You know, maybe we should put lasagna on the menu at the Rainbow. Got a hunch the regulars would go for it. It’s not fried, but it’s not bad.”

FORTY
    After dinner Petra and Wayne washed and dried the dishes. Grace put the clean things away in the cupboards while Luther made coffee. They took the mugs into the living room and sat down while Grace brought them up to date on her genealogical research.
    “Mr. Jones granted me access to the confidential files,” she said. “I found only one record of a singer J&J knew for certain had killed with her voice.”
    “Who?” Luther asked.
    “Irene Bontifort. But it’s safe to say that she was not the Siren who killed Eubanks.”
    “What makes you so sure?” Luther asked.
    “Bontifort was a star back in the late eighteen hundreds. She’s been dead for well over a century. In her time she was hugely famous. Right up there with Melba.”
    Petra’s mug paused halfway to her mouth. “She was as famous as Melba toast?”
    Grace laughed. “You could say that. Melba toast was actually named after another opera singer, Nellie Melba. So was the dessert peach Melba.”
    “Well, dang,” Petra said. “Learn something new every day.”
    “Irene Bontifort was an absolute sensation,” Grace continued. “She toured all the capitals of Europe.”
    Luther looked at her. “Did this Irene Bontifort die of natural causes?”
    “Not exactly,” Grace said. “She was one of J&J’s early cases. That’s why she caught my eye. According to the file, she was believed to have murdered at least one cover, another singer she thought had tried to upstage her.”
    “What’s a cover?” Petra asked.
    “An understudy,” Wayne said.
    “Show-off,” Petra muttered.
    “Covers are always ambitious, of course,” Grace said. “Naturally they want to be stars, too. Evidently Bontifort thought one particular up-and-comer was a serious threat. The other singer died under mysterious circumstances but the death was ruled to be from natural causes. There were a couple of other suspicious deaths among Bontifort’s circle of associates, too—a rival who was starting to gain fame, a critic and a lover.”
    “Bontifort had a lover?” Petra asked.
    “Several of them,” Grace said. “Divas are known for their big appetites, and we’re not just talking about food here.”
    “Damn. I thought rock stars were the wild ones,” Petra said.
    Wayne rolled his eyes.
    Grace glanced at her notes again. “It was the death of one of Bontifort’s lovers that caught the attention of J&J. The victim was Lord Galsworthy, and he was a member of the Society. His death, like the others, was ruled to be of natural causes but his widow, Lady Galsworthy, asked J&J to look into the matter.”
    “Did J&J find any proof that Bontifort killed Galsworthy?” Luther asked.
    “According to the file, the agency was satisfied beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was guilty,” Grace said. “But they never came up with any hard proof that could be turned over to the police.”
    Petra was intrigued. “How did J&J stop her?”
    “They didn’t,” Grace said. “Someone shot her before they could deal with her.”
    “Who whacked her?” Wayne asked, looking interested.
    “Lady Galsworthy.” Grace checked her notes again. “After J&J informed her that they had psychic evidence against Bontifort but no proof that would be admissible in court, she decided to take matters into her own hands. One night she waited in the bushes outside Bontifort’s town house. When Bontifort got out of her carriage and started up her front steps, Lady Galsworthy emerged from