Trust Me

was the correct word, Stark thought. Dangerously so.

    Stark managed to find a parking space on a Pioneer Square side street, got out, and followed Desdemona down the alley behind the building that housed Right Touch.
    His mind was still focused almost entirely on the problem of Vernon Tate. When he walked through the back door of the large, gleaming kitchen, it took him a few seconds to adjust to the fact that, in addition to the familiar faces working to clean up the premises, a pair of strangers were present.
    He very nearly ran into Desdemona, who had come to an abrupt halt at the sight of the newcomers.
    Juliet hailed her from the far end of the kitchen. “Hey, Desdemona, look who just blew into town.”
    “Mom. Dad.” Desdemona laughed with delight and dashed forward, arms outstretched. “What are you two doing here?”
    Stark watched the reunion from the doorway. Juliet, Bess, and Augustus gathered around Desdemona and her parents. Everyone started to talk at once. The babble of excited voices swirled around Desdemona, enveloping her.
    Once again, Stark was aware of feeling outside the pattern. The brief, temporary insights he had gained when he was connected to Desdemona seemed lost.
    With the skill of long practice, Stark suppressed the dark loneliness and forced himself to study Desdemona’s mother and her stepfather.
    Celia Wainwright was a handsome woman who exuded a charm that was palpable from across the room. She wore a gauzy, ankle-length summer dress that looked vaguely southwestern in style. It was belted with a silver-and-turquoise-studded strip of leather.
    Celia was shorter than the average Wainwright, about the same size as Desdemona. Her graying red hair was bound into an elegant knot at the nape of her long neck. Her exotic eyes, similar in color to Desdemona’s, dwelt on Stark with grave interest.
    Benedick was a tall, silver-haired man whose strong features had only recently begun to blur a little with the years. He gazed as though he had consciously chosen to live the latter portion of his life immersed in the role of an aging old-world aristocrat. He looked at Stark as he released Desdemona. Regardless of the role he had elected to play, his eyes held unexpectedly keen perception.
    When he spoke, his voice was so deep and resonant that Stark would not have been surprised to discover that he was secretly wired to a karaoke machine.
    “Well, well, well,” Benedick murmured. “So you’re the man who has stolen my little girl’s heart.”
    “Dad, really.” Desdemona blushed furiously.
    Benedick ignored her. He put out his hand in a gesture of calculated graciousness. “Benedick Wainwright.”
    Stark glanced at the proffered hand. He walked forward to take it. “I’m Stark.”
    “This is my wife, Celia.” Benedick made a gallant motion to indicate Desdemona’s mother.
    Celia gave him a charming smile. “I’m told everyone calls you Stark.”
    “Yes. How do you do, Mrs. Wainwright.” Stark inclined his head politely. “I didn’t realize you and your husband were expected.”
    “They weren’t.” Desdemona stepped out of her mother’s embrace. “What’s up? Did the show close unexpectedly?”
    Benedick shook his head sadly. “Folded three nights ago without any notice.”
    “What happened?” Desdemona asked.
    “Apparently the Cactus Dinner Theater was operating on the edge of bankruptcy,” Celia explained. “A fact which no one had seen fit to make known to the cast. The sheriff arrived one morning earlier this week and put everything under lock and key until the creditors can resolve the problems in court.”
    “That’s terrible,” Desdemona said.
    Stark glanced at her. There was no real heat or surprise in her voice. He suspected she was accustomed to such tales of theatrical disaster.
    “These things happen,” Benedick said philosophically. “Celia and I drove back to Seattle with some of the rest of the cast. Been on the road for three days. Got into town an hour ago and came straight here. You can imagine how stunned we were to learn what had happened.”
    “Dreadful,” Augustus murmured. “Absolutely dreadful.”
    “We’re still in shock,” Bess assured Benedick. “To think of poor Desdemona trapped in that freezer with a dead body.”
    “You might have been killed,” Celia whispered, horrified. “Are you sure you’re all right, dear?”
    “I’m fine, Mom. Stark had given me this really neat little computer gadget that allows me to send