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I can’t win. Whatever I do. Either way, I’m going to let down a whole load of people.

As Amy wriggles into the first dress, I stand, staring blankly at the floor, my heart thumping hard. I’ve been in trouble before. I’ve been stupid before. But never on this level. Never so large, so expensive, so important…Advertisement

“I like this,” says Amy, staring at herself critically. “But is there enough cleavage?”

“Er…” I look at her. It’s a black chiffon dress, slashed practically to the navel. “I think so. But we could always have it altered…”

“Oh, I don’t have time for that!” says Amy. “I’m only in New York for one more day. We go on vacation tomorrow and then we’re moving to Atlanta. That’s why I came out shopping. They’re packing up the apartment and it’s driving me nuts.”

“I see,” I say absently.

“My boyfriend adores my body,” she says smugly as she clambers out of it. “But then, his wife never bothered with her appearance at all. Ex-wife, I should say. They’re getting a divorce.”

“Right,” I say politely, handing her a white and silver sheath dress.

“I can’t believe he put up with her for so long. She’s this completely jealous harridan. I’m having to take legal action!” Amy steps into the sheath dress. “You know, she mailed me this really offensive letter. It was like a list of completely insulting stuff about me! Our lawyer says we have an excellent case.”

That sounds familiar. I look up, my brain starting to tweak. “You’re sure it was her who sent it?”

“Oh yes! I mean, she signed it and everything. Plus it was definitely her writing. William recognized it.”

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I stare at her, my skin prickling. “What… what did you say your boyfriend’s name was?”

“William.” Her lip curls scornfully. “She called him Bill.”

Oh my God.

It is. It’s the blond intern. Right here in front of me.

OK. Just… keep smiling. Don’t let her know you suspect anything.

Inside I’m hot with outrage. This is the woman Laurel was cast aside for? This stupid, tacky airhead?

“That’s why we’re moving to Atlanta,” Amy says, examining her reflection complacently. “We want to start a new life together, so William asked the firm for a transfer. You know, discreetly. We don’t want the old witch following us.” She frowns. “Now, I like this one better.”

She bends down farther and I freeze. Hang on. She’s wearing a pendant. A pendant with a… is that green stone an emerald?

“Amy, I just have to make a call,” I say casually. “Keep trying on the dresses!” And I slide out of the room.

When I eventually get through to Laurel’s office, her assistant, Gina, tells me she’s in a meeting with American Airlines and can’t be disturbed.

“Please,” I say. “Get her out. It’s important.”

“So is American Airlines,” says Gina. “You’ll have to wait.”

“But you don’t understand! It really is crucial!”

“Becky, a new skirt length from Prada is not crucial,” says Gina a little wearily. “Not in the world of airplane leasing.”

“It’s not clothes!” I say indignantly — then hesitate for a second, wondering how much Laurel confides in Gina. “It’s Amy Forrester,” I say at last in a lowered voice. “You know who I mean?”

“Yes, I know,” says Gina in a voice that makes me thinks she knows even more than I do. “What about her?”

“I have her.”

“You have her? What do you—”

“She’s in my fitting room right now!” I glance behind me to make sure no one can hear. “Gina, she’s wearing this pendant with an emerald in it! I’m sure it’s Laurel’s grandmother’s! The one the police couldn’t find.”

There’s a long pause.

“OK,” says Gina at last. “I’ll get Laurel out of the meeting. She’ll probably come right over. Just don’t let… her leave.”

“I won’t. Thanks, Gina.”

I put down the phone and stand still for a moment, thinking. Then I head back to my fitting room, trying to look as natural as possible.

“So!” I say breezily as I go in. “Let’s get back to trying on dresses! And remember, Amy, just take your time over each one. As long as you like. We can take all day, if we need to—”

“I don’t need to try on any more,” says Amy, turning round in a tight red sequined dress. “I’ll take this one.” pqdm.com