The evil, twisted fiend!!"Lake Featherstone heard the childlike shrieks just seconds before he saw a bullet of pink come barreling down the formal stairway at him. He'd been in the library, lingering over after-dinner brandy, perhaps longer than he should have, and now he was headed to his room for the evening."She's torturing me!" the bullet cried, whizzing down the steps past him. "The wicked kitchen Amazon is torturing me!"Lake touched the balustrade, steadying himself as he turned to watch his five-year-old niece dart down the remaining few stairs and skate in her ballet slippers across the gleaming black and white tiles of the mansion's foyer. He'd turned thirty-seven his last birthday, but living in close quarters with such a strange little urchin often made him feel twice that old."Bridget! Come back here!"Now Frances Brightly was lumbering down the stairs, a pair of children's cotton pajamas waving in her hand, and the child had begun shrieking again."What's the problem, Frances?" Lake asked, straining to be heard over the racket."Kid needs her chops busted, that's the problem.
