I shot a look at Derek, but he avoided my distressed gaze, turning away to chat up the closest woman available, who happened to be Mary Ellen Prescott, the manicurist at the Dharma co-op beauty salon my mother operated with a few of the commune women. He would soon find out that Mary Ellen was not a member of our commune but a shameless, serial proselytizer for the Church of the True Blood of Ogun. Served him right for ignoring me in my hour of need. Semifrantic now, I turned to Ian and was dismayed to realize that in the few seconds it had taken me to observe Derek’s betrayal, Ian had seen his chance and completely disappeared. Suffice it to say, this was another lesson learned the hard way. Men were good for one thing only. Killing spiders. Other than that, I was on my own. It was sad, though. Where was the chivalry of yesteryear? Inspector Jaglow coughed discreetly. I could claim a need to use the bathroom, then sneak through the kitchen, detour out the mudroom door and be gone in seconds.
