Absolutely, Positively

the others. “Gentlemen, I do believe that this is what my wife, the noted shrink, would call a male bonding experience.”

    “Don't know what that means,” Leon said cheerfully, “but I'll drink to it.”

    The sound of a key scraping haphazardly in the front door lock roused Molly. Harry was home at last. She sat up on the sofa where she had fallen asleep reading and glanced at her watch. She was surprised to see that it was nearly one o'clock in the morning.

    Relief poured through her. The bachelor party must have been reasonably successful to have lasted this long.

    She yawned, got to her feet, and went down the hall to greet her husband-to-be. The scratching sound came again. Harry was apparently having a problem unlocking his own front door.

    “I do hope you're not soused, Harry,” she said as she opened the door. “A little male bonding is one thing, but if those Stratton and Trevelyan relatives of yours got you riproaring drunk, I'm going to be very annoyed.”

    She broke off in horror when she saw who stood at the door.

    “I assure you, I'm not drunk, my dear,” Cutter Latteridge said. He gave her his most charming smile and showed her the gun in his hand. The barrel was oddly shaped. “And I won't be staying long. There's just one or two things I want to take care of before I start another project.”

    “Cutter.” Molly was too stunned to move. “How did you get in here?”

    “Actually, the name is Clarence, but you can call me Cutter.” He motioned with the gun. “And to answer your question, I got in through the garage. Garage security is always so lax, isn't it?”

    Molly took a step back. Cutter walked into the hall and closed the door behind himself.

    “They said you had disappeared,” Molly whispered. “They said it wasn't your style to come back after the con went sour.”

    “Generally speaking, they're right.” Cutter heaved a sigh of regret. “I'm not fond of the physical stuff. Entirely too messy. I prefer to make my living with my wits. But in this instance, I feel that I must make an exception.”

    “You mean another exception, don't you? You killed Wharton Kendall.”

    “He became unreliable,” Cutter said. “There was simply too much money at stake, I suppose. He felt he had a right to more of it than I planned to give him for his services. Amazing how greedy some people can be, isn't it?”

    “You'll never get your hands on the Abberwick Foundation assets now,” Molly pointed out desperately. “Why take the risk of coming back to Seattle?”

    “Because Trevelyan won't give it up.” Cutter's face suffused with sudden fury. “He's like a goddamned bloodhound. He's got his investigator rummaging around in my past, looking for evidence, trying to find patterns. And we all have patterns. Sooner or later he'll track me down. I can't have that.”

    Molly had not realized that Harry had kept Fergus Rice on the case, but the news did not surprise her. “You can't stop Harry.”

    “I must,” Cutter said. “If I don't get rid of him, I won't have any peace for the rest of my life.”

    Fear seized Molly's insides. “What are you going to do?”

    “I'm going to dispense with both you and Trevelyan in one neat, tidy package.”

    “You can't get away with this. Everyone will realize who murdered us.”

    “I don't think so.” Cutter smiled coldly. “I've spent quite some time planning this project. And I've waited for just the right moment.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “It will appear that Harry Trevelyan, psychologically disturbed man that he is, went over the edge. He came home drunk and depressed after his bachelor's party. Shot his fiancée, whom he mistakenly believed had resumed her affair with her old boyfriend, Gordon Brooke, and then turned the gun on himself. Happens all the time, eh?”

    “You're the crazy one if you think this will work.”

    “It will work, my dear. I'm very good with details.” Cutter glanced at his watch. “We may as well sit down. There's nothing we can do until Trevelyan returns home, after all, and I understand that bachelor parties can go on for some time.”

    Molly knew she would never have a chance to scream aloud. Cutter stood too close, his gun at the ready. He could knock her unconscious or kill her before she could utter a sound.

    She recalled the day that Cutter had trapped her in her father's basement workshop. Harry had arrived on the scene within minutes after Cutter had left the