She jerked around to the mirror over the telephone table. “Just look at me, Fish! I’m horrible. This afternoon, I was crossing the street to my car, and right where I’d parked there was a chalk cross on the curb and ‘Death’ printed under it. I’m not superstitious, but—”
“Oh, nuts, Dodo,” Fish said. “It was just some kid—”
“I know, but why was it right where I parked?” she asked sharply. “But it isn’t that. It’s my conscience, I guess. I’ve never told Nikki he won’t have a penny if I die . . . and Jennifer’ll be glad to see him starve. . . .”
She came back to him and gripped his arm. “What’ll I do? Shall I tell him, Fish?”
He felt his arm stiffen under her grip. If she told de Gradoff, the death’s-head would move to Jennifer Linton.
He stood there rigidly, not knowing how to answer her
