Murder List by Julie Garwood

she always did. “Is that a new blouse? I like it.”
    “I wear too much pink,” Sophie said. “But I saw this and I just had to have it.” The waiter appeared at the table and took Sophie’s drink order.
    Regan turned toward the entrance of the restaurant and said, “I can’t believe you beat Cordie here. I wonder what’s keeping her. She’s never late.”
    “I told her she didn’t need to be here until one or a quarter of,” she said.

    The waiter had returned with a tall glass of iced tea. Sophie immediately grabbed three sugar packets and dumped the contents into the glass.
    “Why did you tell her—”
    “She already knows what I want to talk to you about. I dragged her into this a good month ago, but I didn’t want to bother you because you were doing so much traveling back then.”
    “I just went to Rome.”
    “Excuse me. Before Rome you were in Houston and Miami and…”
    “L.A.,” she supplied. “I guess I have done a lot of traveling in the last two months. So tell me. What’s the ‘this’ you dragged Cordie into?”
    “The plan.”
    She’d used the word with relish, and Regan saw a gleam in her eyes.
    “You’re sounding awfully earnest, Sophie. So, tell me about the plan” she added, exaggerating the words.
    “Don’t mock me.”
    Regan put a hand up. “I’m not mocking you. I swear it on your iced tea.” The waiter had heard “iced tea,” and a few seconds later a tall glass was placed before Regan. She didn’t tell the eager man she didn’t want it. She thanked him instead.
    Sophie folded her hands. “To begin with, the plans have changed for this evening.”
    “We aren’t going to dinner?”
    “Yes, of course we’re going to dinner. Cordie already made the reservations. We’re going to a reception first.” She turned to her purse and pulled out a wad of folded papers and placed them on the table.
    “What are those?”
    “I’ll explain in a minute.”
    “Okay. Then tell me about the reception.”
    Sophie was frowning at a group of businessmen seated at a long table adjacent to them.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “Those men are staring at you.”
    “They aren’t staring at me. They’re staring at you,” Regan said. “Just ignore them.”
    “The one on the end is really quite cute.”
    Regan didn’t look. “Tell me about the reception.”
    Sophie finally gave Regan her full attention. “It’s for the men and women who register early for the weekend seminar we’re all going to attend.”
    She’d blurted it all out and then gave Regan her brightest smile. It didn’t work.
    “Can’t do it.”
    “Sure you can. You’re all stressed out from the trip to Rome, and having to be in the same room with your sleazebag stepfather—to borrow your opinion of the man. This is something completely different and... noble. Yes, what we’re going to do is noble.”
    “How noble?”
    Sophie leaned forward. In a whisper she said, “We’re going to catch a murderer.” Chapter Five
    Regan hadn’t been shocked by Sophie’s announcement. After all, she’d grown up with her and was certainly used to her dramatic ways. “ ‘We’re going to catch a murderer’? Is that what you just said?” Regan asked.
    “Yes, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.”
    “Okay,” she said. “And how exactly are we going to do that?”
    “I’m serious, Regan. I really want to get this bastard.” Regan raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t like Sophie to ever curse. “Who are we talking about?”
    “Dr. Lawrence Shields,” she said. “He’s a doctor of psychology who uses his mail-order credentials to fleece rich but lonely, vulnerable women, both young and old.” Regan was nodding. “Have you heard of him?” Sophie asked.
    “I’ve read a couple of articles about him in the newspaper.” Sophie took a drink of her tea and then said, “His self-help, let-me-show-you-how-to-turn-your-miserable-life-around seminars draw hundreds of unsuspecting men and women. It’s so sad,