Night Vision by Ellen Hart Page A

to come upstairs to my loft.”
    â€œThanks.”
    With one last rapturous look, he swept from the room.
    Cordelia took a deep, cleansing breath and sank down on the couch. “I’m sorry about that, Jo.”
    â€œNo,” she said. “He’s charming. A little starstruck, but charming.”
    â€œEverybody in the building can’t wait to meet you.”
    â€œI suppose you get used to it,” said Jane, perching on the edge of one of the velvet couches. When she’d visited Joanna over the fourth way back when, nobody around Sandpoint had acted like she was a goddess. They seemed to take her presence in stride, respect her need for privacy.
    Joanna sat down next to Cordelia. “All this hoopla is one reason I love my place in Idaho. It’s hard to leave.”
    â€œOh, come on. You love all the attention,” said Cordelia, kicking off her shoes. “Who doesn’t love being adored?”

    â€œIt’s not that simple for me,” said Joanna, her expression losing some of its usual buoyancy.
    Apparently realizing she’d stumbled into sensitive territory, Cordelia slipped her arm around Joanna’s shoulders. “You okay?”
    â€œI’m not sure how to answer that. A week ago I would have said I was fine, but—” She hesitated. “I don’t suppose either one of you might know a good private investigator.”
    Jane and Cordelia exchanged glances.
    â€œActually, I do,” said Jane. “He’s an ex-cop. A good friend.”
    â€œHow come you need an investigator?” asked Cordelia, moving in a little closer.
    Something on the floor behind Jane caught Joanna’s attention. She sat forward. “What’s that?” She pointed.
    â€œWhat?” said Jane.
    â€œThat package behind your chair.”
    Jane turned to look.
    â€œOh, that,” said Cordelia. “It came for you this morning. A gift from one of your zillions of fans.”
    Joanna stood. “Jane, would you open it?”
    â€œMe? Okay.” She picked it up and stripped off the paper. Underneath was a bouquet of pink roses. “How beautiful.”
    Joanna recoiled. “Is there a card?”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” asked Jane. Her eyes strayed to Cordelia, who looked every bit as thunderstruck as Joanna.
    â€œPlease,” said Joanna. “Just read the card.”
    Jane pulled it free. “It says:

    â€˜Welcome home to Minnesota, land
of ten thousand lakes and a hundred
thousand lunatics. Hope you’re
laughing because I sure am. Can’t
wait to see you!’”

    Jane turned the card over. “That’s all it says.”
    â€œWho’s it from?” asked Cordelia. “What’s the name?”

    â€œThere isn’t one.”
    Walking unsteadily over to the wall of windows facing downtown Minneapolis, Joanna said, “Get rid of them.”
    â€œExcuse me?” said Jane.
    â€œWhat didn’t you understand? The flowers! I said get rid of them! Burn them. Crush them. I want them annihilated!” She whirled around. “Call that ex-cop friend of yours, Jane. I want to talk to him. Now. ”
    Â 
    Jane reached Nolan right away, but he couldn’t make it over to the loft for at least an hour. During that time, Joanna retreated to her bedroom. Cordelia was just this side of frantic because of Joanna’s reaction to the flowers and the note. She offered to make her something to eat. Food, in Cordelia’s universe, could solve a multitude of problems, but Joanna said she didn’t want anything. Just the PI.
    While Joanna was resting, Jane and Cordelia stood in the kitchen and talked softly.
    â€œYou know Joanna better than I do,” said Jane. “I’m guessing, but I think you know something about those flowers—why they set her off. Who are they from?”
    Cordelia had already taken out the slice of double-cream Brie and was in the process of cutting the