Some Like It Lethal by Nancy Martin

was alone and therefore needed a seat at a table with an uneven number of guests. After the dinner, there had been dancing, but Tim and I both decided to leave early. He had helped me into my coat, I recalled.
    But the photographs looked like something more than a gentleman assisting a friend in the cloakroom. My dress had revealed a lot of bare shoulders, and Tim had leaned closer than I remembered. He looked ready to nuzzle my throat, in fact, and in the next picture my innocent good-night kiss to his cheek appeared to be a flash of passion between two longtime lovers.
    I dropped the photos on the table. As I did so, a note fell out.
    Spike grabbed the note in his teeth. I wrestled with him and won.
    The note read: Ten thousand dollars by Wednesday or you are in big trooble.
    Trooble?
    It took me a second to realize what the misspelled word meant, and then I couldn't get enough oxygen.
    What followed were directions for placing a bag of hundred-dollar bills underneath a statue in Rittenhouse Square.
    Suddenly, my hands were shaking so badly that I couldn't stuff the photographs back into their envelope.
    Spike growled when I dumped him on the floor. I rushed to the telephone and picked it up, but couldn't imagine who to call for help.
    Blackmail.
    I dialed Michael's cell phone number with trembling fingers and prayed the call would reach Scotland.
    It rang four times before he picked up, shouting hello from several time zones away.
    "It's me," I said.
    "Hang on," he bellowed. "I'll call you back from another phone."
    I hung up and waited. For a man who assured me he had nothing to hide from the law, he spent a lot of time switching telephones. Thirty seconds later, my phone rang.
    "Am I pulling you out of a trout stream?"
    "Salmon," he said, in a normal tone of voice. "Scotland has salmon. But I'm—never mind. What's up?"
    "I'm sorry. I don't mean to— What time is it there? Did I wake you?"
    "It's okay. What's wrong? You sound scared. Is it Emma?"
    "No, it's me, believe it or not. I just received a blackmail letter. A demand for ten thousand dollars. With photographs."
    "Jesus Christ. Of us?"
    My throat had a big, frightened lump lodged in it. "Nothing that easy. No, pictures of me with a friend in a hotel coatroom."
    "Damn. How come I can't get cozy with you in a coatroom?"
    "This is serious, Michael. I'm not kidding. The pictures show him just helping me with my coat, but they're very— They make us look intimate. Like an advertisement for perfume or diamond rings. Like we're in love with each other."
    More lightly than I could have imagined, he said, "So are you going to pay?"
    "You know I can't. And unless the blackmailer has just returned from Mars, he has to know I'm penniless, too." I could hardly breathe. "Why is this happening?"
    "Take it easy. Maybe he thinks if I hear you're snuggling in the mink stoles with another man, I'll have the guy whacked?"
    "That's not it. In fact, it's not even me I'm worried about. Well, I am, but— It's my friend I have to protect. He's a respected doctor, up for a big promotion at his hospital. He's got a wonderful daughter, and he's sticking by his wife, who's been in a coma since last January." I could feel my emotions building into the hot, awful lump just above my lungs. "He has so much to lose if something awful starts circulating, Michael. People will be shocked if they think he's having an affair while his wife is unconscious. And his daughter would be destroyed. It's horrible."
    "Come on," he said. "Don't cry on the phone. I can't stand it."
    "I'm not crying." Not exactly, anyway.
    "You've got to get mad. And smart. Who the hell is doing this to your friend? Not to mention you?"
    "I don't know. I'm too upset to think." I sat down at the table.
    "Cool down and concentrate. He's counting on you panicking."
    I tried to collect myself. "What should I do?"
    "Just think for a while. What do you already know? What doesn't make sense?"
    "None of it."
    "Think."
    "Well," I said