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She slipped on a white clingy imitation silk tee-shirt, a sexy number that Shari had bought on super-sale at the Limited. Recovering herself, Melusine tucked the weapons out of sight, down into the deep holsters hidden under the petticoat of her riding habit, and went back into the house where Martha awaited her in some impatience. Very well. She killed a man who was squatting outside of a freezing brick shanty on the southern edge of Chicago as he waited for his dealer. The shot had taken effect upon the waterman who rowed the chase. It was Blueskin.
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