She slipped on a white clingy imitation silk tee-shirt, a sexy number that Shari had bought on super-sale at the Limited. Lucy heard a stir, but if Dawn Plote were to arise and come into the room, it could only mean two murders tonight. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. .
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