THE GALA WAS IN FULL SWING， as glitzy an affair as<br >socialite and heiress Mary McGuire Hancock， III， was<br >known for. White canvas canopied the spacious<br >grounds， strands of miniature lights twinkled like stars<br >in every tree and music from a jazz combo played<br >backup to conversations and laughter.<br > And like all gatherings of the Courage Bay elite，<br > fashion was on parade. Sequined gowns clung to gor-<br > geously slinky bodies and stretched across paunchier<br > ones. Men in tuxedos lined up at the open bars， while<br > waiters in stiff white shirts and creased black pants wan-<br > dered the crowd with trays of recherche hors d oeuvres.<br > It was a night for visiting old friends and making new<br > ones， a night for schmoozing and soliciting checks for<br > impressive sums of money.<br > A night for murder...<br > His pulse quickened at the thought， but he was care-<br > t<br > ful not to show any sign of his excitement. This had to<br > be just another charitable function until the perfect mo-<br > ment presented itself. The night had just started. He had<br > plenty of time.<br ><br >