“Going somewhere?” Moeller asked, blocking Mollie’s way.
“Actually, I—”
“You know, I shouldn’t have let you into this party. You don’t belong.”
“But I’m Bitsy Carlisle. I was invited.”
Moeller shook his head. “You are no such person. I knew the first time I saw you that you were an impostor.”
“Okay, so maybe I wanted to get a glimpse of the exciting life of modeling.”
Moeller glared at her through beady eyes. “Sit down.” He pointed to the chair, and Mollie sank into it.
Then Moeller picked up the hose of a garment steamer and pointed it at Mollie. “I have a special facial treatment I give to people who come into my house uninvited.” He turned on the machine, and steam started to come out the end, right in Mollie’s face.