Hidden Riches

been upside down. The shop’s broken into, the apartment’s searched. I’m nearly raped and you—”
    “What?” Lea was around the counter in two strides, gripping Dora’s hands. “What did you say?”
    “Damn.” Though she tried to tug her hands away, Dora knew she’d already gone too far. “It wasn’t really as bad as that. I exaggerated because you made me mad.”
    “Just hold on.” Lea strode to the door, locked it and slapped the Closed sign up. “You’re going to tell me everything, Dory, right now.”
    “All right.” Resigned, Dora rubbed her hands over her face. “You’d better sit down.”
    It took some time, given that Lea interrupted frequently, but it was eventually told, beginning to end.
    “I want you to promise not to tell Mom or Dad about this until I have a chance to.”
    “You go up and pack.” Lea sprang to her feet. With her eyes glittering blue, she looked to Dora like a slim blonde angel ready to hurl her harp and halo. “You’re moving in with John and me.”
    “I am not. Honey, I’m perfectly safe here.”
    “Oh, perfectly,” Lea tossed back.
    “I am. The police are looking for him, and they’ve even put guards on the building.” She laughed then, adoring Lea. “Jesus, honey, I’m sleeping with a cop.”
    That mollified, a little. “I don’t want you left alone. Not for five minutes.”
    “For heaven’s sake—”
    “I mean it.” The gleam in Lea’s eyes left no room for argument. “If you don’t promise, I’ll get John and we’ll haul you home with us. And I want to talk to Jed myself.”
    “Help yourself.” Dora tossed up her hands in surrender. It was impossible to play big sister with a woman who was the dictatorial mother of three. “He won’t tell you anything I haven’t. I’m absolutely, completely safe. Guaranteed.”
    They both shrieked when the door rattled.
    “Hey!” Terri shouted and banged. “What are we doing locked up in the middle of the day?”
    “Not a word,” Dora muttered, and crossed over to unlock the door. “Sorry, we were taking a break.”
    Terri pursed her lips as she studied the two women. The air smelled suspiciously of a family fight. “Looks like you both could use one. Busy morning?”
    “You could say so. Listen, there’s a new shipment in the back. Why don’t you unpack it? I’ll price it when you’re done.”
    “Sure.” Obliging, Terri shrugged out of her coat as she strode to the storeroom. She could always listen through the door if things got interesting.
    “We’re not finished, Isadora.”
    “We are for now, Ophelia.” Dora kissed Lea’s cheek. “You can grill Jed when he gets back.”
    “I intend to.”
    “And nag him, too, will you? I’d like to see how he handles it.”
    Lea puffed up with indignation. “I don’t nag.”
    “World’s champ,” Dora muttered in her best subliminal voice.
    “And if you think this is a joke, you’re—”
    “Hey, Dora.” Terri poked her head out of the storeroom. There was a puzzled smile on her face, and the copy of the computer-generated picture of DiCarlo in her hand. “Why do you have a picture of the guy who came in Christmas Eve?”
    “What?” Dora struggled to keep her voice even. “Do you know him?”
    “He was our last customer Christmas Eve. I sold him the Staffordshire—the mama dog with pup?” She glanced down at the picture, wiggled her brows. “Believe me, he looks better in person than he does here. He a pal of yours?”
    “Not exactly.” Her heart had begun to dance in her chest. “Terri, did he pay cash?”
    “For the Staffordshire? Not likely. He charged it.”
    Excitement rippled into Dora’s heart, but she was actress enough to void it from her voice. “Would you mind digging up the receipt for me?”
    “Sure.” Terri’s face fell. “Don’t tell me the guy’s a deadbeat. I got approval on the card.”
    “No, I’m sure it’s all right. I just need the receipt.”
    “Okay. He had some Italian name,” she added. “Delano, Demarco, something.” Shrugging, she closed the door behind her.
     
    “DiCarlo,” Brent said, handing Jed a rap sheet. “Anthony DiCarlo, New York. Mostly small-time stuff: larceny, confidence games, a couple of B and Es. Did a short stretch for extortion, but he’s been clean as a whistle for nearly six years.”
    “Not being caught doesn’t make you clean,” Jed murmured.
    “NYPD faxed this to me this morning. There’s a cooperative detective up there who’s going to