Hidden Riches

“A cache of drugs—no, better. Diamonds.” She brought out a screwdriver. “Rubies, maybe. They’re more valuable these days.”
    “Try reality,” Jed suggested, and went to work on the backing.
    “It could be,” she insisted, peering over his shoulder. “It has to be something worth killing for, and that’s usually money.”
    “Quit breathing down my neck.” Jed elbowed her away before prying at the plywood.
    “It’s my painting,” she reminded him. “I have a bill of sale.”
    “Nothing,” Jed muttered as he examined the backing he’d removed. “No secret compartments.”
    Dora glared at him. “There might have been.”
    “Right.” Ignoring her, he tapped a hand on the back of the exposed canvas.
    “That’s odd. The back of that canvas has a lot of age to it.” Dora pushed her way in for a closer look. “Although Isuppose Billingsly could have painted over an old canvas to save money.”
    “Yeah. And sometimes people paint over paintings to smuggle them through customs.”
    “You think there’s an old master behind there?” Amused, Dora shook her head. “Now who’s dreaming?”
    But he was paying no more attention to her than he would to a fly buzzing around the ceiling. “We need to get this paint off, see what’s under it.”
    “Hold it, Skimmerhorn. I paid for this. I’m not going to have you screw it up over some cop’s ‘hinkey feeling.’ ”
    “How much?” Impatience and disgust warred as he turned to her.
    Pleased that he understood, she folded her arms over her chest. “Fifty-two dollars and seventy-five cents.”
    Muttering, he pulled out his wallet, counted out bills.
    Dora tucked her tongue in her cheek and accepted them. Only her strong feelings for Jed kept her from recounting them. “Overhead,” she said primly. “And a reasonable profit. Make it an even eighty and we’ll call it square.”
    “For Christ’s sake.” He slapped more bills into her palm. “Greedy.”
    “Practical,” she corrected, and kissed him to close the deal. “I have some stuff in the storeroom that should work. Give me a minute.” Dora slipped the money into her pocket and went downstairs.
    “She made you pay for it.” Filled with admiration, Brent leaned back in his chair. “And made twenty-seven bucks and change on the deal. I thought she was kidding.”
    “I doubt Dora ever kids when it comes to money.” Jed stepped back, lighted a cigarette and studied the painting as if he could see through the splashes of red and blue. “She might have a soft heart, but she’s got a mind like a corporate raider.”
    “Hey!” Dora kicked at the door with her shoe. “Open up. My hands’re full.” When Jed opened the door, she came in loaded down with a drop cloth, a bottle and several rags.“You know, it might be better if we called in some expert. We could have it X-rayed or something.”
    “For now, we’re keeping this to ourselves.” He dropped the rags on the floor, then took the bottle. “What’s in here?”
    “A solution I use when some idiot has painted over stenciling.” She knelt on the floor to roll back the rug. “We need a very careful touch. Give me a hand with this.”
    Brent was already beside her, grinning at the way Jed scowled when Jed noted where his eyes had focused. He crouched and spread the cloth.
    “Trust me, I’ve done this before,” she explained. “Some philistine painted over this gorgeous old credenza so it would match the dining room color scheme. It took forever to get it back in shape, but it was worth it.” She sat back on her heels, blew the hair out of her eyes. “Want me to give it a try?”
    “I paid for it,” Jed reminded her. “It’s mine now.”
    “Just offering to help.” She handed him a rag. “I’d start on a corner if I were you. In case you mess up.”
    “I’m not going to mess up.” But after he knelt beside her, he did indeed start on a corner. He dampened the rag and, working in slow, delicate circles, removed the end of the signature.
    “Bye-bye, Billingsly,” Dora murmured.
    “Put a lid on it, Conroy.” He dampened the rag again then gently removed the stark white paint, the primer. “Something’s under here.”
    “You’re kidding.” Excitement bubbled into her voice as she leaned closer. “What is it? I can’t see.” She tried to crane her neck over his shoulder and got an elbow in the ribs for her trouble. “Damn, Skimmerhorn, I just want a look.”
    “Back off.” His muscles tensed