Hidden Riches

some sort with a large bowl and a short handle shaped like an eagle.
    “I’m delighted you’re pleased. I chose it from my own collection of caddy spoons. The pewter, I thought, suited you best. A strong, durable material often underrated.”
    “Thank you, sir. Thank you. I don’t know what to say.”
    “It’s nothing.” Finley brushed away the gratitude. “A token only of my appreciation.” He sat now, tapping his finger to his top lip. “You serve me well, Abel. I reward loyalty just as I punish betrayal. Quickly, precisely and thoroughly. Hold my calls for the next hour.”
    “Yes, sir. Thank you again.”
    But Finley had already quickly, precisely and thoroughly blocked Winesap from his reality. He opened the file and concentrated on Isadora Conroy.

CHAPTER
TWENTY
    I t was raining in thin chilly sheets when Jed drove into Front Royal. The weather had been miserable throughout the plane ride from Philadelphia International to Dulles, and promised to remain so. The defroster on the rental car worked at two speeds: blast and trickle. Each time Jed was forced to crank it up, the interior turned into a small, efficient sauna.
    Dora chatted away on the drive, her easy voice and casual observations relaxing him. He wasn’t required to respond, or even to listen. She had a way of making him absorb her mood even while his mind was working out the details of the next steps to be taken.
    “If you ever went into the subliminal tape business,” Jed commented, “you could make a fortune.”
    “Do you think so?” Dora flipped down the visor and used the attached mirror to freshen her lipstick. “Make thenext two rights,” she told him, and recapped her lipstick. “There’s a parking lot in back of the building.”
    “Since there’s a sign and an arrow, I probably could have figured that out.”
    “You’re still ticked off because I pack faster than you do.”
    “I was not ticked off.”
    “Of course you were.” With a bright smile on her face, Dora patted his arm. “It’s a man thing. The way you insisted on doing the driving even though I knew the way was a man thing. I don’t mind. I think it’s cute.”
    “I did the driving because I didn’t trust you not to end up in a five-car pileup because you were so busy talking about the ozone layer or ZZ Top.”
    “Ah.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You were listening.”
    “My ears are still ringing.” Jed pulled up into a slot beside a battered Ford pickup. “Remember, Conroy, you’re not here on a buying jaunt.”
    “I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes as he climbed out of the car. “And you’ll ask the questions,” she continued. “I’ll stand two paces behind like a good little girl and keep my mouth shut.”
    He waited until she’d shut her door. “That’s right.” He studied her while the rain dampened her hair. “It’s a nice mouth—even if it runs most of the time.”
    “Well, that set my heart fluttering.” She hooked her arm through his and started for the rear door. “It won’t be warm inside,” she told him as he pulled open the metal door with a screech of hinges. “But it’ll be dry. Mr. Porter has a rep for extreme frugality. No frills, no shiny displays, but some pretty good bargains.” She took a deep gulp of the air and her eyes kindled. “God, just look at this stuff.”
    He was. But what he saw was row after row of dusty furniture and smeared glass crowded with junk. There were tangles of jewelry, most of it outrageously tacky and all of it dull from disuse. An entire cabinet was stuffed with salt andpepper shakers, another with a variety of bottles that were none too clean. There was a Shriner’s cap set jauntily atop a cracked gumball machine and several cardboard boxes filled with paperback books at ten cents apiece.
    “I think that’s a Maxfield Parrish print.”
    Before Dora could make a beeline, Jed snagged her arm. From the gleam in her eyes, he knew that getting her through would be similar to walking over hot coals. It would have to be done fast, and without any looking back.
    “Where are the offices?”
    “In the front, to the right. Jed, I only want to see—”
    But he was already hauling her along while she tugged on his arm like a puppy straining at the leash. “Toughen up, Conroy. Your palms are sweating.”
    “This is really cruel,” she muttered. But she lifted her chin. “Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to Porter? Dealer to dealer?”
    “I said