Hidden Riches

worth it.”
    “I’d rather you did, so you’d stop being mad at me.”
    “I’m not mad at you.”
    “Could’ve fooled me.” She wasn’t certain what she was feeling herself, only knew it had to be put behind them. “You’ve hardly spoken since we left LA. And if I hadn’t been making a fool of myself in the sheriff’s office, you’d have torn into me.” His eyes flicked up from his paper to meet her strained smile. “You wanted to.”
    “Yeah, I wanted to. But I wasn’t mad at you. I was mad because you’d seen those pictures. Because I knew you’d walked through a door you wouldn’t close easily, and never completely. There was nothing I could do about it.”
    She put a hand over his. “I can’t go as far as saying I’m glad I opened that file. But you were right, it brings me closer. I think I’d handle it all better if you told me what you found out from Sheriff Dearborne and at the coroner’s. Speculation can be even worse than reality.”
    “There isn’t that much to tell.” But he let the paper fall into his lap. “We know DiCarlo flew out to the coast on New Year’s Eve, rented a car, booked a hotel room. He didn’t sleep in the room that night, he didn’t return the car. That hasn’t turned up yet, either. Apparently he’d also booked a flight for Cancún, but he didn’t use the ticket.”
    “So he didn’t plan on coming back east anytime soon.” She left her hand over his as she tried to think it through. “Do you think he came out to see Finley?”
    “If he did, he didn’t sign in. There’s no record of him going to the offices on that date. If we go by the theory that he was working for himself, DiCarlo might have run into some bad luck on his way out of the country. Or he could have had a partner, a business disagreement.”
    “Makes me glad I’m in business for myself,” Dora murmured.
    “Or, choice number three, and my personal favorite, he worked for Finley, came out to report, and Finley killed him or had him killed.”
    “But why? DiCarlo hadn’t finished the job, had he? I still had the painting.”
    “That might be the reason.” Jed shrugged. “But there’s no physical evidence to link Finley to any of it at this point. We know DiCarlo came to LA, and he died there. He was murdered sometime between December thirty-first and January second—as far as the coroner can pinpoint at this time. He died from a single gunshot wound to the abdomen, then, from the lack of blood on the tarp, was moved several hours later. Someone had the presence of mind to take his wallet to slow up the identification if and when his body was found. The bruises on the face were several days old. I put them there myself. Other traumas occurred after death.”
    He couldn’t bring himself to tell her that DiCarlo had also been kneecapped.
    “I see.” To keep her voice clear and steady, she continued to sip the ginger ale like medicine. “That’s like no signs of struggle, right?”
    “That’s right, Miss Drew.” He gave her hand an approving squeeze. She was toughing it out, he thought, and admired her for it. “The condemned man had enjoyed a hearty last meal that had included pheasant, a considerable amount of wine and raspberries with white chocolate.”
    Nope, Dora thought as her stomach curdled, she definitely wouldn’t be eating anytime soon. “Then one would assume,” she began, pressing her free hand surreptitiously to her roiling stomach, “that the deceased was relaxed before he died.”
    “Kind of tough to put away a meal like that if you’re tense. Dearborne’s going to have his hands full checking restaurant menus. There were also some white stones and mulch found rolled up in the tarp. The kind you find in flower beds and around ornamental shrubs.”
    “I wonder how many flower beds there are in the LA area.”
    “I told you police work was tedious. Did Finley have gardens?”
    “Extensive ones.” She let out a shaky breath. “He’s very proud of them, and was disappointed that there was a cloud cover so he couldn’t show them to me properly in natural starlight. I admired part of them from his solarium.” Her color had drained again when she turned to look at Jed, but her voice was level. “They were very neat and tidy, well mulched with narrow pathways of white stone.”
    “You’ve got good eyes, Conroy.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Now close them for a while.”
    “I think I’d be better off watching the movie.” She