Hidden Riches

hot date?”
    She smiled sweetly and yanked open the door. “Kiss my ass, Skimmerhorn.”
    “I’ve thought of it,” he murmured. “I have thought of it.” With that, he sauntered out.
    “Tell,” Lea demanded. “Tell all. Don’t leave out any detail, however small or insignificant.”
    “There’s nothing to tell. I went out with Andrew last night, and Jed met him when I was kicking him out.”
    “You kicked Jed out?”
    “Andrew—he made a pass,” Dora said with the last of her patience. “And I kicked him out. Now, if we’ve finished our little gossip session—”
    “Almost. What does he do? Jed, I mean. He must lift weights or something to have shoulders like that.”
    “I never knew you had such a shoulder fixation.”
    “I do when they’re attached to a body like that one. Let’s see, he’s a longshoreman.”
    “Nope.”
    “A construction worker.”
    “You lose the trip for two to Maui. Would you like to try for the Samsonite luggage?”
    “Just tell me.”
    Dora had spent part of her sleepless night digging up Jed’s application. One of his references had been Commissioner James L. Riker of the Philadelphia Police Department. Which made sense, she mused, since Jed’s last place of employment had been the Philadelphia PD.
    “He’s an ex-cop.”
    “Ex?” Lea’s eyes went wide. “Christ, he was fired from the force for taking bribes? Dealing drugs? For killing someone?”
    “Put your imagination on hold, sweetie.” Dora patted hersister’s shoulder. “I swear, you should have been the one to take after Mom and Dad on the stage. He resigned,” she said. “A few months back. According to the copious notes Dad took when he called the commissioner of police, Jed’s got a pot full of commendations, and they’re keeping his service revolver warm for him in hopes that he’ll come back.”
    “Well, then why did he quit?”
    “That didn’t seem to be anyone’s business,” she said primly, but she was just as curious, and just as annoyed as Lea that their father hadn’t asked. “Game over.” She held up her hand to ward off another spate of questions. “If we don’t get back inside to help Terri, she’ll make my life a living hell.”
    “All right, but I feel good knowing you’ve got a cop right across the hall. That should keep you out of trouble.” She stopped dead, goggle-eyed. “Oh God, Dory, do you think he was carrying a gun?”
    “I don’t think he’ll need one to deliver dinnerware.” With this, Dora shoved her sister through the door.
     
    Under any other circumstances, DiCarlo would have felt foolish sitting in an elegant reception area holding a cheap statue in his lap. In this particular reception area, decorated with muted Impressionist prints and Erté sculptures, he didn’t feel foolish at all. He felt scared, bone scared.
    He hadn’t really minded the murder. Not that he enjoyed killing like his cousin Guido, but he hadn’t minded it. DiCarlo looked at putting a small-caliber bullet between Porter’s eyes as self-defense.
    But he’d had a lot to worry about on the long flight from east to west coast. Considering his string of bad luck, he wondered whether by some twisted hook of fate he had the wrong statue warming in his lap. It certainly looked like the one he’d seen packed into the crate at Premium. In a just world, there couldn’t be two such ugly porcelain creations in the same small town.
    “Mr. DiCarlo?” The receptionist said. “Mr. Finley will see you now.”
    “Ah, right. Sure.” DiCarlo rose, hooking the statue under his arm and straightening the knot of his tie with his free hand. He followed the blonde to the double mahogany doors and worked on fixing a pleasant smile on his face.
    Finley didn’t rise from behind his desk. He enjoyed watching DiCarlo nervously cross the ocean of white carpet. He smiled, coldly, noting the faint beading of sweat over DiCarlo’s upper lip.
    “Mr. DiCarlo, you have tidied up in the great state of Virginia?”
    “Everything there is taken care of.”
    “Excellent.” He gestured to his desk so that DiCarlo set the statue down. “And this is all you’ve brought me?”
    “I also have a list of the other merchandise. And all the locations.” At the wave of Finley’s fingers, DiCarlo dived into his pocket for the list. “As you see, there were only four other buyers, and two of them are also dealers. I think it should be simple enough to go right into those shops and buy back that