Hidden Riches

will let me know if you find out anything?”
    “Count on it. You just relax. Jed’ll keep an eye on things.”
    “Well.” She sent Jed a long, cool glance. “I can sleep easy now.”
    “There you go. Merry Christmas.”
    “I’ll walk you out.” Jed nodded to Dora. “I’ll be back.”
    As they walked down the hall, Brent snuck another cookie from under the foil. “You’ve been here what, about a week?”
    “Almost.”
    “How’d you piss her off already?”
    “It’s a gift. Look, why do you figure a pro would break into a junk shop and rifle a bunch of paperwork?”
    “That’s the sixty-four-dollar question.” Brent walked through the rear door, sucking in his breath at the slap of wind. “There’s a lot of valuable stuff in there.”
    “But he didn’t go for the valuable stuff, did he?”
    “Hadn’t gotten around to it. You interrupted him.”
    “He sees lights on upstairs, he cuts the phone wires. He whacks the security system. But he doesn’t go for the Daum Nancy.”
    “The what?”
    “Never mind,” Jed snapped, annoyed with himself. “He goes right for the files.”
    “Because he’s looking for something.”
    “Yeah.” Jed pulled out a cigarette. “But did he get it? And what would anyone look for in the files of a junk shop?”
    “Receipts?” Brent offered as he opened his car door.
    “Inventory lists, names, addresses.”
    “You can take the boy off the force, but you can’t take the force out of the boy.”
    “I take a personal interest when somebody shoots at me.”
    “Can’t blame you for that. We miss you downtown, Captain.”
    Something flickered in Jed’s eyes that might have been grief, then was quickly gone. “The city seems to be hobbling along without me.”
    “Listen, Jed—”
    “Save it.” He wasn’t in the mood for a lecture, or a pep talk, or a guilt trip. “Let me know what comes through.”
    “You’ll be the first.” Brent climbed into the car, rolled down the window. “Oh, and watch your butt, pal. I believe that lady could kick it.”
    Jed’s response was a snort. He headed back inside. He wanted to make certain Dora was locked up for the night before he went back downstairs for another look.
    Just as an interested civilian, he told himself.
    “They’ve cleared out,” he told her when he breezed through her open door. “You can count on Brent. He’s a good detail man.”
    “Terrific. Sit down.”
    “I’ve got stuff to do. Lock your door.”
    “Sit down,” she repeated, and pointed to a chair. “I’m going to clean up that cut.”
    “I can do it myself.”
    “Don’t you know anything, Skimmerhorn? When you’re wounded defending a woman, she’s honor bound to whip out the antiseptic. If I was wearing a petticoat, I’d have to rip it into bandages.”
    Jed skimmed one more look over the glitter of her jumpsuit. “What are you wearing under that?”
    “Excellent muscle tone.” Because she was looking forward to it, Dora dragged him over to the chair. “Now you’re supposed to say, ‘Shucks, ma’am, it’s only a scratch.’ ”
    “It is.” He smiled thinly. “But it could have been worse.”
    “Undoubtedly.” With a whisper of silk, she knelt beside the chair and dabbed at the cut with one of the cotton balls she’d set out. “My sister would say you could have put out your eye. With Lea, everything’s a potential eye poker. She inherited our mother’s worry genes.” Dora soaked another cotton ball and said brightly, “This may sting a bit.”
    As the shallow scratch erupted with fire, Jed snagged her wrist. “Goddamn it, what is that?”
    “Alcohol.” She fluttered her lashes. “It’ll clean out any grit.”
    “Right down to the bone,” Jed muttered.
    “Don’t be a baby, Skimmerhorn. Hold still.”
    He grimaced as she dabbed again. “You called me by my first name when you were clattering down the steps, screaming hysterically.”
    “I never scream hysterically.”
    “You did this time.” He grinned wickedly. “ ‘Jed! Jed! Oh, Jed!’ ”
    Dora dropped the cotton ball into a shallow enamel bowl. “At the time I thought you were about to be murdered. Unfortunately, I was wrong.” She put a thumb to his chin to push his head to the side, examining the cut. “Do you want a Band-Aid?”
    “No.” His eyes gleamed. “Aren’t you going to kiss it?”
    “No.” She rose then, started to pick up the bowl, set it down again. “Listen, I’ve got to ask. I know what you’ll say.