Hidden Riches

interrupted faded. The situation had possibilities, previously unexplored ones.
    The woman who was bending and stretching at the foot of the bed had performed a very intriguing striptease and was now wearing only a couple of very tiny, very lacy black swatches. DiCarlo studied the smooth curve of her bottom as Dora bent to touch her toes.
    She was beautifully built, in a firm, compact style. And from the way she was moving, it appeared she’d be very, very agile.
    She’d changed his plans, but DiCarlo prided himself on creative thinking. He’d simply wait until the very pretty, very alone lady had gotten into bed.
    Dora turned, and he took the opportunity to admire the thrust of lace-trimmed breasts.
    Very nice, he thought, and smiled in the dark. Very nice indeed.
    And once she was in bed, DiCarlo figured it would be a simple matter, using his considerable charms—and his .22 automatic—to convince her to tell him where the painting was.
    And after business, pleasure. He might not even have to kill her afterward.
    Dora shook back her hair, rolled her shoulders. It was as if she were posing, DiCarlo thought. The blood surged into his loins and throbbed impatiently. With her eyes closed and the beginnings of a smile on her face, she circled her head gently.
    She lifted her hands to the front hook of the bra.
    The pounding on her door had Dora jolting. In the closet, DiCarlo’s breath hissed out in a combination of rage and frustration.
    “Hold on!” Dora shouted, grabbing a white terrycloth robe from the foot of the bed. She struggled into it as the pounding continued. Switching on lights as she went, she hurried out to the living room. She hesitated with her hand on the knob. “Jed?”
    “Open up, Conroy.”
    “You gave me a start,” she said as she opened the door. “I was just—” The look on his face stopped her. She’d seen fury before, but never quite so intense, and never aimed so fiercely in her direction. Instinctively, she lifted a hand to her throat and stepped back. “What?”
    “What the hell did you think you were doing?”
    “Ah . . . going to bed,” she said carefully.
    “Do you think because I pay you rent you can use your fucking key and poke through my things anytime you want?”
    She lowered her hand again, gripped the knob firmly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    “Cut the crap.” Jed snagged her wrist and yanked her into the hall. “I know when my place has been tossed.”
    “You’re hurting me.” Her attempt at sternness failed miserably. She was afraid, really afraid he could do a lot worse.
    “You took that risk when you messed with my privacy.” Enraged, he shoved her up against the opposite wall. Her muffled cry of surprised pain only added to his fury. “What were you looking for?” he demanded. “What the hell did you think you’d find?”
    “Let go of me.” She twisted, too terrified for denials. “Take your hands off me.”
    “You want to go through my things?” His eyes burned into hers.
    The animal was out of the cage, was all she could think.
    “You figure because you’ve got me churned up inside you can paw through what I keep in my drawers, in mycloset, and I’ll let it go?” He jerked her away from the wall and, pushed by his own demons, dragged her stumbling after him. “Fine.” He slammed his door open, shoved her inside. “Take a look now. Take a good one.”
    Even her lips had lost color. Her breath shuddered in and out through them. He was between her and the door. There was no possible hope of getting past him toward escape. As her heart drummed hard against her ribs, she saw by his face there was no chance of reason.
    “You’re out of your mind.”
    Neither of them heard DiCarlo slip down the hall and away. They stood two feet apart with Dora tugging with a shaking hand at the robe that had fallen off her shoulder.
    “Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” He moved too quickly for her to evade, grabbing her robe by the lapels and yanking her to her toes. Seams gave way with quick pops. “I was a cop for fourteen Goddamn years. I know the signs.”
    “Stop it!” She shoved against him. The sound of her robe ripping at the shoulder was like a scream. Tears of terror and rage sprang to her eyes, drenching them, clouding her vision. “I haven’t been in here. I haven’t touched anything.”
    “Don’t lie to me.” But the first seed of doubt squeezed through his fury.
    “Let me go.” She tore free,