Hidden Riches

Terri said quietly. “I showed it Christmas Eve, right before closing. And I’m positive I saw it here yesterday when I sold the Doulton figure. They were side by side; I would have noticed if it had been missing then.”
    “All right.” Dora patted Terri’s shoulder soothingly. “Let’s look around.”
    Even the first glance was alarming. Dora homed in on a satinwood bonheur. She made sure to keep her voice calm and low. “Terri, have you sold anything this morning?”
    “A tea set—the Meissen—and a couple of cigarette cards. Lea sold the mahogany cradle and a pair of brass candlesticks.”
    “You didn’t sell anything else?”
    “No.” Terri’s already pale cheeks went whiter. “What is it? Something else is gone.”
    “The vinaigrette, the enamel one that was there.” Dora controlled a curse. “And the inkwell that was beside it.”
    “The pewter?” Terri turned to the bonheur, groaned. “Oh God, Dora.”
    Dora shook her head to ward off any more comment and did a swift tour of the entire shop.
    “The Chelton paperweight,” she said a few moments later. “The Baccarat perfume bottle, the Fabergé desk seal—” That one, priced at $5,200, was tough to swallow. “And the Bakelite cigarette case.” Which, at roughly $3, infuriated her almost as much as the Fabergé. “All small enough to fit into a purse or a pocket.”
    “We haven’t had more than eight or nine people in all morning,” Terri began. “I don’t see how—Oh, Dora, I should have watched more carefully.”
    “It’s not your fault.”
    “But—”
    “It’s not.” Though she felt sick with anger, she slipped an arm around Terri’s waist. “We can’t treat everyone who walks through the door like a shoplifter. We’d end up putting in those damn security mirrors and shoving all our stock behind locked glass. It’s the first time we’ve been hit this hard.”
    “Dora, the Fabergé.”
    “I know. I’ll report it to the insurance company. That’s what they’re for. Terri, I want you to take your lunch break now.”
    “I couldn’t eat.”
    “Then go for a walk. Go buy a dress. It’ll make you feel better.”
    Terri blew her nose. “Aren’t you mad?”
    “Mad? I’m furious.” Her eyes narrowed and snapped. “I’m hoping they come back and try to lift something else so I can break all their sticky little fingers. Now go, clear your head.”
    “Okay.” She blew her nose again and left Dora alone in the small side parlor.
    “Bad?” Lea asked when she stuck her head in.
    “Bad enough.”
    “Honey, I’m sorry.”
    “No ‘I told you to lock things up’?”
    Lea sighed. “I figure this should prove I was right, but after working here these past few weeks, I understand why you don’t. It would spoil the atmosphere.”
    “Yeah.” Defeated, Dora rubbed at the beginning of a headache between her eyes. “You can buy a lot of atmosphere for ten thousand.”
    “Ten thousand,” Lea repeated. Her eyes widened. “Ten thousand dollars? Oh my God, Dory.”
    “Don’t worry, I’m insured. Goddamn it. Look, put up the Closed sign for an hour. Go out and get some lunch or something. I want to go in the back and have a tantrum, and I’d like privacy.”
    “Are you sure?” Lea took one look at the glint in her sister’s eyes. “You’re sure. I’ll lock up.”
    “Thanks.”

CHAPTER
TWELVE
    J ed wondered if going back to the cop shop for the first time since his resignation was just another way to punish himself. He could have set up a meeting with Brent elsewhere and avoided the wrenching reminder that he was now a civilian.
    But Jed walked into his old precinct, the place where he’d spent eight of his fourteen years on the force, because he knew he had to face it. After the way he’d spun out of control the night before, he admitted there were plenty of things he was going to have to face.
    Everything was the same. The air still smelled of spilled coffee, underwashed bodies and stale smoke—all with a much nastier undertone of disinfectant. The walls had been painted recently, but the color was the same institutional beige. The sounds—all familiar. Ringing phones, clattering keyboards, raised voices.
    The fact that he walked in this time without the weight of his weapon strapped to his side made him feel more than awkward. This time he felt naked.
    He nearly walked out again, but two uniforms turned toward the doors on their way to patrol. Recognition flickered on both of their faces.