Hidden Riches Read Online Free PDF

weren’t marked, nor had they been packed with anysort of system. If there had been any practical genes in the Skimmerhorn blood, he figured Elaine had gotten his share as well as her own.
    The fresh thought of his sister made him swear again, softly through his teeth. He knew better than to let the thought dig roots, for if it did it would bloom with guilt. Over the past month he’d become all too aware that guilt could give you night sweats and a dull, skittering sense of panic.
    Sweaty hands and panic weren’t desirable qualities in a cop. Nor was the tendency to uncontrollable rage. But he wasn’t a cop anymore, Jed reminded himself. His time and his choices, as he’d told his grandmother, were his own.
    The apartment was echoingly empty, which only served to satisfy him that he was alone. One of the reasons he’d chosen it was because he’d have only one neighbor to ignore. The other reason was just as simple, and just as basic: It was fabulous.
    He supposed he’d lived with the finer things for too long not to be drawn to them. However much he claimed that his surroundings didn’t matter, he would have been quietly miserable in some glossy condo or soulless apartment complex.
    He imagined the old building had been converted into shop and apartments sometime in the thirties. It had retained its lofty ceilings and spacious rooms, the working fireplace and slim, tall windows. The floors, a random-width oak, had been highly polished for the new tenant.
    The trim was walnut and uncarved, the walls a creamy ivory. The old man had assured Jed they could be painted to suit his tastes, but home decorating was the last thing on Jed’s mind. He would take the rooms precisely as they were.
    He unearthed a bottle of Jameson, three-quarters full. He studied it a moment, then set it on the table. He was shoving packing paper aside in search of a glass when he heard noises. His hands froze, his body braced.
    Tilting his head, he turned, trying to locate the source of the sound. He’d thought he’d heard bells, a tingling echo. And now laughter, a smoky drift of it, seductive and female.
    His eyes turned to the brass, open-work floor vent near the fireplace. The sounds floated up through it, some vague, some clear enough that he could hear individual words if he chose to listen.
    There was some sort of antique or curio shop beneath the apartment. It had been closed for the last couple of days, but it was apparently open for business now.
    Jed went back to his search for a glass and tuned out the sounds from below.
     
    “I really do appreciate your meeting us here, John.” Dora set a newly acquired globe lamp beside the antique cash register.
    “No problem.” He huffed a bit as he carted another crate into the overflowing storeroom. He was a tall man with a skinny frame that refused to fill out, an honest face that might have been homely but for the pale, shy eyes that peered at the world from behind thick lenses.
    He sold Oldsmobiles in Landsdowne and had been named Salesman of the Year two years running using a low-key, almost apologetic approach that came naturally to him and charmed the customers.
    Now he smiled at Dora and shoved his dark-framed glasses back up his nose. “How did you manage to buy so much in such a short time?”
    “Experience.” She had to rise on her toes to kiss John’s cheek, then she bent and scooped up her younger nephew, Michael. “Hey, frog face, did you miss me?”
    “Nuh-uh.” But he grinned and wrapped his pudgy arms around her neck.
    Lea turned to keep an eagle eye on her two other children. “Richie, hands in your pockets. Missy, no pirouetting in the shop.”
    “But, Mom . . .”
    “Ah.” Lea sighed, smiled. “I’m home.” She held out her arms for Michael. “Dora, do you need any more help?”
    “No, I can handle it from here. Thanks again.”
    “If you’re sure.” Dubiously, Lea glanced around the shop. It was a mystery to her how her sister could function in