Murder in the Devil's Cauldron by Kate Ryan Page B

down the driveway, turned
onto the street and vanished under the canopy of old oak trees.
    Even so, he continued to wait. Patience was a
big part of his trade. In this particular instance, it was critical
if he wanted everything to go smoothly. One eye on the clock,
Fowler waited at the window until Diana had been gone for over ten
minutes. Finally, when he was certain she wouldn't be back, he went
back to her closet.
    As he looked through the clothes, he checked
the tags. Lots of Liz Claiborne. Size six.
    Perfect.
    That out of the way, he went through the
dresser. No telling what she might be hiding in there.
Disappointingly, there was nothing he could really use, but he knew
that when people had something they didn't want anyone else to see
or know about, they often tucked that certain something in the
dresser. As if the sight of underwear would keep anyone from
looking any further. It was the first place a burglar would look
and was first on the list of anyone looking for goodies of any
kind. And while Fowler prided himself on not being a burglar, he
was determined to ferret out everything there was to know about
Diana. Especially the things she either wasn't likely to tell him
or the things she didn't want him to know.
    In this case, though, there was little to
find. He grimaced as he finished. Usually women had all kinds of
little secrets tucked away, but not Diana. It wasn’t a big deal as
far as the end result went, but he liked the knowing that came with
the finding. He liked knowing that she kept a certain something in
the bottom drawer. Or that she kept an extremely graphic diary
hidden under the fat jeans. Or maybe even that she hid racy
lingerie underneath the sensible white cotton panties.
    It was such a rush talking to someone who had
no idea that he knew all their tasty little secrets. He loved
knowing who they really were when they were at home and thought
they were alone. And that gave him a handle on how to get
what he wanted. Especially since most people projected an image
that was nothing like the real person underneath. He had good
instincts, but when he knew what someone was hiding, it was as if
he now had a corkscrew to open the wine instead of a can
opener.
    Fowler heard a thump and hurried back to the
window, half afraid Diana had decided to skip her appointment after
all. But when he looked down at the drive, there was no sign of her
red convertible and he allowed himself to breathe again. Even so,
he waited for a long couple of minutes just to be safe. When the
driveway remained clear, he went downstairs to Diana's office.
    He had persuaded her to give her assistant a
couple of days off. Diana thought it was so they would have time
alone together. It hadn't been a hard sell. She was eager to
believe that sort of thing. That had been her payoff. His was that now he had the place all to himself.
    The earlier search in the bedroom had given
him the necessary details and the hope for a few tasty little
secrets. The search of the office, though, was critical to making
everything work.
    Fowler sat down and surveyed the desk. The
only items in plain view were the usual office accessories, so he
started with the drawers. After the desk came the files and little
by little the room gave up its secrets. The bank accounts,
important names, important numbers. The information that was going
to make his new life possible. The information he needed to
successfully pull off the con after the honeymoon.
    Finally only the computer remained.
    He checked the time and scowled. The search
had taken longer than he had planned and he realized Diana could
return at any moment now. The last thing he needed was for her to
find him going through her things before the ink was dry on their
marriage license.
    On the other hand, he had what he needed to
make his plan work. If he had the chance to tackle the computer
before they left for the North Shore, he'd do it then. Otherwise,
he'd have to deal with it when he got back.
    Fowler