with a wide-toothed comb. She paused to pull on Turner's shirt, then sat on the edge of the bed and watched him drink and chew his onion. He oflFered her the glass of vodka, but she shook her head.
"Not my shtick," she said, "as you well know. Where did you learn to make love like that?"
"My mother taught me," he said.
She laughed. "Not your sister?"
"No, she taught dad."
Felicia laughed again. "You bastard," she said, "you always top me. Listen, I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse."
"Oh?" he said, dropping an ice cube into his vodka.
"When the insurance money comes in, I'm going to have a cool million. I own ten percent of Starrett Fine Jewelry, and that pays me about fifty grand a year in dividends. And when mother shuffles off, I'll be a very, very wealthy lady."
"So?"
"I want to buy you," she said. "I'm proposing, you stinker. Marry me, and you'll be set for life. I'll sign any kind of a prenuptial agreement your shyster comes up with."
He showed no sign of surprise or shock; just began to nibble on the green onion top.
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked.
"Because I'm tired of alley-catting around. I'm tired of one-night stands. I'm tired of burned-out men who are scared of making a commitment. I'm tired of living in my father's house, now my mother's. I want my own home and my own man. I'm about ten years older than you-correct?"
"More like fifteen," he said casually.
"Swine!" she said. "But what the hell difference does age make? I'm as young as you in bed. Right or wrong?"
"Right," he said.
"You betcha. There's nothing you've asked me to do that I haven't done. I can keep up with you. The body's not so bad, is it?"
"The body's good," he acknowledged.
"It should be-the money I spend on it. I may not be a centerfold, but I'm not a dried-out husk either. And you'll be getting financial security for the rest of your life. What do you say?"
He poured more vodka, and this time she lifted the drink from his fingers and took a gulp. She grimaced and handed back the glass.
"What would your family say?" he asked. "Your mother? Clayton?"
"Screw my family," she said wrathfully. "I've got my own life to live. I can't keep living it the way they want me to. I'll bet you don't let Helene run your life."
"Your mother could disown you," he pointed out.
"Not without a helluva court fight," Felicia said. "If she dies and I don't get half the estate, some lawyer is going to earn mucho dinero representing me. But that's all in the future. Right now I've got enough loot so that you and I could live the lush life. Well?"
"Interesting proposition," Turner said. "I'll have to think about it."
"Sure," she said. "Run it through your little computer and see if it doesn't make sense. Now let me prove that marrying me would be the smartest deal you ever made."
He finished his vodka, set the empty glass on the floor. "I have something for you," he said. "Want it now?"
"I thought you'd never ask," she said. "Where is it?"
"Top bureau drawer."
"How much?"
"A gram."
"You darling!" she cried.
Chapter 16
Two days before Christmas, Dora Conti went home to Hartford, lugging an espresso machine in a bulky carton. She had spent more than she intended, but it was a marvelous gadget. Not only did it make espresso and cappuccino, but it also ground coffee beans. And it had enough shiny spigots, valves, dials, and switches to keep Mario happily busy for days while he learned to brew a perfect cup of coffee.
Before she left New York, Dora called John Wenden. He reported there was nothing new on either the Lewis Star-rett or Solomon Guthrie homicides. The Department was checking out all discharged employees of Starrett Fine Jewelry, but it was going to be an arduous task.
"We got their employment records," Wenden said, "but there's been a big turnover in the last two years. This is going to take a long, long time."
"Did you get anything from Records about Callaway or the Pierces?"
"Not yet. They say they're
"Not my shtick," she said, "as you well know. Where did you learn to make love like that?"
"My mother taught me," he said.
She laughed. "Not your sister?"
"No, she taught dad."
Felicia laughed again. "You bastard," she said, "you always top me. Listen, I'm going to make you an offer you can't refuse."
"Oh?" he said, dropping an ice cube into his vodka.
"When the insurance money comes in, I'm going to have a cool million. I own ten percent of Starrett Fine Jewelry, and that pays me about fifty grand a year in dividends. And when mother shuffles off, I'll be a very, very wealthy lady."
"So?"
"I want to buy you," she said. "I'm proposing, you stinker. Marry me, and you'll be set for life. I'll sign any kind of a prenuptial agreement your shyster comes up with."
He showed no sign of surprise or shock; just began to nibble on the green onion top.
"Why would you want to do that?" he asked.
"Because I'm tired of alley-catting around. I'm tired of one-night stands. I'm tired of burned-out men who are scared of making a commitment. I'm tired of living in my father's house, now my mother's. I want my own home and my own man. I'm about ten years older than you-correct?"
"More like fifteen," he said casually.
"Swine!" she said. "But what the hell difference does age make? I'm as young as you in bed. Right or wrong?"
"Right," he said.
"You betcha. There's nothing you've asked me to do that I haven't done. I can keep up with you. The body's not so bad, is it?"
"The body's good," he acknowledged.
"It should be-the money I spend on it. I may not be a centerfold, but I'm not a dried-out husk either. And you'll be getting financial security for the rest of your life. What do you say?"
He poured more vodka, and this time she lifted the drink from his fingers and took a gulp. She grimaced and handed back the glass.
"What would your family say?" he asked. "Your mother? Clayton?"
"Screw my family," she said wrathfully. "I've got my own life to live. I can't keep living it the way they want me to. I'll bet you don't let Helene run your life."
"Your mother could disown you," he pointed out.
"Not without a helluva court fight," Felicia said. "If she dies and I don't get half the estate, some lawyer is going to earn mucho dinero representing me. But that's all in the future. Right now I've got enough loot so that you and I could live the lush life. Well?"
"Interesting proposition," Turner said. "I'll have to think about it."
"Sure," she said. "Run it through your little computer and see if it doesn't make sense. Now let me prove that marrying me would be the smartest deal you ever made."
He finished his vodka, set the empty glass on the floor. "I have something for you," he said. "Want it now?"
"I thought you'd never ask," she said. "Where is it?"
"Top bureau drawer."
"How much?"
"A gram."
"You darling!" she cried.
Chapter 16
Two days before Christmas, Dora Conti went home to Hartford, lugging an espresso machine in a bulky carton. She had spent more than she intended, but it was a marvelous gadget. Not only did it make espresso and cappuccino, but it also ground coffee beans. And it had enough shiny spigots, valves, dials, and switches to keep Mario happily busy for days while he learned to brew a perfect cup of coffee.
Before she left New York, Dora called John Wenden. He reported there was nothing new on either the Lewis Star-rett or Solomon Guthrie homicides. The Department was checking out all discharged employees of Starrett Fine Jewelry, but it was going to be an arduous task.
"We got their employment records," Wenden said, "but there's been a big turnover in the last two years. This is going to take a long, long time."
"Did you get anything from Records about Callaway or the Pierces?"
"Not yet. They say they're
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