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Back Fleeced Save as PDF
Chapters (84)
  1. Acknowledgments
  2. FLEECED
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. 48
  51. 49
  52. 50
  53. 51
  54. 52
  55. 53
  56. 54
  57. 55
  58. 56
  59. 57
  60. 58
  61. 59
  62. 60
  63. 61
  64. 62
  65. 63
  66. 64
  67. 65
  68. 66
  69. 67
  70. 68
  71. 69
  72. 70
  73. 71
  74. 72
  75. 73
  76. 74
  77. 75
  78. 76
  79. 77
  80. 78
  81. 79
  82. 80
  83. 81
  84. About the Author

“We’ll keep digging,” Brier assured her. “The prints take time, and we’ll follow up on any leads from these lists.”

“Ronald,” Regan began.

“Yes?”

“Did you find anything on Lydia—the woman who owns the dating service?”

On the other end, Brier tapped his pen on the desk. “Not much. I called the funeral home. I’m sure you know how it is, Regan, with your father being in the funeral business. When someone dies there’s a lot of gossip. Apparently, Lydia lived right across the hall from this woman, Mrs. Cerencioni. She’d show up with food, run errands for her, that kind of thing. Lydia would joke with her about how they should both find rich husbands. The policeman who arrived on the scene when Mrs. Cerencioni died said Lydia was very upset at the time. It was the neighbors in the building who were saying mean things.” Brier laughed. “I think they were jealous the old lady didn’t leave them any money.”

“So that’s all it was?”

“Regan, you never know. Maybe she did have a motive for being so kind. But no one knew how much money the old lady had. Who knows? Maybe Lydia had somehow found out and set her sights on the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, as they say. Mrs. Cerencioni didn’t have any relatives.”

I guess there’s no need for me to call the Connollys, Regan thought. “By the way,” she said. “What did Mrs. Cerencioni die of?”

“She fell in the bathtub.”

Oh, great, Regan thought. That’s just great.

77

Janey felt a sense of empowerment. I’m going to bring those sheep back to the club myself, she thought. That’s all there is to it.

From the backseat she instructed the cabdriver to change lanes several times.

“Okay, lady, okay,” the driver shouted as he snapped his fingers to the music on the radio.

On a downtown street that looked as if it could use serious rehabilitation, Janey’s cab pulled up behind Daphne’s. Janey threw a few bills at the driver and jumped out, just catching the door that Daphne had run through before it shut and locked. Daphne dashed up the staircase to the second floor.

She moves fast, Janey thought. But so can I. Janey ran up the steps after her and caught up to her on the landing.

“Daphne!” Janey yelled.

Daphne hurled herself around with fire in her eyes. “What do you want, you little food grubber?”

“I’ll choose to ignore that,” Janey said politely. “You know what I’m here for. Dolly and Bah-Bah. It’s time to bring them home.”

“My career will be ruined if they have to leave,” Daphne insisted.