Dusted by Holly Jacobs Page A

because she reverted back to what I was pretty sure was her default expression…haughty. “No. What does that have to do with our stolen artwork?”
    “Nothing.” I was pretty sure she wouldn’t understand if I tried to explain. “I was just curious. I have three boys.”
    “Of course you do.”
    Now, I’m not sure, but I think that was meant as an insult. That kidney-stone expression had been replaced by an almost sneer.
    “And you’re a maid,” she added.
    Yep, I’m sure it was an insult.
    “I own the business,” I said with pride, then I wished I hadn’t tried to defend myself to this woman.
    “Well, you should have done a better job screening your employees.”
    “You don’t know that Theresa had anything to do with the missing art.”
    “I know she was one of the few people who had a key.”
    “Who else did?” I asked, forgetting Dick was supposed to be the insurance investigator.
    Obviously, Miriam hadn’t forgotten. “Isn’t he supposed to be asking the questions?”
    I jerked my head in Dick’s direction. “It doesn’t matter who asks them, he needs to know.”
    “I do,” he agreed.
    “I already told the police and the other insurance agents that my husband’s partner, our cleaning service—meaning you—and our neighbor, Julian Mello, all have keys.”
    “Your husband’s partner is?”
    “Neville’s partner is John Meyers. Their investment group is Graham and Meyers Associates, and if you’re implying that John came in and stole our paintings, you’re way off the mark.”
    “I wasn’t—”
    Dick reached out and touched my arm. “I’m sure Quincy didn’t mean to imply anything. I need to know who had keys in order to eliminate them as suspects.”
    “I’m positive my neighbor and my husband’s partner did not steal my art. I can’t say that I have as much confidence that someone from Mac’Cleaners didn’t take it.”
    I was back to wishing this was a movie. Pretty Woman to be exact. Any moment Richard Gere would walk in and scoop me up and carry me away from this place. Never mind, that fantasy was from An Officer and a Gentleman , and I was Quincy Mac. I’d already proven that I didn’t need a man to rescue me.
    “Thank you for your help, ma’am,” Dick said.
    He grabbed my arm again and led me toward the front door.
    “Thank you for your help, ma’am,” Dick said again and led me out of the house.
    “What was that?” he asked.
    “I don’t like her,” I mumbled. “She was very stuck up when I met her at the gallery and once she realized I was a maid today, she was even worse.”
    “That doesn’t matter,” he said. “What matters is figuring out who stole the art.”
    “Yes.”
    “So, let’s see if Robert will run a check on Graham and Meyers Associates and more specifically John Meyer.”
    I nodded. “I’m going to owe your friend a ton of money.”
    “I’ve been to his house. I’m betting you can barter housecleaning for technical expertise.”
    “Is it bad?”
    “Awful.”
    “I’ll ask him.” And I knew just who I’d send to clean his awful house. Theresa.
    Dick and I walked down the block to the neighbor’s house. Now in most neighborhoods, you could toss a ball and hit a neighbor’s house. Not so much on this particular street. It wasn’t only the distance but the large stone wall and various trees and bushes that separated the two properties that would make tossing a ball at Julian Mello’s house an issue.
    Julian Mello was built like a linebacker. I’d heard that phrase and never understood it until the moment when I stood in front of the giant of a man. He wasn’t only a big man, but he had a rock-hard looking build. Let’s put it this way, if he’d been Mr. Banning’s murderer and I’d had to fight him for my life…I would have lost.
    But he was saved from looking ominous by the small black dog he was holding. Seriously the dog couldn’t have weighed more than ten pounds, if that. It yapped at us, as if it took its