Secrets in Death (In Death 45)

“You said it would take time.”

“A bit, and it did.”

She sat beside him, opened the door.

“Whoa.”

Stacks of bills filled an entire section. Eve pulled one out. “Hundreds of thousand-dollar wraps. There has to be…”

As she tried to calculate, Roarke measured the stash using his hands. “If they’re all the same wrap, you’d have about a million.”

“She’s got a freaking million dollars in her closet safe?”

“It’s an excellent safe.”

“Says the man who cracked it in under ten.” She drew out a leather jewelry case from another stack, another section, opened it to the flash and fire of diamonds. “Real?” she asked Roarke.

He took it, examined it under the light. “I don’t happen to have a loupe on me, but yes, quite real. Excellent cut and color. Somewhere around … fifteen carats. Fifty thousand, I’d say, depending on where she got it.”

She pulled out a leather box, found diamond drop earrings.

“Quite nice,” Roarke said. “They’d look well on you. I can estimate, Eve, but from the amount here, you’re better off with a reputable jeweler.”

Still, curious, he slipped a larger box out of yet another section, admired the emerald-and-diamond cuff. “Lovely craftsmanship on this. If all the pieces in here come to the quality we’ve seen so far, she has well over in jewelry what she has in cash. I repeat, the woman knew how to invest.”

She held out her hand. He closed the box, kissed her cheek again, and handed the box to her.

And grinned when she opened it again, just to check.

“Everything back in. I’m not going to transport all this in my damn car. Lock it back up.”

She put the necklace case in, the earring case.

Roarke tapped her shoulder, opened his hand. The earrings sparkled in his palm.

She wanted to laugh, but only rolled her eyes.

Grinning, he dropped them into her outstretched hand. “Haven’t lost my touch.”

“I’ll give you some touch,” she parried as she stowed the earrings.

“I’m counting on it. Give me a moment and I’ll reboot the safe.”

“Reboot it?”

“I’ll reprogram it so it takes your codes, your print. Another bit of time, and then when you have it transported, you’ll be able to open it without any fuss.”

She finished up the closet while he worked.

“First code?”

She used her badge number, then followed instructions and pressed her right thumb to the pad.

“Second code?”

“Sticky fingers.”

He laughed, programmed it in. Shut the safe.