Edwina glared at her. Then she looked away. “I don’t know what came over me. I went back and took an additional two grand one day when she wasn’t home.”

“Oh my Lord!” Meredith cried out.

“I’m sorry. I know it was wrong, but we were broke. We needed the money. The witch just wouldn’t budge!” Edwina exhaled. “Altogether, with the loan and what I took, it was about four thousand and change.”

“How much change?” her sister asked.

“Okay… maybe five thousand total. I’ll give you an additional twenty-five hundred dollars from my share of the eight thousand that Lieutenant Decker found.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Decker said. “As far as I’m concerned, I haven’t given you anything yet.”

“But you said-”

“We’re now up to sixteen thousand six hundred. What happened to the other three thousand four hundred?”

Edwina said, “I swear I only took five thousand at most.” Suddenly, she glared at Meredith with granite eyes. “Okay, little sister, now it’s your turn.”

Meredith stared back, but it lacked ferocity. A minute passed and then she gave up. “Just like you, I needed money.”

“Right! To sustain your nasty habits?”

“I’ve been sober for over two years.” She burst into tears. “My creditors were breathing down my neck. She gave me less than she gave you, for your information! Only fifteen hundred.”

“And the rest you helped yourself to?”

“When you’re a chemically dependent person, you do crazy things. And who are you to judge, Ms. High Horse, with your sticky little hands in the till?”

“You two have plenty of time to snipe at each other when we’re not here,” Decker said. “We’re still about two thousand short.” Meredith looked away and didn’t answer, but that was enough for Decker to fill in the blanks. “Okay, you helped yourself, like your sister. So from what I can figure out, it seems you each stole about the same amount from your mother. It’s a wash.”

Rina said, “Cecily must have found out that either one or both of you were stealing from her. So she hid the money behind the paintings so you wouldn’t be able to get to it anymore.”

“She obviously forgot about it when she made up the will,” Mortimer said.

“Or maybe she wanted you to have it, Rina,” Decker said.

“She distinctly left all the rest of her cash to her daughters,” Mortimer added.

“It doesn’t matter what her intentions were,” Rina said. “We’re giving the money back.”

Decker said, “Before I make out the check, I want to know something. Which one of you showed up right after your mother died, went through her drawer in an attempt to steal the money, but left in a hurry without locking the front door when my wife showed up?”

Rina held up a finger. “You know, Lieutenant, I’d guess that both of them were there and discovered together that the money wasn’t in the drawer,” she postulated. “Otherwise, each one would have accused the other of taking the cash first. And didn’t you think it was odd that they both showed up at the same time but in separate cars when you only called Edwina about the news?”

Decker smiled. “You know? I bet you’re right.”

Meredith and Edwina exchanged knowing glances but kept silent. Finally, Mortimer spoke up. “I think you’ve asked enough questions, Lieutenant Decker. And I think you have enough answers. Can I trust you to write a check?”

Decker grumbled as he took out his checkbook. “Do I make out two checks or what?”

Mortimer said, “I’m the executor of the estate. Just one check, and make it out to me.”

After they got home, Rina said, “We did the right thing.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Decker said. “Why shouldn’t we have the money rather than those two vultures?”

“Because she willed me the artwork, Peter, not the cash.” “Speaking of which, how about that garage sale you keep talking about? The frames alone should net us a couple of bucks.” “Sure,” Rina said, “but give me a little time. Now that this nasty money business is over, I want to look up some of the names of the artists on the Internet. Like Hannah said, some of the works look old. Maybe a few of them are even worth something.”

“Yeah, we’re sitting on an undiscovered Renoir.” Rina laughed. “I’m not saying that, but you never know. Cecily had collected for a long time. And even if the artwork isn’t worth anything, it doesn’t matter. I look at the pictures and I think of Cecily.”

“We can’t keep sixty-three pieces of junky art, Rina.” “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to keep most of them. Just the little magnolia blossom that Hannah loves and our lucky rose painting.”

Decker looked at his watch. “I have some time. Give me the names of the artists, and I’ll look them up.”

“I’ll do it, Peter.”

“No, I’ll do it.” Decker sat down at the computer. “That way it’ll get done. So while I’m going online, get the names you want to look up. Start with the rose painting, if you’re determined to keep it.”

“It’s our lucky painting.”

“Not our lucky painting,” Decker groused. “We didn’t keep the cash!”

She hit his shoulder, then went over to the floral and studied the signature scrawled in the lower left side. “Franz Bischoll.” She spelled it for him.

Decker plugged in the name. On the screen came the words: Did you mean: Franz Bischoff? Absently, he clicked on the name. His eyes widened. His heart started beating faster. “Rina, could it be Franz Bischoff, with two F’s?”

“It could be. Why?”

“Uh, you want to come take a look at this?”

“Why? What is it?”

Decker laughed. “It’s a chance for you to say ‘I told you so.’ And for once, I don’t mind.”

“Open House” is another new story penned for this anthology. Real estate in Southern California took a major price jump in 2005, and there were quite a few houses for sale. As I looked at one of the empty homes, my warped mind thought, What a convenient place to dump a body! I wondered if finding a corpse during a house showing would cool off an overheated market. Probably not in a city that had an attraction called Graveline Tours. It used to take tourists in a hearse to some of L.A. ’s most notable crime scenes!

Georgina thought she was clever, coming twenty minutes earlier than the start time. Unfortunately, there were others who’d had the same idea. Two couples, plus what looked like a mother-daughter combo, were waiting on the sidewalk, sizing up the competition. This was the second and last showing of a new listing, and the Realtors were going to take offers tomorrow night. There were no lookie-loos here: All those present were out for blood.

This meant that Georgina would have to form a plan. Hers was typically blow and go. Sign in and grab a tear sheet, doing mental calculations about house size versus lot size while giving the place a quick once-over. The living room and dining room were public space, ergo usually in decent shape. If a house had a bad living room, it was probably one step ahead of the wrecking ball. Single-family homes showed their true colors in the kitchen and bathrooms; that and the size of the bedroom closets. She and Derek had lots of junk, so closet space would be a priority. If the place flunked any one of the above, there were still three other houses on her list.

This newest one would go fast because it was priced reasonably and in a good neighborhood. In a hot market, Georgina knew, she’d have to move if she wanted a chance at elusive home ownership. She and Derek had already lost two chances through indecision. The next time, Georgina swore, if the place was right, passing the kitchen/bathroom/closet test, she wouldn’t hesitate.

Finally, a black Mercedes pulled up in the driveway. The listing agent was Adele Michaels, and the ad in the paper said she had sold more than twelve million dollars’ worth of real estate this year… which translated to three houses in the flats of Beverly Hills. Of course, Canoga Park wasn’t Beverly Hills, but some areas in the West Hills boasted multimillion-dollar estates complete with swimming pool, tennis court, and home theater. The two-story English-cottage-style house Georgina was looking at wasn’t anywhere close to magnificent, but it wasn’t a shack, either. It had three bedrooms, two and a half baths, and sat on a good-size lot with fruit trees and a two-car garage.