The Goddaughter's Revenge Read Online Free Page B

list (God help anyone who was invited but didn’t come).
    My job was to find a dress.
    Pete’s job was to show up on the day.
    â€œIf I don’t show up, you’ll know I’m dead,” he assured me.
    â€œIf you don’t show up, you will be dead,” I said knowingly.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    In my book Burglary for Dummies , there is going to be a chapter called “The Art of Blackmail.” Personally, I don’t hold with blackmail as a career choice. But there are times when mutual blackmail can be mutually beneficial.
    It was Sunday afternoon. Pete was glued to the television, watching football. I waved a hand and told him I was going to the store. That was a lie.
    I really didn’t need Nico for this burglary, because I already had the front-door key. How? Well, you see my uncle Vince happens to own this housecleaning company called Maids-a-Go-Go. Yup, it is darn handy having a cleaning company in the family.
    But it’s always good to have a wingman in case things go wrong. So I called Nico and told him to meet me at this address in Aldershot.
    I’d done my research. Mrs. Wilson had canceled their cleaning for Wednesday. That meant they weren’t going to be around. People often do that to save money if they’re going away. Why pay for a house to be cleaned if you aren’t going to be there for a while?
    And no security alarm. I knew that because the Maids were able to use the key to get in while Mrs. Wilson was out shopping and didn’t have to worry about setting off alarms. She went shopping a lot.
    To be honest, the Wilson house probably didn’t merit an alarm. It was in a nice area of Aldershot, but it wasn’t a showstopper.
    Nico stood gazing at it, then gave a long sigh. “I’m not looking forward to this one, Gina. I mean, really. Look at that exterior.”
    Long, low brick bungalow in an unappealing baby-poop brown. Not a lot of money had been spent on the thing in, say, thirty years. The current Mrs. Wilson was the second Mrs. Wilson, and a lot younger than her husband. It was rumored that all his money got spent on her upkeep.
    â€œJust don’t move anything,” I ordered.
    â€œProbably isn’t anything worth moving, except to the trash,” Nico muttered.
    I walked up to the front door, Nico following reluctantly. The key worked like a charm. I opened the door and stepped in.
    No dogs to worry about. I’d checked that out too.
    The living room was directly ahead, and the drapes were closed.“They’re away in Vegas, according to Maids-a-Go-Go. Chances are she didn’t take the ring. Most people don’t take their best stuff when they travel.” I felt it my duty to educate Nico, since he was younger than me.
    The kitchen was to the left. The bedrooms were down a dark hallway to my right. The master bedroom was at the end.
    â€œYou wait here while I search the master bedroom. DON’T MOVE ANYTHING!”
    Nico stared mournfully at the living room. He moaned as if truly in pain.
    â€œIt’s too awful. Look at that flower brocade from the eighties.”
    I was already moving down the hall. The door to the master was ajar. The blinds were closed, so I slipped through the doorway and fumbled for the light switch with my right hand.
    Flick.
    â€œWhat the hell?”
    My eyes followed the voice. A figure turned over on the bed.
    I stared.
    â€œEEEK!” shrieked a female voice. “Eddie?”
    Oops. It appeared not everyone who lived in this house was on vacation. One rather well-endowed male was vaulting off the bed. He didn’t have any clothes on. And he wasn’t Mr. Wilson. Worse, I knew him. Worse, so did Nico.
    â€œUncle Manny?” I squeaked.
    â€œDAD?” Nico had raced up behind me.
    The man in question froze like a statue. His head whipped around. He squinted.
    â€œGina? NICO? What the fuck are you doing here?”
    â€œMore to the point, what are YOU doing here?”