Chapter 30. A Clean Job

When Loren Goodman reached the bottom of the steps, she strolled leisurely to the wine cabinet, her coral-colored night robe swishing around her as she padded across in fluffy slippers.

She opened up a bottle of red wine, poured it into the large glass, and strolled back across the room towards the bay windows that led to the pool. She paused on the way, looked up at the painting hanging on the wall that McCarthy had hung there, gazed at it for a few seconds, then sniffed.

“Tacky,” she said and walked towards the pool, slid open the sliding door, and lounged on the poolside chair.

Carlos stayed in the darkness, nervous. He couldn’t be too rash, and he couldn’t waste too much time either. He could have called in to the crew and had the heist upscaled from a silent one to a violent one. It would be more efficient, and it would give a stronger message, but he didn’t want to resort to that unless he absolutely needed to.

He could sneak across the room and put a