Free The Sweetheart Racket by Cheryl Ann Smith

shaking.
    Without understanding how the woman could be so devastated over losing that rotten con, and not knowing what to say to stop a possible meltdown, Taryn reached out to touch her arm.
    â€œI’m sorry for your loss,” she said gently. “But he isn’t worth your tears.”
    Mrs. Clark stiffened, then lifted her head.
    â€œYou think I’m this upset about losing Joe?” She snorted and anger flashed. “I’ve already rounded up several local hunters to execute him by firing squad if my PIs find him.” She blew her nose. “No, I’m grieving the loss of my Edward Cucuel.”
    Taryn and Rick shared a look. “Edward who?” Taryn said.
    The woman pointed a finger at the empty spot over the fireplace. “My Edward Cucuel. He was a famous portrait painter. I met him when I was sixteen and he was nearing the end of his life. He asked to paint me and I said yes. After those few days of posing, I never heard from him again and never knew what happened to my painting.”
    She dabbed her eyes and stared off. “My beautiful husband, William, hunted the painting down and purchased it for my fiftieth birthday. He paid a premium, as the owner did not want to part with it. That beauty had hung up there for decades, until Joe Clark stole it from me.”
    Taryn wasn’t a sentimental person but she felt for her. The treasured gift was both a memory of a youthful moment and a loving remembrance of how Jane was once a cherished wife.
    â€œWe’ll do everything we can to get your painting back for you,” Taryn promised. “And see your husband arrested.”
    A sad smile tugged at Mrs. Clark’s mouth.
    â€œHe isn’t my husband. I’ve had the marriage annulled. Well, it was never legal anyway. That much information my lawyers do know. They found a previous wife and her online web page. They never divorced.” She scrubbed her handkerchief under her eyes. “The reason I’m still Mrs. Jane Clark is that I haven’t had the energy to go to the court and have my name changed back to Ellington. It’s humiliating to get duped.”
    â€œThat wasn’t your fault,” Rick said. “My mother was another of his victims.”
    They shared a glance. “The poor dear,” Mrs. Clark said. “Give me her address and I’ll send her one of the voodoo dolls I have of him.”
    Rick hiked up a brow. She nodded. “My friend sewed them as a joke, but I do find jabbing him with pins therapeutic.”
    Despite her current appearance, the lady had a thread of steel in her, Taryn thought. She had little doubt that the firing squad was happily at the ready to take Teddy Brinkman/Joe Clark out at Jane’s call.
    â€œWhy did you marry him in the first place?” Rick asked and shifted on the small seat.
    â€œGreat sex.”
    Taryn glanced to Rick, back, and quipped, “There are worse reasons to marry.”
    The comment earned a full smile from Mrs. Clark. She twisted her pearls with one finger. “Yes, there are.”
    For the next half hour, they sipped tea and ate little sandwiches and learned nothing more than that the couple had met online, had a rushed courtship, and the marriage ended in Joe stealing numerous treasures. Brinkman did like to keep to familiar patterns.
    â€œDid Teddy-slash-Joe bring anything to the marriage that might tell us more about him?” Taryn asked.
    Jane shook her head. “All he had with him were two suitcases full of clothes and a laptop in his Ford Pinto. When he snuck out, he took his clothes and laptop with him, along with my painting and two thousand dollars out of my safe.”
    â€œTwo suitcases isn’t much,” Rick said. “A week or so worth of clothing, tops.”
    â€œWhen I asked him about that, he said he’d lost everything else in a fire,” Jane added. “I’m sorry now that I never pressed him on his history or had him