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rough edge. “You put the matches in the top, then light them on the side. Mountain Dew was a whiskey. This is from the late nineteenth century.” She caught the glimmer of a smile on his face. “Do you like it?”
    â€œIt’s different.”
    â€œI’m very fond of the different.” She kept her handswarm over his for another moment. “Take it. Consider it a housewarming gift.”
    The inexplicable charm the object had for him dimmed considerably. “Hey, I don’t think—”
    â€œIt’s not valuable, monetarily. A neighborly gesture, Skimmerhorn. Don’t be snotty.”
    â€œWell, when you’re so sweet about it.”
    She laughed then and gave his hand a quick squeeze. “I hope your friend likes her gift.” She walked away then to help another customer, but she watched out of the corner of her eye as Jed left the shop.
    An unusual man, she mused. And, of course, the unusual was her stock-in-trade.
    Â 
    DiCarlo raced along the Van Wyck toward the airport, dialing his car phone with one hand and steering with the other. “DiCarlo,” he stated, flipping the phone to speaker. “Get me Mr. Finley.” With his nerves bubbling, he checked his watch. He’d make it, he assured himself. He had to make it.
    â€œMr. DiCarlo.” Finley’s voice filled the car. “You have good news, I assume.”
    â€œI tracked it all down, Mr. Finley.” DiCarlo forced his words into a calm, businesslike tone. “I found out just what happened. Some idiot clerk at Premium switched the shipments. Sent ours to Virginia. I’ll have it straightened out in no time.”
    â€œI see.” There was a long pause. DiCarlo’s bowels turned to ice water. “And what is your definition of ‘no time’?”
    â€œMr. Finley, I’m on my way to the airport right now. I’ve got a flight booked into Dulles and a rental car waiting. I’ll be in Front Royal before five east coast time. I have the name and address where the shipment was misdirected.” His voice weakened. “I’m handling all of this at my own expense, Mr. Finley.”
    â€œThat’s wise of you, Mr. DiCarlo, as I don’t wish for your mistake to cost me more than it already has.”
    â€œNo, sir. And you have my word that this mistake will be corrected expediently.”
    â€œVery well. I’ll expect you to contact me when you reach your destination. Naturally, I’ll want the clerk fired.”
    â€œNaturally.”
    â€œAnd, Mr. DiCarlo? You do know how important that merchandise is to me, don’t you? You will use any means necessary to recover it. Any means at all.”
    â€œUnderstood.” When the connection broke, DiCarlo smiled grimly. The way this mess was screwing up his holiday, he was more than ready to use any means. Any means at all.

CHAPTER
FOUR
    â€œT his is quite a mix-up, isn’t it?” While he asked this rhetorical—and to DiCarlo, unamusing—question, Sherman Porter rummaged through his dented file cabinet.
    â€œGuess we’d have caught it here, but we had ourselves an auction going on,” Porter continued as he carelessly destroyed the filing system. “Hell of a turnout, too. Moved a lot of inventory. Shitfire, where does that woman put things?”
    Porter opened another file drawer. “Don’t know how I’m supposed to find anything with Helen off for a week visiting her daughter in D.C. You just did catch me. We’ll be closing till New Year’s.”
    DiCarlo looked at his watch. Six-fifteen. His time was running out. As for patience, even the dregs of that had vanished. “Maybe I didn’t make myself clear, Mr. Porter.The return of this merchandise is vitally important to my employer.”
    â€œOh, you made that clear. A man wants what’s his, after all. Here now, this looks promising.” Porter unearthed a short stack of