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indulged in another, with Joe sharing the shower, slowly rubbing shower gel across her fevered flesh.
    Get a grip, Sally!
    As she toweled off, she focused on the ugly scar tissue marring her leg. What man would want to join her in the shower and look at
that?
Sight of her disfigurement jerked her from her erotic daydreams, dousing her with an icy torrent of reality.
    Composed and dressed, Sally later flung clothes into the washing machine, then joined her father in the living room. He didn’t acknowledge her presence, which wasn’t unusual. During a muted commercial break, Sally made a stab at conversation.
    “Leo Desalvo’s Darrin doesn’t have an original motor, Dad. But somebody went to a lot of trouble to fake it.”
    “They faked it?” Her father glanced at her, frowning. So she’d gotten his attention. “How?”
    “Somebody forged an engine number plate, even engraving an authentic-looking serial number. It’s not a valid number, but close enough the average collector wouldn’t catch it unless he checked.”
    “Any AACA judge would question it,” he said, referring to the Antique Automobile Club of America inspection. “I hope Leo didn’t pay much for it.”
    “Me, too.” Would it have caused enough of a financial loss to make Leo kill himself?
    “Have you told his son yet?” Her father’s attention drifted back to the TV.
    “Not yet. I’ll tell him tomorrow. Roy’s going to put it on the lift and identify the engine first. It looks like a Ford.”
    He un-muted the basketball game, shutting her out by remote control. Sally wanted to talk about the FBI investigation, especially her part in it. If only things were different, she could ask for her dad’s guidance.
    Unable to get interested in the game, she dug through the stack of magazines on the floor beside the sofa until she found her latest issue of
Healthy Body
. She’d try again with her dad during the next commercial if he hadn’t fallen asleep by then.
    When she blinked open her eyes to an empty room an hour later, she realized she’d been the one to fall asleep. Closing the forgotten magazine, Sally limped to the washing machine. She needed to stay awake until the dryer stopped, so her unplanned nap was probably for the best. Her dad’s footsteps overhead told her she’d lost her opportunity to seek his advice tonight.

    The next day, Roy lowered the hydraulic lift and gave Sally a quick nod. “We were right. It’s a Ford 170.”
    “What does the car need to run right?”
    He shrugged. “Just a tune-up. Except for the motor discrepancy, it’s in good shape.”
    The telephone rang. “I’ll get it, Roy.”
    Pleased with her faster gait, she hobbled to the office and answered on the third ring. The additional leg exercises were paying off. “Mustang Sally’s garage.”
    “Sally? It’s Joe Desalvo.”
    His smooth baritone shot a jolt of pleasure through her. “Hi, Joe. We’re just taking your Darrin off the lift.”
    “So you’ll be able to give me that estimate this evening?”
    “Evening?”
    “I’m asking again, Sally. Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
    “And I’m telling you again, no.” Then she added in her sweetest tone, the one she saved for telemarketers who called at dinnertime, “But thank you for asking.”
    “You have to eat, don’t you? Couldn’t we grab a couple of rolled oysters at Mazzoni’s?”
    God, she loved rolled oysters, and Mazzoni’s had the best in the world. Besides, hadn’t Special Agent Ferguson asked for her help? She’d agreed to find out what she could about the Desalvo family’s business. She needed to spend time with Joe, gain his confidence, if she wanted to learn what he knew about his father’s activities.
    “Okay.”
    “Okay?” A pause. “Is that ‘okay’ as in ‘yes, I’ll have dinner with you, Joe’?”
    “You played upon my one weakness.”
    “Hmm.”
    She cleared her throat. “Rolled oysters.”
    “Darn. And I thought it was me.”
    He sounded so