the criminal genius type. In fact, he wasn't the genius type at all. Morris was the muscle in the Ehrlenspiegl heist; she was the brains. He probably hid the jewels somewhere in his apartment. Susan grimaced. Morris was a pig, and his apartment was worse than a sty. She wasn't looking forward to picking through his dirty underwear on the floor. But for another one million dollars, she could afford to buy a box of latex gloves so she wouldn't have to touch anything in that dump!

Susan kicked herself. She should never have trusted him. His sharp chin, bony frame and beady little eyes seemed so endearing two years ago when they first met. Those should have given her a clue. Oh, well, at least Morris wasn't going to give her any more trouble.

She had spiked his beer with sedatives last night after their attempted break in at the museum. Despite his lanky frame, Morris had the strength of two men. She needed the sedatives. Drowning him in the Cuyahoga was easy enough after he had passed out. Why should she feel guilty? He deserved what he got afterall!

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