Realtors For Sale

by Diane Rapp

  Paxton enjoyed seeing her smile. “So you grew up in Santa Barbara?” he asked. He didn’t want to admit he’d looked her up in his high school yearbook.

  Nodding, Tamara said, “Jeff and I met at UCSB. After we were married we wandered around the country for a few years. We moved back here to be close to Aunt Jessica. She’s getting older and might need family to take care of her soon. Little did I know, Jessica would take care of me after Jeffrey passed away. My sister came up from L.A., but she couldn’t stay away from her family for very long. Jessica saved my sanity, and now she’s ready to help me again.”

  He reached across the table and covered her hand with his own. “Did you get any sleep last night? I hate to mention it, but you’ve got dark circles under your eyes.”

  “I know.” She gazed into his face and chuckled. “You’ve got syrup on your chin, so we make a great pair.”

  Standing, he pulled her up from the table. “I’ll do the dishes while you pack a bag. We need to stop at your office to ask questions about that FAX, and then you will introduce me to Aunt Jessica.”

  “I love a man who does dishes without being asked,” she mumbled and left the room.

  “Dishes? I’ve wasted tons of money on flowers and candy when the secret is washing dishes,” he called down the hall. Squirting liquid dish soap into the porcelain sink, he turned on the hot water faucet. Bentley sat in the doorway watching him intently. “Am I doing it right?” he asked. The poodle issued a soft “woof” and settled down with his chin resting on his paws.

  Ten minutes later, Tamara set a packed bag at the top of the stairs. “Ready when you are, Paxton.” She glanced at the door at the bottom of the steps and shuddered.

  Paxton wiped his hands on an embroidered dishtowel and entered the hallway with Bentley at his heels. “He’s a quick dog, isn’t he? I didn’t notice a tiny scrap of bacon left in the pan until it fell on the floor. He cleaned up before I could say a word.”

  Tamara chuckled. “No stray food will ever fall unnoticed in this house. He can catch a morsel before it hits the floor, which makes cleaning up easier. Bentley, want to go for a ride?”

  Bentley dashed down the steps and waited patiently at the door. Paxton noticed the fearful expression in Tamara’s eyes and said, “The guy is gone. Our team checked the area carefully and found tire tracks just down the road.”

  She nodded. “But he won’t stay away unless he’s caught.” With a sad gesture she added, “I won’t be living here anymore. Did you see the expression on my landlord’s face? I’m sure he was calculating how much more he could get for rent when I move out. He might use this event as an excuse to give me notice to move out, but I really don’t care.”

  Paxton followed her down the shaded walkway to her green Honda. “Give me your keys, and I’ll drive your car. I don’t want anyone following us.”

  “You think he’ll follow my car to Aunt Jessica’s house?” she asked in a worried tone of voice.

  “I’ve taken courses in defensive driving, so I’ll make sure we avoid him,” he said with conviction as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  Tamara cringed. Her cute little green car stood out which was usually convenient. In parking lots she just had to look for a shiny green color. Now, she wondered if she’d ever feel safe again. She opened the door and flipped the latch to open the suicide door in back.

  After receiving permission, Bentley hopped into the back seat and gazed out the window. Tamara climbed into the passenger’s seat and buckled her seatbelt. Bentley poked his head through the space between the front seats and touched her arm with his nose. She opened a plastic container and tossed him a dog biscuit. He settled down on the floor behind the driver’s seat and crunched the cookie with pleasure.

  As he started the engine, Paxton said, “I need to arrange for someone to fetch my car.” He swiped an app on the screen of his phone and touched the speaker symbol. “Jerry, I need you to do me a favor.” Paxton pulled out of the driveway, watching for other cars.

  “Anything for you, boss,” the male voice on the phone replied.

  “I just texted you an address. Open the top right drawer of my desk and find my extra set of car keys. I need you to pick up Dotty and drive her to my cottage,” Paxton said.

  “Wow! You know how long I’ve hankered to drive your sports car! Thanks, boss.”

  Paxton rolled his eyes. “Don’t get too excited, Jerry. If you put one scratch on Dotty’s paintjob, I’ll know it, buddy. Park her carefully in my garage. I’ll be in touch with further instructions.”

  “You can count on me! No fender benders and Dotty will be safe in the garage,” Jerry stated.

  “Dotty? You named your car?” Tamara asked.

  He shrugged. “Doesn’t everybody. I bet you’ve got a name for this Honda, don’t you?”

  “I call her Kiwi. Her paint color is kiwi green so it’s appropriate.” Tamara folded her arms as Paxton drove down the winding roads toward town.

  “I shortened Datsun 280Z to Dotty.” He flashed her a mischievous grin and Tamara couldn’t help but smile.

  She relaxed until she noticed Paxton’s eyes narrowed as a burgundy van pulled out of a hidden driveway. He watched it in the rearview mirror for a few tense moments.

  “Do we have a tail?” Tamara asked, fear causing her voice to rise in pitch.

  “Not sure just yet, but we’ll lose them in a minute.” He made a sharp turn up an alleyway and sped past backyard fences and garbage cans. His next turn led through a parking garage on the fringe of the city, but the van was nowhere in sight. “Guess we lost him.”

  Tamara’s knuckles had turned white as she gripped the armrest tightly. “Maybe I need to take a defensive driving course,” she mumbled. Paxton winked as he made another sharp turn.

  A few minutes later Paxton pulled into the city parking lot behind the real estate office. As he got out, he scrutinized the various cars already in the lot, grabbed her bag out of the back seat, and sauntered toward the building.

  “Thanks. It’s always hard to hold Bentley’s leash and carry my stuff,” Tamara said as Bentley heeled at her side.

  “My pleasure. Is this building an original?” he asked as they approached an elaborate mahogany door with etched glass panels.

  “Yes. The house is over a hundred years old. I get tired of Spanish-style reproductions and enjoy a cute little Victorian. If I had enough money, I’d buy an old house and renovate it.” Inside, she unlocked her private office and Bentley dashed into the cozy room. He sniffed every corner before settling onto his dog bed.

  Paxton approved of the dog’s thorough inspection. “He’s got the guard-dog routine in the bag.”

  “He’s always been like that, being a snoop is in his genes.” Tamara stowed her bag under the desk and led Paxton down the hall to a larger office. “Mary, you remember Paxton Johnson, the detective working on the kidnapping case? He needs to examine the FAX from the Board yesterday, the one claiming the kidnapper had been caught.”

  Jumping up from her desk, Mary wrapped Tamara in a warm hug. “I heard about the culprit trying to assault you at the open house. Are you okay? I didn’t expect to see you in the office on a Sunday.”

  “Paxton rescued me just in time, and Bentley took a few good chunks out of the creep. The guy also tried to break into my apartment, so I can’t stay there. In fact I’ve made the decision to move out entirely.”

  Mary leaned against the edge of her desk. “What a terrible ordeal for you. We’ll have Cynthia put together a list of affordable rentals right away, no charge.” She stood and headed down the hall to the receptionist.

  Paxton and Tamara followed Mary, who approached the receptionist. “Patty, can you find the FAX from the Board about the kidnapper? Mr. Johnson needs it for evidence.”

  Patty’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Sure. I’m the one who sent out texts yesterday, and I feel so bad. Do you think the FAX was a phony?” She handed a piece of paper to Paxton.

  He held
it under the lamp and examined it carefully. “It looks real enough, down to the Board’s letterhead. Can you show me a sample of another FAX from the Board for comparison?”

  Patty dug through her files and found several similar papers. “I’m so sorry, Tamara. I guess I should’ve talked with someone directly at the Board to make sure this was legit.” She cast a sideways glance at her boss. “You’re not mad at me are you, Mary?”

  The broker read the FAX herself, and then shrugged her thin shoulders. She replied, “None of us would question an official-looking communication from the Board. However, I think we’ll make it a policy to do follow-up calls in the future.” She turned to Paxton. “Does the FAX look authentic?”

  He sighed and nodded. “It looks official.” He pointed at the numbers along the bottom edge. “However, these identification numbers are completely different from the others. I believe someone used an authentic sheet of letterhead to create this message and sent it from another machine.”

  “That’s terrible!” Mary gasped. “Do you think it went out to all the real estate offices in town? The Board should inform everyone about the problem.”

  Nodding, Paxton held up his hand to stop her from doing anything. “My team already contacted the Board and every office will receive phone calls right away.”

  The phone rang and Patty quickly answered. She turned to Mary and said, “It’s Gloria Crosby.” She covered the phone and whispered to Paxton, “She’s the board president.”

  Mary cast a meaningful glance at Paxton. “I’ll take the call in my office, Patty. In the meantime contact every agent in our office and explain the problem.”

  Mary headed back to her office and waved Paxton and Tamara to take seats while she took the call. “Yes, Gloria, I’m aware of the problem. Tamara was shaken but she’s fine. In fact she’s sitting here in the office with Paxton Johnson, the investigator from the CBI. I’ll put you on speaker phone so we can all hear you.”

  “Tamara, I’m so sorry you experienced such a frightening attack. Please let us know if the Board can do anything to assist you,” Gloria said.

  Blushing, Tamara replied, “I’m okay. I just want to help Paxton find the criminal and put him behind bars.”

  “The Board is ready to assist Mr. Johnson’s team. Two agents are already here taking statements. Is there anything further we can do for you, Mr. Johnson?”

  “Call me Paxton, please. We recommend that someone from the Board call each broker directly to explain about the fraudulent FAX sent out yesterday. The danger is real, so we don’t want another attack to occur today. Tell everyone to disregard FAX communications unless confirmed by phone with a person they recognize at the Board.”

  “Oh! Of course, we’ll get right on it,” Gloria declared. “Do you think he’ll try again?”

  “We believe he might.” Paxton turned to gaze into Tamara’s eyes and gestured toward the door. “Sorry to cut the conversation short, but I must get Tamara Owens into a safe house.”

  Gloria added, “Thank you for rescuing Tamara.”

  Jack Templeton rushed into the building and nearly smashed into Tamara as she left Mary’s office. “Oh! I’m so sorry. This whole kidnapping business has me so rattled. Are you okay?” He turned as Paxton stepped out of Mary’s office.

  “We’re here to check on the bogus FAX,” Tamara explained. “Have you decided how we’re going to handle today’s open house schedule? I won’t do it today.”

  Jack nodded. “I plan to man your open house myself. The other men in the office will take care of the other advertised houses, but we plan to keep the office closed today. I can’t let women work alone until the guy is caught.”

  Paxton led Tamara down the hall, noticing that Bentley stood at the back door growling. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  Bentley stood on his hind legs, set his front paws on the window in the door and issued a series of staccato barks at a man outside. The culprit jumped into a burgundy van and peeled away before Paxton could get a license number.

  “Was that him?” Tamara asked, holding the frantic dog.

  Paxton shook his head. “Couldn’t tell. No way to get a good look through the stained glass in the office door. He must know where your office is located, so we need to use a different car when we leave here.”

  Mary stepped forward. “Take my car. I park it in the enclosed garage and there’s a door connecting from inside.” She dug into her purse and unhooked a car key from her keyring. “I can go home with Jack.”

  Tamara accepted the key with trembling fingers. “Thanks, Mary. I don’t think I’ll come back into the office for a few days. I’ll call for messages…”

  Paxton interrupted, “No one must know where she’s staying, even the people in this office. Someone might make a mistake and say something they shouldn’t.” Paxton took the car key from Tamara’s hand and said, “She’s in protective custody until this is over. Bentley and I will be her guard dogs.”

  Mary handed Tamara a blue knit cap. “Tuck your hair inside, so he doesn’t see you, and wear these big sunglasses.” She pulled a pair of sunglasses out of her purse. “I wear them when I want to avoid being recognized,” she admitted.

  Tamara put the hat and glasses on and stared into the hallway mirror. She giggled. “I will look like a movie star running from the paparazzi.”

  Max tried to get close to the real estate office but his timing was off. The white dog started barking at him from the door, and Max ran to jump into the van. It was lucky he had a driver to help him, since his hand throbbed too much to hold the wheel.

  “You think we should wait around the corner and follow her?” Max asked.

  “No, the Boss says we should head to Hope Ranch and grab the next one on our list. Her open house starts at eleven. This time she won’t get away with the both of us working together. I brought a loaded hypodermic to use.” The man in the slick suit grinned. “Cheer up, we’re all going to be rich soon.”

  Max leaned back in his seat and cradled his hand against his chest. He wondered if it was too soon to swallow another handful of aspirin, but he shook his beer can and knew it was empty. Couldn’t he catch a break?

  Chapter 9 – Brinkerhoff Street

  Although Jessica Miller would soon reach the age of eighty, she was a modern woman, an avid mystery reader, and loved electronics. While aging contemporaries expressed difficulty with using smartphones or the remotes on their newfangled televisions, Jessica loved learning new skills. She bought a desktop computer when they first came out and taught herself to use it without taking a class.

  Recently, she installed gadgets into her vintage Victorian home, truly making life easier, an electric gate to open the fence, cameras and motion sensors tied to a surveillance system, and she had the neighborhood’s only private elevator in her three-story home.

  Mystery novels were Jessica’s secret pleasure. She admired characters like Miss Marple and Sherlock Holmes, and she tried to develop her own powers of observation every day. Having solved a few minor mysteries around the neighborhood, she felt ready to provide her opinion when it was needed.

  As an independent business woman, Jessica never married nor had any children. Tamara was her sister’s granddaughter, but they had become extremely close over the years. As a teenager, the girl asked to work in Jessica’s shop to earn spending money.

  When Tamara’s dad was transferred for his job to Maine, the girl decided to live with Jessica and finish her senior year in high school. She proved to be a wonderful house-guest and the best employee Jessica ever hired.

  Her experience working with Tamara prompted Jessica to teach craft classes in the small house she owned that was connected to her large back yard. The best students were later hired to build pieces of her creations, and now she employed at least twenty people in a real cottage industry. Mothers, who worked part-time while their kids went to school, clever teenagers with nimble fingers, and seniors who needed to supplement retirement income all loved working for
Jessica.

  Later Tamara chose to live in a dorm near college, and Jessica missed having the gregarious teen in the house. She felt overjoyed when Jeff and Tamara moved back to Santa Barbara. Her long-term plan was to pass the entire business down to Tamara one day, but she didn’t want to interfere with the young couple’s plans. When Jeffrey died, Jessica’s heart broke for the young widow. She spent a part of each day with Tamara, making sure the young woman did not give up on life. Although it took two years, she finally felt Tamara was ready to join the real world.

  As Paxton drove Mary’s sedan down State Street, Tamara explained the history of the quaint antique shops on Brinkerhoff Street. “In the 1850s Samuel Brinkerhoff built a stately mansion on a quiet country lane but eventually turned the two-block drive into a full-fledged avenue filled with cottages. When Aunt Jessica bought her house over fifty years ago, she joined a group of other owners to create a neighborhood filled with charming antiques and collectibles shops. People claim it is the heart of the downtown antiques’ district.”

  Although Paxton spent his high school years in Santa Barbara, he had never explored this part of town and loved hearing the enthusiasm in her voice. The car’s GPS directed him to Haley Street and soon told him to turn right. He was impressed by a block filled with well-kept vintage homes. Tourists roamed the street, turning into establishments offering various types of merchandise.

  “Looks like every shop has a different definition of antique,” he said.

  “My aunt always says one man’s junk is another man’s treasure. Shoppers buy vintage glass, ceramics, quilts, fine art, restored furniture, and collectibles of every shape and size. Aunt Jessica specializes in miniatures, dollhouses, and shadowboxes. I’d better give her a call to open the front gate.” Tamara dialed a memorized number from Paxton’s cellphone. “We’re coming up the street right now. Can you open the gate? We’re driving a blue Chevy.”