Solomon's Compass

by Carol Kilgore

  Yesterday’s progress amazed her. She and Dan had settled into a routine. While she sorted through the mess, pulling out broken items and trash, he went behind her and pulled out more scrap for the trash bin. He moved what remained to the salvage shop. Dan knew what would sell and what would be worthless clutter that would drive the lot price downward. And he was fast. Taylor hustled to stay ahead, even though he performed the heavy lifting.

  The best part of cleaning out this way was she got to search through the whole lot. If Randy’s belt or the Compass Point photos were in the house, she would find them.

  Taylor met Dan on the porch. “Coffee! You’re a lifesaver. I had one small cup at the hotel. And yogurt. If I eat another breakfast taco, I’ll have to get my uniform altered.” She took the tall cup from him.

  “It’s my own cruel curse. Without my coffee, I simply can’t function.”

  “Sorry I can’t offer any breakfast. I should have grabbed a taco for you.”

  “I had oatmeal.” He grimaced. “Cholesterol.”

  She nodded. So far she’d been fortunate, but her XO already took meds to lower his.

  She unlocked the door and they went inside. Randy’s kitchen table and chairs occupied their space in the kitchen. His headboard, bed frame, and chest remained in his bedroom. And the three boxes of family belongings were in his closet. Her uncle’s home was starting to look the way she remembered. As long as she didn’t look in the living room.

  “The tight line down the center of your forehead is missing this morning.” Dan followed her inside.

  “Sleep works wonders.”

  They chatted over their coffees and got to work in the living room. She used extra padding to wrap her hands and lifted a box or two with no problem. Yay, glue. She’d be able to dig for Randy’s treasure before she had to return to Charleston, and she was now convinced he really had buried something. Most likely the belt and photos.

  Dan kept the mood light, filling her in on the happenings in Rock Harbor. She had mental images of a lot of people she’d never meet. And knew who was sleeping with whom.

  “Will and Zia? You’re sure?”

  “They don’t try to keep it secret. Everyone knows. They’ve been friends for years, but only lovers if neither one is involved with someone else. An open friendship.”

  Taylor suddenly felt very old. Or maybe it was old-fashioned. “I guess if that’s what they want.” She was a one-man woman. And there hadn’t been that many men. The past few years, especially, she’d been almost exclusively career focused. But she couldn’t imagine such an arrangement with Mark or Mr. Brooklyn. Stop it, Taylor. Remember . . . wife, kids, dog.

  “Will has his pick of women. And no strings is exactly what Zia wants. I guess she never got over it when Ross died. She’s been different since then.”

  “Was Ross her husband?”

  “Yes. And then there was Nate Brady.”

  “Nate Brady! You know him?”

  Dan stopped moving. “Do you?”

  She shook her head. “I overheard him talking to Will about his catamaran. Do they know about each other?”

  “Will knows about Nate. From all I know about Mr. Brady, Will would no longer be among the living if Nate knew about him.”

  Dan’s opinion of Nate Brady matched hers. “How well do you know him? Brady, I mean.”

  “I’ve met him briefly a time or two. If he’s been out here, you need to armor up. I gather he’s a real slick bastard. Some people think he runs drugs.” Dan sucked on his bottom lip. “I’m not willing to put that label on anyone I haven’t met.”

  Taylor hadn’t quite expected his answer. Dan was the first one to tease and share gossip, but as she thought back, his stories were about people he knew. And they were funny, not harmful. He cared about people. She liked that.

  They went back to work, and by noon they’d cleared the back row of tables in the salvage shop and made room for the rest of the items from the house.

  Dan flopped onto a kitchen chair. “Lady, you’re a real worker. I haven’t moved this fast in years.”

  “Cholesterol. Exercise is good for you.”

  He roared. “You’re too much. If I wasn’t gay, I’d so make a play for you.”

  “If you weren’t gay, you wouldn’t even notice me.”

  “I beg to differ. I like frou-frou on things in my antique shop, not on people. You’re cute, smart, and down to earth. If you come to the opening tomorrow, you’ll see for yourself. You are coming, aren’t you?”

  “If I can find a dress. I brought jeans, shorts, and shirts. Mostly these.”

  “It’s dressy casual, but a teensy bit dressier than Bashful there. I’d offer to go shopping with you, but my schedule is full all day.” He wagged a finger. “No frou-frou.”

  She grinned. Dan was the sister she never had. “Not a problem.”

  “Are you up for tackling the shop on Monday?”

  “I’m going to enjoy the whole weekend. My hand and fingers should be good to go by Monday. Every bit we finish means less I’ll have to do when I come back again. What are you doing for lunch?”

  “Meeting the electrician. The fixtures I ordered came in, and I want to make sure they go in the right places.”

  “I passed this place over on the old highway called Lulu’s. Supposed to have burgers.”

  “The best in town. You’ll love Lulu, too. Go eat a burger and drink a beer.”

  “Want me to bring you one?”

  “I’m having a salad. With grilled chicken. It’s in the fridge at the gallery.”

  “Cholesterol.” They said the word in unison.

  “The doctor said if I can lower it with diet and exercise he won’t put me on meds. After lunch, you and I will reorganize and tackle the living room.”

  He hugged her and kissed the air somewhere near her right ear before he let himself out.

  Taylor’s phone jingled with a Private call. Probably someone on the Susquehanna.

  “Commander Campbell.”

  “What did you think of my warning?”

  Warning? Taylor’s stomach dropped—the razor blades. “Listen, you sick sonofa—”

  Eerie whispered laughter cut off her rant. Then a click.

  “Go to hell!”

  Someone knocked on her door.

  “Come in.”

  Will opened the door. “I hope you weren’t talking to me.”

  Taylor ordered herself to relax. “I just had a call.”

  Will frowned. “A call? You mean a call like Trinh had? What did they say?”

  “‘What do you think of my warning?’”

  Will sunk into a chair. “Bastard. Call Glen.”

  “I will.”

  “Now.”

  “You don’t give me orders. I said I’ll call him, and I will. I need to think about the voice first.”

  “Sorry.” He looked around the room and down the empty hall. “I’m impressed. Rankin would be proud.”

  “You think?”

  “I think.” He set a paper bag on the table. “Almost forgot. I brought you some homemade tamales for lunch.”

  She gawked at him. “You made tamales?”

  “No, no. Not me. My neighbor. She usually makes them only at the holidays, but her daughter works in London and is coming home for a visit. They’re what she wanted, so Mama and her sisters made them and shared.”

  “I don’t want to take your lunch.”

  “I have several dozen. I brought you six. Plus some fresh salsa I did make.”

  “Well, thank you. My mouth’s watering.”

  “Enjoy. I have to get back to work.” He stood and walked to the door. “Call Glen.”

  “After lunch.”

  The tamales tasted like her childhood. She ate four before sitting back and putting her feet on the seat of another chair. She found her phone and Glen’s card, and entered his number.

  “How can I help you?”

  She told him about the call. “Will knows. And probably Tr
inh by now.”

  “I suggest you pay close attention to your surroundings from here on out. And try not to be alone.”

  She eyed the room. Fat chance of that.

  “I’m going to put more pressure on County to see if they can find any prints on the tape and blades. Stay in touch with me, and I’ll keep you informed.”

  Right before she hung up, a car door slammed and the chirp of Dan’s lock sounded. She swung her feet to the floor just as the back door opened.

  He assumed his regular seat at Lulu’s bar.

  “Whatcha having today, Jake?”

  “A beer. I’ll order food later. Someone’s meeting me.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Before his dad got sick, he and Jake had talked about the need for another remote Compass Points location. Having the capability to meet certain clients or hide them away was imperative. CPI had the safe room in the Jersey offices, and a cabin in upper Michigan. Even so, they continued to keep an eye for other locations. Rock Harbor would be perfect.

  Lulu set his unopened beer in front of him, and he moved to a nearby table so he could watch the door. He toyed with the bottle until Zia Markham arrived, her presence changing the atmosphere of the room as much as a ballerina’s would in the center of a football huddle.

  She walked toward him, and he stood. “Thanks for meeting me.”

  She gave him a big smile. “I love having lunch with a handsome man, Mr. Solomon. And I’m glad to finally learn your name.”

  With her flirty reply, he half ducked his head, keeping his attention all on her. “Call me Jake. In my younger days, I wouldn’t have realized you were hitting on me. By the time I figured out how women operate, I was too old for the knowledge to do me any good. But I enjoy being able to play along.” He pulled out a chair for her.

  After he sat, she reached across the table and placed her hand on top of his. The scent of jasmine overcame the seared beef and onions aroma of the bar. He leaned back in his chair to keep away from the sweetness of Zia’s perfume. Beer and burgers were the best part of being his dad. He would go back to his regular diet and exercise routine when he returned to New York, or he’d be too out of shape to work.

  Zia’s French-manicured nails kneaded his skin. “I’ll see what I can do about your playing along after lunch.”

  “Maybe you should wait until you hear me out before you decide.”

  She pulled her hand away and clasped it with the other. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  He winked. “It means I’m flattered. What man wouldn’t be? But I’m also interested in purchasing a small piece of Rock Harbor. I like this area.”

  She licked her lips. “Real estate?”

  “Right. I don’t want a place with major upkeep. Probably a condo, but I don’t want a hundred neighbors. I could stay on the Jersey shore and have that. Got anything for me?”

  Lulu shuffled over. Zia huffed. He wasn’t sure what that was about. But if he had to guess, he’d say Zia was snorting her superiority.

  “What can I get you two?” Lulu flashed her pearly whites at Zia and waited. Score one for Lulu.

  “A small salad. Oil and vinegar. Water with lemon.”

  Lulu turned back to Jake, and it was all he could do not to laugh out loud, much less smile. Her expression left no doubt she thought Zia made a wrong turn someplace.

  “Burger and another beer for me.” He tilted his bottle toward her.

  “Coming up.” She walked away.

  Jake sipped his beer. Zia took a small bottle of hand sanitizer from her bag, rubbed some on her hands, and put the bottle back. She finally glanced at him and pulled a smile into place.

  He set his beer back on the table. “So . . . got what I’m looking for?”

  She cleared her throat. “What’s your price range?”

  “As close to five as possible. That seems fair for what I’m looking for based on prices I’ve seen in the paper and in your window. I’m willing to pay more if I find exactly what I envision. Unblocked water view.”

  “What else?”

  “Needs to be spacious but not obviously so. I don’t want the house that stands out on the block. So large rooms more than large house. Couple bedrooms. Up to date, either new or renovated. Unfurnished. Ample balcony or patio. High-quality amenities.”

  “What about a house with a maintenance agreement?”

  “Sure, as long as it doesn’t go into the rental pool and is taken care of when I’m not here.”

  “A few locations come to mind. Let me call my service and have them set up appointments for after lunch. Soon enough?”

  He raised his beer in a toast. “Perfect.”

  Zia had wanted him to ride with her, but that would’ve been foolish on every level—riding with a stranger to an unknown destination, for starters. At his refusal the smile vanished from her face. The first property was a definite no—he didn’t step foot out of his car. The location presented a security nightmare with an exposed electricity connection and a stucco wall that could conceal one intruder or an entire army.

  Zia’s expression indicated she thought of him less as a potential wonder boy and more as an irritating gnat. The next two houses had kick-ass views, but one needed major renovation and the other had a bad layout. He hadn’t seen any he would drop half a million on.

  He followed her back to town and into the ZGM lot.

  She bounced out of her car with a huge smile on her face. “I know the perfect property for you.”

  “Why didn’t you show it to me?” He put a little extra New York attitude in his voice.

  She waved her hand back and forth. “The property isn’t built out yet, but I can show you what it could look like.”

  “Interesting. Tell me more.” This must be the empty condo space next to hers—the one he’d hoped to see. The one he couldn’t let her think he knew about. Then again, maybe she was cunning enough to have scripted this out.

  “It’s in town. Convenient.”

  Yes. Finally. He locked his car.

  “Not on the water, but with a solid water view. Brand new. Interior build-out to your specs. The complex is small, so cash or private financing only. Can’t get around the mortgage laws.”

  “How small?”

  “Four units total. Two are built. The other two will be within five years. Assessed taxable value last year on the occupied unit was high six figures, and the base price for this one before build-out is in your range.”

  “I think I’m interested.” So far Zia’s description fell in line with what Kelly told him last night.

  “With what you save on waterfront maintenance, you can cover the cost of the build-out in no time.”

  “Good sales pitch. What about condo fees?”

  The amount was reasonable. “Covers property and liability insurance—wind and flood included—plus a healthy reserve for maintenance, adjusted annually. You’d be responsible for your utilities and insurance on personal property. The only drawback is there isn’t a pool or any type of recreation or fitness facility. There is, however, a wonderful gym two blocks away.”

  “Let’s go look.” He unlocked his car.

  “That’s what I like.” She favored him with a huge smile. “We’re here.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I own this block of buildings. The second floor is divided into two living spaces with a solid firewall between.”

  “What about the other two condos? Where will they be built?”

  “I own the other side of the street, too—the downturn in the economy set everyone back. I have the plans, but I held off on construction.”

  “Can you get me current demographics on Rock Harbor?” Kelly was checking classified databases for more specific, sensitive information. If the numbers didn’t work, the deal was dead. He beeped the lock again.

  She nodded. “Absolutely. Come up and look at mine so you can envision the possibilities and the views. Then I’ll show you the before version. The tax records are
in my office. If you’re interested after looking at the space, we’ll discuss details.”

  As Zia talked, he could tell she’d forgotten about him as a man. He became a mark, a potential buyer. Her skills focused solely on his needs, and on how to pitch the properties she had available to those needs. Her language could have come straight from a marketing brochure.

  They entered her space through a canopied area that resembled a sidewalk café. “Do you ever sit here?”

  She gave him a puzzled look. “On the street? No. A small balcony up faces the street as well. In the back, a covered terrace runs the length of the building and overlooks the bay.”

  He wasn’t surprised she didn’t sit at street level, but he was surprised she hadn’t erected a living wall—a row of large potted plants or vine-covered lattice. A security camera was attached above her door so she could view anyone who rang the bell. It should be adjustable to pan the entire area. Whether it was, he couldn’t tell. It could just as easily be a fake. Without a closer inspection, they all looked alike.

  “Are both units connected through the terrace?” That would be a deal killer, too.

  “No. The brick firewall extends through the roof and through the terraces, making each unit totally private. A fire barrier also separates each floor. You can go to the city offices and read the inspection reports. It’s not shoddy construction.”

  He’d stirred her pot. She knew her stuff and strutted it with confidence. All the same, he’d ask Kelly to send him copies of what she found on file. A few minutes’ work from her would save him a day-long trip to city hall.

  They walked into an amazing entry no larger than ten by twelve. Zia closed the door, and the street sounds vanished. No windows. Recessed can lights in the tall ceiling. Bold greens and blues on the walls. Two wooden benches painted bright coral. Large canvases filled with color hung above the benches. On the third wall, a wide stairway curved upward. On the fourth, three doors. He inclined his head in that direction. “Closets?”