No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7

by Barton, Sara M.

  It was ironic that Jasper was so interested in the property for his mother, because from what I remembered of her from my high school days, she wouldn’t like the Glengarry Court bungalow and, frankly, the thought of me working on a decorating project with Jasper’s mother scared the holy guacamole out of me.

  “So, I’ll hear back from you?” Jasper’s words cut into my mental musings and I returned my focus to the conversation at hand.

  “Absolutely,” I promised. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Great. By the way, how are you feeling?”

  “Banged up and bruised,” I admitted, “soaking in the tub with a glass of chardonnay, watching the sunset.”

  “Sounds good. Wish I could join you. Maybe another time,” he laughed. “Call me.”

  “Will do,” I replied, suddenly thinking that Jasper really was like all the other rats in the world, flirting while the wife was unaware. This was going to make him a whole lot easier to resist. All I had to do was remember what it felt like to have my heart excoriated by Jay without anesthesia.

  A short time later, I was out of the tub and hungry. I called Shanghai Palace and placed my order. Ned called to tell me we were still waiting to hear back from the sellers’ agent. I didn’t bother to share the news about Jasper, figuring it could turn out to be a moot point. When my white cardboard cartons of Chinese food arrived ten minutes later, I hunkered down on the sofa and turned on the TV. All I wanted to do was forget I ever had a crush on Jasper Wintonberry.

  That was also the thought I had as I lay down on my queen-sized bed to go to sleep, and it was still with me when I woke up. I made a resolution that I was not going to let myself be conned, sweet-talked, or manipulated into a romance with a guy who was unworthy, no matter how much he tempted me. From now on, my life was going to be hunky-dory. I was going to pursue my dreams, goals, and interests. No distractions along the way, no matter how interesting or enticing.

  I filled my travel mug with some steaming hot hazelnut coffee, half and half, and sweetener before I screwed on the lid. I also grabbed a plastic container that I filled with plain Greek yogurt, sliced bananas, some low-fat granola, a splash of vanilla extract, and some honey. I wanted to get to the office before Ned. I was hoping to start pricing out some of the materials I wanted to use for the new flip.

  There was little traffic on the way to the office. I made it to my desk by ten of eight, spread out my breakfast, and started searching for online bargains while I ate. After about twenty minutes of taking notes and comparison shopping, I had what I needed at the moment, so I took out the card Jasper had given me. I set it down, intending to share it with Ned when he arrived. Just out of curiosity, I did a search on Jasper Wintonberry, wondering who he married, how many kids he had, and where he was living. I never heard Ned come in.

  “Please tell me you’re not stalking the guy,” he said, coming up behind me, reading my computer screen.

  “Actually, smart ass, I ran into him last night. He gave me a ride home. And he’s interested in buying the Glengarry Court house. As soon as we buy it, he wants a tour. It’s for his mother.”

  “You didn’t give him a purchase price, did you?”

  “Of course not. We have no idea what the flip with cost us.”

  “How serious do you think he is?” Ned was definitely interested.

  “He says his mother is moving back. She’ll be here in a couple of days. He wants us to let her pick her fixtures, have some input on the redo.”

  “Nice, Suze. That could be a good thing. More profit than just a normal fix, because we’re customizing it.”

  “You think we should pursue it?” I wondered.

  “Of course, provided he’s got the money. What did you find out?”

  “Fortescue Investments. Certified financial planner. His mother lives in Carmel. I can’t find the information on his wife or kid.”

  “Kid?”

  “He had a car seat in the back, Ned. There has to be a kid.”

  “Right. Well, why don’t you let me have his card and I’ll call him. By the way, they took our offer. The closing on the bungalow is on Friday, provided the inspection goes well.”

  “Wow,” I replied, surprised by the time line, “how did you get them to agree to such a quick closing?”

  “Actually, it was their idea. I was willing to wait until next week, but they told me that if I wanted it at $375,000, we had to get it inked by Friday.”

  “Weird,” I decided. Most folks don’t rush into a legal deal. This was an unusual sale. But then again, this was an unusual situation. The owner was missing and her relatives probably wanted to dump the property before the next mortgage payment was due. That’s the thing about dead bodies. Some killers like to be far, far away before the skeletons pop up out of the ground. Others like to watch from the shadows.

  Chapter Four —

  “What’s the word, Sid?” The following day, Ned leaned over his desk, punched a button on his phone, and turned on his speaker function, so I could listen to the inspection report. “Good news or bad?”

  “Mostly good. Some bad. You definitely need to replace the pipes. I reviewed the water bills for the last six months. There’s been an increase in water use, even though the house has been empty. Something has caused a leak into the water line to the street. It’s actually hooked up through the side yard into the basement. Could be a tree root. Could be the water main just deteriorated so much, the tiny hole just kept getting bigger and now it’s a constant flow.”

  “Automatic sprinklers?” I suggested, wondering if the water was going into the nearly foot-high lawn.

  “I checked. I couldn’t find any,” Sid told us. “You definitely need to get the asbestos removed professionally. The gas heater has several more years of use. The electrical rewiring done about a decade ago was a professional job, so it should be adequate. The new storm windows should help with the heating and cooling costs. You have to remember this was originally a seasonal cottage. When they updated the house, they blew in dry cellulose, so the wall cavities are filled and it looks like a decent effort with the exception of that sun porch. Overall, you get that water leak fixed, add some insulation or close off the porch, replace the pipes in the house, and this is a good deal.”

  “Thanks, Sid,” Ned said, signing off. He turned to me. “Well, then. I guess I’ll go call your boyfriend and give him the good news. I’ll see if he’s interested in going through the house on Monday.”

  “Good.” There was a big part of me that was relieved Ned would do the negotiating. The more I could limit my contact with Jasper, the happier I’d be.

  Since we knew that Ned would close on the house two days later, I headed out to pick up samples for the renovation. If I did my job well enough, Jasper’s mother might be happy to just let us put it all together for her. Then again, we were talking about June Wintonberry.

  I remembered her from my high school days. Chic, athletic, very social, June was the kind of woman admired and envied by the housewives and working women of Glendale. At her best, she was a strong, some would say strong-willed, woman. She was on the board of several non-profits before it was considered cool. She was a well-ranked amateur golfer who competed against men and women. Impeccably dressed, sporting enough gold jewelry to light up any room, June was no pushover. But at her worst, she was a royal pain in the ass. To a high school girl like me, who worked at the Peach Blossom Dress Shop as a clerk and had to schlep her armloads of rejects back to the racks, under the verbal barrage of not offering the queen what she needed, I suffered many an afternoon as I failed to find just the right outfit for her royal highness. I could only imagine what a nightmare it would be to work with her on the bungalow.

  On my way home, I decided to stop by the property and take measurements of the Glengarry Court yard, front and back. I spent about an hour there, going over every inch of land, trying to figure out what I absolutely had to do right away and what could be put at the end of the priority list. I
took lots of photos and I did some sketches of the possible planting bed configurations, the potential patio area in the back yard, and the double-car parking area out front. Once I was done, I headed back to the office to price out fence options and paver choices.

  Ned was in his office with his door closed, a sure sign he was in negotiations. I grabbed myself a can of diet Sprite from the office fridge and got back to my design plan. I could feel my heartbeat quicken at the thought of Jasper sitting in the chair opposite my brother, hashing out the details of the purchase for that sweet little property. Maybe Jasper would decide that he wasn’t interested after all. He’d go on his way and I could stop thinking about him, instead of longing to know what it would be like to have his hands on my skin, his demanding lips pressing mine.

  The buzzer rang on my desk phone. Ned was summoning me to his office. Suddenly, I felt my hand go cold and clammy as I reached for it, trembling. Get a grip on yourself, I reminded myself. You’re a grown woman, long out of high school. Act like you’re competent. At least today I was dressed decently, in a pencil skirt, a colorful print top, and a pair of sandals that offered a good peek at my impeccably manicured toenails painted in Lustrous Pearl Pink. My fingernails had none of the usual paint splatters to mar the matching nail polish they sported. My brown hair was free from its usual elastic band, hanging loosely on my shoulders. I was wearing sapphire studs and a gold neck chain, and I had actually applied makeup before I left for work. Very different from my usual renovation attire of painted-covered jeans and tee shirts. I clean up nicely a couple of times a month when I’m in between projects.

  “Yes?”

  “Suzanne, can you please step into my office?” I noted that Ned was being very formal. That meant this was all about business. Standing up, I smoothed out my skirt and crossed the room as steadily as I could. I steeled myself as I turned the knob, plastered a bright smile across my face, and stepped forward.

  “What can I do for you, Ned?” I said in an overly-cheerful voice. I could see the back of an unfamiliar head belonging to a man now sitting in the chair opposite my big brother. Male. Brown hair. Dark suit. Not Jasper.

  “Kyle, you remember my sister, Suzanne,” I heard my brother say. The figure rose from the chair and whirled around. Before I could say a word, I felt myself enveloped by the arms of the human octopus, Kyle Hargrove, voted most likely to cop a feel in high school. I could tell from the hands that brushed my buttocks that old Kyle hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Suzy Q, still hot,” he laughed, covering my mouth with his lips. His tongue tried to poke through my clenched teeth. I pushed the bastard away and stepped back.

  “Kyle, do that again and you’ll be singing soprano!”

  “Still feisty!” he chuckled.

  “Seriously, put your hands on me again and it’ll be the last thing you do before you hit the floor!” I glared at the conniving bastard who had made my high school years miserable.

  “God, you’re still gorgeous!”

  “And you’re still an….”

  “Kyle is interested in the Glengarry Court property,” Ned said quickly, trying to interrupt the hostilities.

  “Why?” I snapped. “How did he even know we had it?”

  “Still sharp as a tack,” the creep decided as he sat down again. He waved me into the chair beside his, and I only sat down when I was sure I was out of reach. “I was telling your brother I ran into Jasper last night and he told me about the place.”

  I looked at the weasel-like eyes gleaming at me from the puffy face, sporting an extra ten pounds on his 5’8” frame. Kyle hadn’t aged well, with his hair evaporating rapidly as we spoke and skin that looked like he’d spent a few years under a rock. He was dressed in a well-cut, expensive-looking suit and he wore what appeared to be handmade Italian loafers on his feet, but he couldn’t hide his inner vermin self. He was on the hunt and I felt like his prey.

  “So you’re trying to chump Jasper?” I demanded. “Same old Kyle. Still a jerk.”

  “Suzanne!” Ned was appalled. I didn’t really care.

  “Why don’t you go slither back down your rat hole, Kyle. We’re not interested in doing business with a creep like you.”

  “Careful what you say to me, Suze,” he hissed back at me. “I am a very important business man and I have a lot of clout.”

  “That may be so,” I shot back, “but you just assaulted me and I have no problem making the public aware of the fact that you think you’re entitled to grope respectable women. Does your wife approve? Or is she too dumb to know you’re chasing skirts?”

  “I think we’ve gotten off to a bad start here,” Ned decided. “Let’s just rewind a little bit.”

  “There’s no such thing as a good start with Kyle,” I warned my brother. “He has no ethics, he has no class, and he can’t be trusted!”

  “You’re just pissed because I didn’t marry Jane!” Jane Keffler was my best friend. She dated Kyle three times before he slipped a little date rape drug into her strawberry daiquiri at the Low Down and had his way with her. When she came to the next morning, she was naked and abandoned on Pleasure Beach. Outraged, tearful, she wanted to have him prosecuted. I took her to the police station. A female police officer took her statement before driving her to the emergency room. The next day, a package arrived on Jane’s front door step. Her father opened it. There were twenty photos of his naked daughter in various poses beside a variety of naked male genetalia in all shapes, colors, and sizes. The photos were accompanied by a note stating that if she didn’t drop the assault charge, the naughty pictures would go public. Jane took the next flight to Dallas, for an extended visit to her Great-Aunt Linda’s. She never returned to her old self or her hometown. I lost my best friend to this walking piece of filth.

  “Marry Jane?” I looked at this three-headed monster and wanted to smack each cheek. “You raped her because you wanted to marry her?”

  “Rape? That was consensual sex!” Kyle got right up to my face, so close I could smell coffee on his breath.

  “If you want to be more convincing, don’t try to tongue me next time. I didn’t welcome your embrace this morning, any more than Jane welcomed it ten years ago! You don’t like to take no for an answer, Kyle, but you’d better learn to take it. And if you ever touch me again, I’ll file assault charges on you, and you won’t have any naked photos of me to circulate!”

  “Suzanne, why don’t you and I just step out a moment?” Ned’s fingers gripped my elbow tightly as he tried to steer me out of the office. I was still smoking when he closed the door on the smirking Kyle. “What in God’s name got into you? Even if you don’t like the guy, have a little class!”

  “You make a deal with that bastard and I’ll quit this company. I will leave this town and I will never come back!” I spat those fighting words out at my brother as he recoiled. The look of alarm on his face was evident, but I didn’t care. I meant every word I said.

  “Look, why don’t you go cool off somewhere. I’ll get rid of the guy, but I’ll do it without alienating him. If he’s as big a creep as you say, we don’t want him causing trouble for Dawkins Builders, Suze.”

  “Fine, but he had better not ever come near me again!”

  “Did he really try to tongue you just now?”

  “And he put his hands on my ass!” I snarled.

  “Okay,” said my big brother. “I’ll handle it. You take off. Go down to Pulkowski Plumbing and check out their tubs, see if they’ll give us a good deal on a soaker.”

  I stomped back to my desk, grabbed my purse, and headed out to the street to retrieve my car. I couldn’t wait to get away from the lingering stench of Kyle Hargrove. It seemed to follow me as I maneuvered through traffic down the main drag. It only seemed to lift as I roared down Route 101, doing sixty in a fifty zone.

  I parked my car in front of Pulkowski’s showroom door and grabbed my brush to tame the wild mat of “convertible hair”. As my smartphone buzzed, I threw the brush back into my pur
se and answered it.

  “Suze, it’s Jasper. I was wondering if you were free for lunch.”

  “What in God’s name did you tell that creep last night?”

  “Excuse me?” said the baffled male voice at the other end of the line.

  “Kyle Hargrove! He wants to buy the bungalow!”

  “I don’t understand. What are you talking about?” Jasper seemed sincere, so I filled in the details, right down to the groping hands and the pesky tongue.

  “And the next time he does that, I’m going to have his sorry ass thrown in jail!”

  “Which is where it belongs if he touches you again,” he reassured me. “But I didn’t tell him about the property, Suzanne. I ran into him at the bar last night. That’s true. But I was meeting Bob Perkins and Tom Dydek. I told them about the property. Maybe he was listening to our conversation from the next table.”

  “Well, that sounds like the stinker!” I decided. “He’s trying to make a deal with my brother.”

  “But I want to look at the property.” Jasper sounded disappointed. “For my mother.”

  “I told Ned that I would quit if he even considered selling to that creep!” I was still fired up. The more I thought about it, the madder I got.

  “Where are you right now? I know it’s only ten, but maybe we could peek in the windows.”

  “Actually, I’m supposed to be looking at tubs. Want to join me?”

  At that moment in time, I didn’t really care that Jasper had a wife and kid. I just wanted someone decent to know what a consummate con artist Kyle Hargrove was and what he did to my best friend. I waited for him in the parking lot. Jasper arrived less than ten minutes later. As I leaned up against my Miata, I gave him an earful on that skunk. I got it all out of my system. He waited until I was done ranting, suggested I take a deep breath, and asked me if we could go look at the tubs. One look at those green eyes reminded me that I was there for a reason. I pulled myself together and I gave Jasper a bright little smile, and then I invited him to join me in the plumbing showroom. Fifteen minutes later, I was explaining the differences between fiberglass and cast iron tubs as we wandered through the displays. I showed him a concealed hand rail that would be a good safety feature for his mother and we talked about whether a shower stall with a bench would be better than a tub.