Negative Exposure

by Lisa B. Thomas

When we got back into the car, Nancy grimaced. “There’s really only one place on the square that will meet your size requirement and is currently vacant. I’ve been hesitant to show it to you because it needs a lot of work.”

  “Show me. Maybe it’s the miracle you guaranteed.”

  “Okay. You asked for it.” She pulled up to the old roller rink.

  “I remember this place. I loved skating back in the day.”

  Nancy unlocked the front door. The enormous space with high ceilings and cool hardwood floors sent my imagination into high gear. I could picture backgrounds in various spots around the room. Who needed walls? There was an office, kitchen, and reception counter.

  “This is it! This place is perfect.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “But you don’t even know the price.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Okay,” she said, “you’re the boss. Let’s head to my office and write up an offer.”

  I snapped some pictures so I could start planning. I couldn’t wait to get started.

  AFTER WHAT SEEMED FOREVER, we finally worked our way through the details of the offer. Nancy printed everything out.

  “We’ll be just around the corner from each other,” I said. “Won’t that be fun?”

  “Sure. This could be the start of a beautiful friendship,” she said, handing me the pen to sign my life away.

  “Thanks, Bogey, but this isn’t exactly Casablanca.”

  “No, but they do show old films on the side of the library in the summer. We can request they show Casablanca.”

  I handed her the papers. “How long until we hear back from the owner? You don’t think he’ll be mad at my lowball offer, do you?”

  Nancy took the paperwork and stacked it into neat little piles. “Knowing Mr. Cranston, he’ll be mad no matter what. Remember how he used to yell at us girls if he caught us holding hands with a boy while we were skating? Anyway, he’s ready to sell and this is a good offer. I expect it to go through with no problems. As far as I know, you’re the first one to show interest in at least five years.”

  I clapped my hands together. “Yay! Now all I have to do is get the loan.”

  “Speaking of which, I need a check for the earnest money.”

  “A check? Who uses checks anymore?”

  “People who buy houses and offices. We can go by the bank and get a cashier’s check.”

  “Um, the bank?” I bit on the end of my fingernail.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t opened an account yet. What did you do, stuff a bunch of cash under your mattress?”

  “No, of course not. It’s hidden in the freezer.”

  “Drug dealer.”

  “Buzzkill,” I shot back. “I have a checkbook back at the house from my Maycroft bank. Want me to run home and get it?”

  Nancy picked up her purse and satchel. “Your car is still at the gym. I’ll drop you off and follow you home. Believe it or not, you’re not my only client. I have an appointment to show a condo at three o’clock.”

  “But I’m your favorite client, right?” I stood up and stuck out my bottom lip.

  “Of course,” she said. “And the prettiest.”

  “No, you’re prettier.”

  “No, you’re prettier.”

  We kept that up until we were back in the car. Nancy started to back out and glanced at me. “You know, if we’re going to be best friends, I need to know something.”

  “Ask away. Anything for the woman who demands a very large check from me.”

  “Why are you here? I mean, I’ve heard the rumors, but why did you move back to Cascada?”

  I let my gaze drift out the window. Was I ready to go there? Was I ready to reveal the skeletons in my closet? I liked Nancy. A lot. But some things were just too painful to discuss. I chose to give her the easy answer. “I was ready for a change. I had some trouble in Maycroft and my boyfriend decided I wasn’t good enough for his family. After everything got cleared up, he graciously decided to take me back. I told him to drop dead. By that time, I’d already sold my event planning business to my assistant and had given notice on my apartment. My so-called friends—our friends—went with team Rich Jerk.”

  “That must have hurt.” Her sad expression was just the kind I hated. I didn’t want anyone feeling sorry for me.

  “It was probably for the best. I think I was just looking for security in David.”

  “But you haven’t given up on love, have you? I mean, everyone knows how destroyed you were when your first fiancé was killed. But that was like ten years ago.”

  I fiddled with my ring and stared straight at her. “What do you mean everyone knows about it?”

  Nancy pulled up to the gym. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s not like people talked about it openly, but there were rumors. Your parents didn’t say much, but your brother ran his mouth some.”

  “My brother—”

  Nancy’s cell phone rang. Good thing, too. I may have said more than I should have about my brother. I sucked in a deep breath, letting it out slowly and counting to ten. I was on eight when she hung up.

  “That was Jake. I told him we would be heading to your house and he wants us to stop by.”

  “Did he say why?”

  “No, he just said there was something we’d be interested in hearing.”

  “Okay. I’ll get my check and then walk down to his house.” I reached for the door handle.

  Nancy caught my arm. “Are you okay? Are we okay? I promise I’ll never say a word about it again. Not to you or anyone.”

  “Not to Jake either? I don’t want it to become a thing, if you know what I mean.”

  “I promise,” she said and locked her lips with an invisible key.

  “I can’t believe you just did that,” I said and smiled. “I thought that went out of style in the nineties.”

  Chapter 19

  “Here you go,” I said, handing Nancy the check when she opened the door to Jake’s house. “If you cash that, you’ll be a thousand-aire. Don’t spend it all in one place.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll hold it until the sale goes through. Unless of course some handsome stranger rolls through town and we run off and buy a mobile home.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”

  Jake was sitting at his desk when we walked into the den. I wondered if he was planning to wear his old University of New Mexico sweatshirt to our dinner. If so, I would definitely have to rethink my outfit.

  “Hey,” he said and stood up. “Good news. Beverly is out on bond and she’s back home.”

  “That’s a relief, but Nancy made it sound like you had a big announcement. I thought maybe you’d invented the next Facebook app.”

  “I wish. No, but you’ll never guess who was just here.”

  “Who?” I took a seat on the sofa next to Nancy as Jake sat back down at his desk.

  “It’s not much fun if you don’t guess,” he said.

  “Okay...Sheriff Grady. He stopped by to award you a medal for Citizen of the Month.”

  He shook his head.

  “Ooh, I know,” Nancy said. “Oprah. She’s doing a documentary on small towns in the Southwest and she wants to see your collection of barbed wire.”

  I clasped my hands together and grinned. “You have a collection of barbed wire?”

  “Yes,” he said defensively. “It’s a thing. Forget about it. Anyway, you’re both wrong. It was Dale Pratt and he was pissed.”

  I leaned forward and furrowed my brow. “Why? Did you take down part of his fence?”

  “You’re as big a brat as this one,” he said, tossing his thumb in the direction of his sister. “First off, he said his mother was out on bond.”

  “That’s a relief,” I said.

  “Yeah, but she still has a murder charge pending,” Jake noted. “Anyway, Dale told me in no uncertain terms that I was to stay out of his mother’s business and to quit stirri
ng up trouble.”

  “Ah, I’ve heard that lecture, several times now,” I said. “Did his nostrils flare and his eyes get all squinty?”

  “Yep. I thought he was going to have an aneurism.”

  Nancy shook her head. “Well, he’s been nothing but nice to me. He called me again yesterday about listing the house.”

  That was curious. “Even after everything going on with the sheriff and Harold’s death? What did you tell him?”

  “I told him that Beverly would have to sign the papers or we couldn’t proceed any further. That’s when he asked me again about his being declared the executor of Harold’s will.”

  “Who’s the executor now?” Jake asked.

  “Beverly. I didn’t talk to him about probate or any of that. He seems to think he’s going to have her sign over power of attorney to him.”

  “I doubt that,” I said, “especially since she said she knows they are just after the money.”

  “Hmm,” Nancy said. “We’ll see, I guess.”

  I turned back to Jake. “Tell me everything Dale said. I want to hear all the juicy details.”

  Nancy stood up. “As much as I’d enjoy a blow-by-blow account of Dale versus Jake, I’ve got an appointment.” She winked at me conspicuously. “You two kids be good. I expect to hear all about your date tomorrow.”

  “Our date?” Jake and I said in unison.

  “It’s hardly a date,” I said.

  Jake nodded. “Exactly. It’s dinner. It’s just...”

  We looked back and Nancy was already gone. We sat in silence for a long moment.

  “So, Dale,” I said, breaking the tension.

  “Yes, Dale. He knew all about the golf club and Curtis.”

  “Do you think Beverly knows?”

  “Probably. I’m sure Grady called her and then she told Penelope—”

  “And she called her husband.”

  “Right. I asked Dale if he thought that maybe Curtis had something to do with Harold’s death. He waved it off like it wasn’t even a possibility. All he cared about was the resale value of the house.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “According to Nancy, a seller has to disclose to potential buyers if someone has ever died in the house.”

  “So? This is Cascada. Everybody here already knows everything.”

  “True, but outsiders wouldn’t. So someone moving in would have to be told. Curtis said it would be hard enough to sell the house if buyers found out someone had died there, but nearly impossible if they got wind it was the site of a murder.”

  “I hadn’t thought of that. Do you think it will affect our property value? Oh no!”

  “Are you serious?” he asked.

  “Of course not,” I laughed. “But do you really think someone murdered Harold because of golf? I mean, really? I know golfers are serious about the game, but come on!”

  The sound of nails on chalkboard drew our attention to the sliding glass door. Cricket pawed at the glass.

  “Cricket, stop that,” I yelled, covering my ears.

  Jake walked over and slid open the door. “I’ve never seen her do that before. She usually just meows if she’s hungry.”

  She raced in and jumped in my lap. “Hungry? She’s eating me out of house and home. Bad cat. Don’t do that again. I hated that sound in school and I hate it now. She must have really wanted our attention.” I rubbed her neck and she stared back at me. “I guess I should be going.”

  “Ah, another mysterious dash from my house.”

  I laughed. “No, I just have some things to take care of before our...”

  “Dinner,” he said.

  “Right. Dinner. By the way, is that what you’re wearing?”

  “I’m not a hick,” he said. “I know how to dress for a...”

  “Dinner. Good, because I wanted to wear a cute cashmere sweater I bought last year that was way too warm for Texas.”

  “I’m sure you’d look cute in anything.” He blushed and looked down at his feet.

  He was even cuter when he was embarrassed. I thought about the teenage Jake and the crush he had on me, not sure yet how I felt about it. “See you at seven,” I said. “Come on, Cricket. Let’s leave the man to his super-secret spy work.”

  “It’s not that exciting, believe me.” As he closed the door behind us, Cricket ran ahead as usual.

  I added a little extra wiggle to my walk, just in case he was watching. Might as well give him something to look forward to. Tonight might just be “a dinner,” but who said it wouldn’t eventually lead to a date.

  Chapter 20

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked as Jake pulled onto the highway. We had made a pact not to talk about Beverly or golf clubs or murder. “I assumed we’d end up at Karol’s Kafé on the square. By the way, doesn’t she know those words should be spelled with a C?”

  “It’s a pun. A play on words. It’s what makes a small town charming.”

  “And why do all the business names around here rhyme, like Benny’s Barbecue and Henry’s Hardware?”

  “It’s not rhyme, it’s alliteration. Otherwise it would be Claire’s Hair or Randall’s Candles. Oh wait, there is a Randall’s Candles.”

  “Thanks for clearing that up, Mr. English Major.”

  “Psychology.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “My undergrad major was psychology.”

  “Huh. So how did you learn so much about computers?”

  “That came later. Anyway, back to names. Have you decided on a name for your photography business?”

  “I decided to go with something elegant and classy like ‘Portraits by Wendy.’ What do you think?”

  “Catchy.” I caught a sly grin on his face.

  “What? You don’t like it?”

  “It’s fine. Boring, but fine.”

  “Oh, I guess you’d have me name it something cutesy like ‘The Camera Castle’ or ‘Hot Shots.’”

  “I like Hot Shots, but there’s an adult video store over by Henry’s Hardware with that name.”

  “Ugh,” I moaned and backhanded him in the arm. There were those muscles again. Firm and strong.

  “I’m just saying that you might want to fit in.”

  “Or stand out.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “It didn’t work that well for the Southwest Furniture Showroom.”

  “Really? I don’t remember seeing that place.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jake was right. I came here to find a place where I could fit in and find acceptance. Well, not the whole purpose, but that was a major part of it. So far I hadn’t exactly weaved myself into the fabric of the community. Speaking of fabric, I was feeling chic in my cashmere sweater and turquoise squash blossom necklace. The softness of cashmere against my skin made me feel feminine. “So where are we going?”

  “I told you we were going for Mexican food, remember?”

  “Of course I remember, but that was like five days ago. I guess I forgot.”

  Off to the west, the red-orange sun kissed the Sierra Blanca Mountains, reminding me of the paintings in the art gallery window in town square. Except this work of art was real. I reached for the camera in my purse. “Pull over. I want to get a shot of the sunset.”

  He pulled off onto the shoulder and came around the car to stand next to me as I snapped off a series of shots. I was entranced by the majesty of it all. Had the sunsets been this splendid when I was younger, or had I just not pulled my head out of my own drama enough to notice? The cold wind slapped me back into reality, and we got back in the car.

  Jake flung his arm over the back of my seat. I caught a whiff of cologne. Not too strong, just a hint of sandalwood. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “Gorgeous.” I leaned back in the seat.

  Something broke the spell. The high-pitched whine of a siren and flashing of lights swept up behind us.

  I turned around to see none other than Sheriff Grady strolling up to the car.

  “Wh
at’s he doing here?” Jake wondered aloud. “This stretch of highway is out of his jurisdiction.” He rolled down his window.

  Grady leaned an arm above the car window so he could get a good look inside. His stern face gave no clue of his purpose for stopping us. “I figured you two would be together now that I know you’re in cahoots.”

  “In cahoots?” Jake asked. “I’ve never been in cahoots in my life. I was in Calvary one time back in college, but that’s a whole ’nother story.”

  Grady scowled. “Whatever. Listen up, and listen good. You two need to back off this Attwood thing.” He pointed a stubby finger at me. “Ever since you came to town, you’ve been nothin’ but trouble. Sherry warned me you’d be a problem, but now I’ve seen it for my own self. And you, Jake, you should know better than to get mixed up with the likes of her.”

  “Why do you think I’m driving her out of town? I plan to shank her and leave her up by Porter’s Hollow.”

  “This isn’t funny, Jake,” Grady said. “I talked to Curtis Meeks. He said Beverly gave him that golf club. The boys in the lab checked it. It’s clean as a whistle.”

  Jake tilted his head. “Exactly how clean is a whistle? Is that before or after people put it in their mouths and spit saliva in it?”

  “Listen, Mr. Funny Boy Secret Agent, one phone call from me and you’re finished.”

  Jake held up his hands as though surrendering. “Hey, I don’t want any trouble, you know that. But do you really think Beverly Attwood whacked her husband then drug him over to the fireplace to make it look like an accident?”

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you. I work for the citizens of Cascada.”

  I leaned over. “Not to belabor the obvious, but we are citizens of Cascada. Technically, you work for us.”

  “Not for long,” Grady growled.

  “Why?” I asked. “Do you plan to resign?” He really did walk into that one.

  “Heck no. I plan to run you and your sorry brother out of this town.”

  “What does my brother have to do with anything?” I asked.

  Jake gave the sheriff a thumbs up sign. “We got the message, sheriff. You won’t have any more trouble from us.”