"When?" she asked, frowning with doubt.
"When I get it. Bye, Nora."
"Yeah, goodbye."
He stopped and turned. "Say, uh..." He ran a spread hand through his hair the way he did when they were married. Is he nervous about something?
"Yes Josh?"
"I'm glad you have good security."
"What do you mean?" she asked, and threw her hands up. Why isn't he answering? What the— "Josh?"
Without turning around or stopping he said, "Security on your house. Keep it." He strode down the driveway, swinging his arms.
She kept her gaze on him until he walked out of view. "What is he talking about?" she muttered to herself.
Chapter Thirteen
A busy day awaited her at Crumley's Realty. The weatherman forecasted rain for the next two days. So dressing appropriately, she carried an umbrella with her laptop and purse. Scurrying across the parking lot, she headed for the office. The inky sky rumbled as she patted across the road stepping in puddles.
She entered the office, wiped the soles of her pumps on a mat and said, "Good morning,” to two or three sales people who looked up from their desks.
"Nice weather for ducks," gray haired Barbara Kanton said as she put a paper in the top drawer. "I hate showing property in this." Nora took off and her beige raincoat and hung it on the rack. At her desk she unzipped the computer case and she removed it. After taking a seat, she situated the computer in front of her and pressed the on button. Once Windows loaded, she clicked the schedule button to check the showings. There were two: at ten-thirty and another right after lunch. Calls and trips needed to be made. The afternoon showing raised questions, since she didn't take the call. The initials K.S. appeared in the "taken by" text box.
She gave the chubby woman two desks ahead a big, warm smile. "Katy thanks for taking the call from uh, Mr. Smith yesterday. I owe you."
The shadow of concentration in her eyes disappeared. "No problem. He wants to look at the old Finnigan property at the end of Locust Street."
"Oh, okay." The image of the lone house at the end of a quiet street entered her mind. She remembered the soft, green carpeting that sank under her feet. Brass handles, fixtures and knobs adorned cabinets, doors and the bathroom. It had a private boudoir that most women would die for.
Katy shrugged, rose and headed for the coffee pot. Her tone lightened after she returned with a steaming mug of coffee. "His cellular line faded in and out. I think he said his name was Smith."
"I appreciate it."
When Nora arrived at the house on the end of the quiet Locust Street, she noticed the silhouette of a male form sitting in a Ford. Is it him? Other cars passed. The wipers on their cars slap-slap-slapped, knocking off the rainwater. She braked, shifted into park and shut off the engine, naturally assuming he was the one who wanted to view the property. A couple of cars passed on the street; one was a police cruiser who probably just patrolled his beat.
After grabbing a couple of flyers and her umbrella, she climbed out onto the sidewalk, pressed the auto-key lock. Holding the umbrella in one hand and the papers in the other, she strode up to the car. Her mouth dropped open when he drove away, turned at the next corner and drove south. Thinking she had been mistaken, that he had not been the perspective client, she went back to her car and climbed in out of the rain. She impatiently waited for the real house buyer. Twenty minutes transpired and no one arrived. I guess he'll call again if he wants to see the house. Feeling perplexed, she drove back to town and parked in the lot outside Crumley's Realty.
Upon arriving back at her desk, she put her briefcase down and began unbuttoning her raincoat. "That was a waste..."
"What do you mean?" Katy looked up from her paperwork and asked, "How did it go?"
"It didn't."
"Ew. Sorry."
Nora shrugged and placed her purse on the floor behind her desk. "It was so damned odd."
Twisting around in her seat, Katy looked up wearing a questioning gaze. She tore a piece of gold paper from the roll of breath mints that she held. "What was?"
Nora hung her beige raincoat on the rack near the door. "He didn't stay. He drove off."
"The buyer?" Katy popped Certs into her mouth and resumed working.
"Yeah."
Katy shoved her glasses farther up her nose and sorted through some new listings. "Well, maybe he decided not to buy." She made a simple gesture with her hand and added, "I've seen all types of things happen in this business."
"Yeah, me too," Nora said, brushing off the entire occurrence. "Oh well. You win some, you lose some."
"Oh, Nora. The heating and refrigeration company called here for you at the office. They came and got the key you left here and fixed your AC. Oh…and they said they'll be sending the bill. I told them I’d tell you."
"Oh, well thanks."
* * * *
Four days, two sales and six showings later, Nora braked at the curb in front of a one-and-a-half story, ranch home. She maneuvered the Taurus so that it parked parallel to the front of the house.
Better late than never. A few drops of breath spray freshened her breath, making it taste minty. She lowered the visor, checked her makeup in the mirror and flipped it back up. The sun peeked over a darkened copse of trees a quarter of a mile away, casting a golden glow on the houses, yards and cars. A lone, slender tree grew in the front yard, near the road.
An older, black Ford sat in the driveway. It didn’t have a license plate. Odd. Maybe it belongs to the neighbors. I’ll call them and tell them it’s a no-no to park there.
It bothered her that people moved away from the cul de sac. It’s a nice neighborhood. I don’t get it.
A Crumley’s Realty sign swayed in the breeze and a cat curled up on a stone on a barren planter near the garage. The light brown brick with its color-coordinated roof appealed to her. The light beige siding matched the trim. A plus for potential sales.
Nora rifled through her purse and located the cell phone. She pecked Charley’s home number onto the keypad and reached the answering machine. “I’m working late tonight,” she said. “I won’t be able to make it for supper. Sorry about the late notice. I’ll grab a burger on the way home. Trying to sell the Gooden house. Wish me luck. See you later. Boy will I. Hah! Mm-wa. Bye.”
A little anxious, she attempted to put the phone back in its case, missed the hole and dropped the electronic. “Crap.” Leaning, she reached into the passenger floorboards, nabbed the handset and sat up. On the second try, she put the phone back in its holder and shoved it into the over-flowing glove box. I must remember to get it out and charge it. Still no one showed up for the viewing. I’ll go on in.
Carrying her handbag, flyers filled with data on other listings and keys, she gave the car door handle a push, climbed out and pressed the auto car-lock button. From her jacket pocket, she located a lone key.
With a quick turn of the wrist, she caught the time—6:10 PM. Surely this Mr. Smith’ll show up soon. There’s a silver lining; I’ll check the house out.
At the door, she fit the brass sliver into the lock, shoved the door until it opened wide and entered the vacated home. New paint odor, scented the air. Nora left the door open, to let the house air out. Maybe I should open a few windows. She traipsed across the dense beige carpeting and through the rest of the house letting in the fresh breeze.
To see if the electricity remained on since the last time she showed it, she flipped the light switch and noted the kitchen ceiling light. Booklets and the appliance warranty information occupied a breakfast bar in the kitchen.
At 6:15 PM a man who wore sunglasses, a black shirt and slacks appeared in the bedroom doorway. He looked clean cut...but mean. She froze in place for a moment. The white man’s hair was short and black, but she couldn’t tell too much more about him except that he stood around six feet tall and weighted around two hundred pounds.
“Mr. Smith? Hi I-I’m Nora Aames, Crumley Realty.” He didn’t smile or offer a
hand to shake. This guy’s not wearing the usual, friendly expression of a buyer. His sudden presence put her on high alert.
Without offering his hand he snarled, “Shuddup. Give me your money and jewelry.”
Jewelry and money? This has to be a sick joke. She’d read office memos regarding assaults. Let keys jut out between your fingers. Use them like brass knuckles.
In a menacing way that made her flinch, he slammed the door shut and took a step forward, not bothering to remove his sunglasses.
What the— She back stepped and swallowed hard. Her voice shook. “What?” Her eyes widened in surprise and fear. She raised a hand to her chest. Her heart skipped a beat. Gripping the keys, she took a shaky breath. “Who are you?”
Displaying impatience, he extended a still hand and motioned by waving his fingers. “Hand it over.”
Keep your head, girl. Survive this storm. ”I beg your pardon?”
He growled in a New York accent, “Hurry the fuck up. Don ‘choo shoot off yer mout’ lady, I’ll pay you a-nuddah visit. You don wan’ that.”
“No.”
“Come on! Damn bitch.” He yanked her purse until the strap dropped off her shoulder. She nearly lost her footing, and held herself up by holding the closet door.
His erratic hand movements threatened her. He dumped the contents of her purse on the floor, yanked the bills out and tossed the wallet onto the floor. He held up the wad of bills from her wallet. “This ain’t shit.” He curled the bills and stuffed them into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. “You tell that ignorant husband of yours—”
Her words turned screechy. “I don’t have a husband.” I need to act. Or do I? If he just wants money, it’s not worth risking—
“Don tell me that. I know beddah. Josh is an asshole for puttin’ his wife in this situation. Tell ‘em he owes me two grand and we’re even. Got that? An I don’ advise callin’ the cops.” He shoved her away and spit out angry words. “I’ll be back, and when I do, I’ll bust ya again for more money. An tell that husband of yours I’ll keep doin’ it until his debt is paid. Got that, bitch?” He straightened his suit jacket, grasped the doorknob and opened the door. Scowling, he hurried from the house, leaving the door ajar and Nora in tears.
Her heart thundering in her chest, she peered out the window and saw the old, black Ford speeding down the road.
Nora raced down the driveway with the keys to her car. Once she climbed inside and located the cell phone, she pecked the numbers 911 on the keypad.
Chapter Fourteen
Dusk had edged the graying sky with shades of purple and rose outside the Hodgkinsville Police Department. Between lulls in Detective Miller’s questioning, she’d gaze out at the ever-darkening scene, wanting the whole nightmarish episode in her life to end. After they shook hands and went their separate ways, she drove to Schooner Cul De Sac with Charley following two car lengths behind in his truck. At Charley's house, concern fixed on his expression as he cooked broiled chicken, pasta salad and a baked potato.
When he began wrapping a potato with foil he said, “You go ahead and take your shower. Do whatever you want. I’ll take care of supper. You've been through a lot. Watch some TV. Put your feet up,” he said in an I-won’t-bother-you-for-anything tone.
They ate a solemn dinner and then a little before eleven, Charley locked the house up. A few minutes after ten, in bed, the amazing man wrapped his arms around her. “It’s going to be okay. I’m going to keep you safe. When you have showings with strangers, you can call me. If I’m at work we’ll have Jeff or someone we both trust stand close.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. “I hate to be a problem…”
“You’re not that. This was a bad dude you dealt with today, it sounds like.”
As they reclined face to face, his warm breath tickled her cheek. “I love you and I’m going to take care of you.” She welcomed the love and affection he gave her, but she needed some R & R.
The image of the horrible, hateful man with the New York accent loomed in her mind. She didn’t want to discuss him again. "Do you mind if I turn over, Charley? I’m not angry. I’m—I’ve just been through a lot. I’m sorry."
He pressed a finger to her lips. "Shhh. Sleep. Do whatever you want tonight. Everything will be okay."
"I always sleep on my right side. Is that okay?"
"Mm hm. It’s fine."
She turned away, smiled over her shoulder even though darkness surrounded them. Nora yawned as he snuggled up to her back and put his nose into her hair, reminding her he cared. I feel safe and warm. A quarter of an hour later sleep drew her into its shadowy fringes.
In the middle of the night, after both of them made a trip to the bathroom, Charley asked, "How would you like to take a mini road trip? To get away."
Her eyes opened to the soft darkness of her room. "Really? When?"
"This weekend? It’s the Fourth of July Saturday, isn’t it? You're off, aren't you? I know I am."
She considered his request and couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do more "Uh, yes. I’d love to."
"We can eat out and ride around and see the sights?"
She turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to his lips. "It sounds great."
* * * *
By Saturday morning, her mood brightened because she’d forced the encounter out of her mind. It’s just not healthy to dwell on the negative. I need to accentuate the positive. They traveled south, from Hodgkinsville, riding in Charley’s truck with no destination in mind. Along the way they gazed at the green landscape passing in the window-cows, gray, unpainted barns, small towns and fields of corn and beans. They stayed on the two lane state routes that took them through towns. I need to count Charley as one of the positives.
A wooden sign with block letters read “Byerly's Bed and Breakfast—rooms available,” which caught Nora’s eye. Charley pressed the brakes in front of a white sided, two-story, early Victorian home with green spires and black ornamental ironwork on the roof. "This must be it. It’s homey looking, isn’t it?"
"It’s lovely," she said, and turned her gaze to a smaller sign which stated, Rooms Available.
“It is. Want to stay here?"
She smiled. "Sure."
A few minutes after eleven, they had arrived and planned to spend the day and night.
Standing in the deep red dining room on soft carpeting, the proprietor of the home gave them directions to the vacant room. "It has more privacy than all the others," the blonde haired, tall woman explained. “You’re lucky to get it. And it’s a holiday, you know.”
The woman struck Nora as sweet. Deep lines etched her face and hands. She gazed at Nora over a pair of gold-rimmed glasses. "They canceled out at the last minute." Her hair had been brushed back into a bushy white ponytail. “You look like a nice couple and I’m glad to rent it to you.”
Nora mused, privacy is definitely what we want. The three of them climbed the narrow stairs to a lone room located down a dimly lit corridor. The bedchamber occupied a space on the west side of the house, separate from other rooms. A bit of the late morning sun filtered in the lace curtained window. The room smelled fresh and clean. It struck Nora as quaint, with its thick, patchwork quilts covering the tall, poster bed. Victorian, rose-printed wallpaper adorned the walls.
Charley turned in place and looked around the medium-sized room while Nora stepped into the small adjacent room. To her satisfaction, it had an ivory and gold bathroom with a shower-combination sauna.
"I'll go get our suitcases and pay."
“Great.”
Once they were settled, they took a walk around the square and a park. At the city pool, they stood behind a chain link fence, under a shade tree and watched kids swim and then walked over to where girls played volleyball and watched them. They bought hot dogs and drank sodas at a vendor’s trailer. They returned to their room, showered and dressed casually in shorts and sandals and dined at Clementine's Steak House. A waiter escorted them to their table and the
y ate steak, baked potato and salad. The waitress brought a bottle of house red wine to their red and white checkered table. After they drank most of the bottle they strolled back to the bed and breakfast. Fireworks burst in the sky and kids waved sparklers.
Charley locked the door, sat on the edge of the mattress, deposited the contents of his pockets on the dresser and began unbuttoning his shirt. Once her own shirt was on the chair beside his, she pulled her shorts down her legs. In the dimly lit room, she took in his strong profile. He shed his shoes and unzipped his pants. Outside, shiny bursts exploded and crackled. She slipped her shoes and put them beside his at the door. She folded and piled all her clothes on a chair and stood before him without wearing clothes. He rose off the edge of the bed and went to her. His lips claimed hers as his rough hands cupped the soft skin of her chin. He brushed his lips along the curve of her neck, feathering kisses.
He raised his mouth and rimmed her ear. “One night, sexy lady, you just may get tied to the bed. Then what?”
What brought this delicious idea up? Her mouth dropped as she pictured having her wrists tied to the headboard. Interesting. She laughed. “Here?” She slid her spread hands up his chest and connected her fingers behind his neck.
In a very suggestive tone he said, “Not here. At home maybe?”
“Mm,” she said in delighted shock, as the hold-up she’d endured withered to nothingness in the back of her mind. Even though she realized the chance was there that the mugger may come back.
* * * *
The following Tuesday afternoon, Nora called Charley at work. He had just finished making final entries in the daily maintenance log. The four o'clock buzzer sounded and he entered the locker room. His cell phone tinkled.
"Charley?"
"Hi, Nora," he said in a pleased tone. "What's going on?"
"Oh, I'm sorry to bother you."
"It's okay," he said as he left the building and walked toward the parking lot.
"In a few minutes I've got to show a house. Well, I don't know and haven't seen the perspective buyer. Another agent took the call and he's asked for me. It's just odd. You told me to call...I dunno, I'm sorry to be such a pain..." Her voice held a worried edge.
Loving Thy Neighbor (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 7