DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE (20 page)

Her number was in the book, listed under her dead husband’s name. It was fortunate that she talked about Walt frequently.

“Marie, would you check to see if there is a fat man in a brown suit in the foyer?”

“What, honey, you interested in this man?”

Several of the older women in the building were curious about Jean’s love life. So far, she had been a serious disappointment to them.

“I’m interested in
not
seeing him.”

“Ooh! He’s a—what do they call—oh, yes, is he
stalking
you?”

Maybe it was a good idea to have a few people on the lookout for her.

“Yes, he is. Don’t go near him. Just let me know if he’s there now.”

Jean gave her phone number to a delighted Marie. It was almost fun to put a little excitement into her life.

A few minutes later, Jean’s phone rang.

“You’re safe. Make a run for it!”

In spite of the circumstances, Jean laughed. “I’ll be right down!”

 
Chapter 34

Hua was at the duty desk, on the phone as usual. Hua’s ongoing business was amazing. Grateful there was no need to stop and talk, Jean smiled faintly, lifted her hand in a quick acknowledgement and moved on to Ed’s office.

“Harold’s back. At my apartment.”

Ed was never quick. He took a few seconds to think through this information.

“Is there any reason for you to be afraid?”

“I think he …” Jean decided not to be too positive. “… might be the one who killed Theresa, don’t you? Because of the psychiatrist and the letter opener, making it sharp? And this isn’t the first time. He’s very persistent about taking me out. I don’t know what to do.”

Ed closed his eyes and nodded slowly.

“Uncomfortable at best. Maybe … Yes, I see there is a basis for your suspicion. Can’t have you living in this situation. Could you stay with Rita again?”

“For how long? Not forever.”

“I’ll call Jack Turok.”

Jean shook her head.

“They quit watching Harold before. They won’t now. There’s been no threat. He just wants to date me. And it scares the hell out of me!”

Ed rubbed the back of his neck. Not a good sign.

“Let’s ask Viv,” he said finally, picking up the phone.

Ed explained the situation. Then he finished and listened. Furrows in his face disappeared. He began to smile, to utter little humming sounds of agreement.

Then he set the phone down and said, “Well, that settles that, then. Count on Viv! You’ll stay with us!”

“Stay with you? That can’t go on forever, either.”

“It can go on for quite a while. We have a walkout basement. Your own entrance, bedroom and bath and the rec room for a living room. Has a ‘fridge and sink for cookouts. Don’t have cookouts much any more. Viv says we can stick a microwave down there. Our place is closer to the University and it’s close to here. We’ll tell the staff not to tell Harold where you are.”

Ed spread his arms, hands palms up, a smile on his face. Problem solved!

Jean turned the idea around in her mind. She was accustomed to her privacy. No doubt the Brumms were, too. It was as if Ed heard her.

“We’ll stay out of each other’s way. You can live your own life. Your own entrance. No accounting to us. You’re smiling. You’re going to do it, aren’t you?”

Jean was thinking this would be the first time she would be living with an acceptable mother and father. Not something she wanted to say to Ed. Not even something she felt strongly about any more. Ed and Vivian were just friends. She was reluctant to impose, but the safety of it had strong appeal.

“Vivian is okay with this?” she asked.

“Vivian is delighted.” Ed’s smile faded into seriousness. “She knows your situation and she’s kind of beginning to think of you as the daughter she could never have.”

Jean had felt that herself.

“Thanks, Ed. That’s a lovely offer. Let me think.”

She went back to the empty staff room.

The thinking was easier than expected.

If—when—Ellie’s latest alliance fails, the apartment will be hers and she can pay the rent till the lease runs out. Then I can use a storage locker. I don’t have much. For later, there are apartments closer to the University, maybe cheap student quarters. No possibility of Ellie moving in with the Brumms. In fact, better if she doesn’t know where I’m staying. Not a mother who would worry about where her daughter was. Maybe no one should know. That way no one can let it slip. Ellie can call my cell.

But what about the obligation? There’s no chance the Brumms would accept rent. Maybe I can do some chores. Yes. I will definitely do some chores. As long as it seems to work for the Brumms and I don’t stay too long …

Back at the door to Ed’s office, she accepted his offer.

“Viv will be delighted,” Ed said.

Jean was pretty sure he was right.

 
Chapter 35

A call to Rosie assured Jean that Harold wasn’t in the hall, so the stealthy first move could be made immediately. Jean didn’t want to spend another night where Harold could find her. The second call was to Rita, who assured her that she was welcome to come back for a night while the Brumms got the basement apartment ready for her. Rita would pick her up in twenty minutes and would drive so Jean’s car wouldn’t be visible near her apartment.

Rita drove a little more irresponsibly than usual, but Jean uttered no complaint. Speed mattered. Rita went in first and came back to assure Jean there was no sign of Harold. After a quick thank you to Rosie, they headed for the basement to collect some of the always available empty boxes. They moved rapidly, Jean’s heart pounding as she reassured herself over and over that there was nothing to fear with Rita nearby. There were two of them and they could outrun Harold without trying.

Some dishes wrapped in odds and ends of clothes and towels, all the food, toiletries, some books, a few decorative pieces from Jean’s childhood and framed photographs were shoved into the boxes with no regard for neatness. Clothes in the closet were left on their hangers for Ed’s van tomorrow and the only set of sheets for the bed were left for Ellie.

Fear gradually lost its hold on the way to Rita’s apartment. A message left on Ellie’s cell phone explained she was on the run and Ellie could have the apartment if she wanted it. There was a strong feeling that the final packing tomorrow would be the last she would see of the tiny apartment that had served her well.

The next morning, Ed brought his big van and the three of them filled it with a favorite small Victorian chair, cleaning supplies, the rest of Jean’s clothes and Grandmother’s quilt. Rosie was at the lobby window, phone in hand, ready to sound the alert if Harold appeared, excited to be part of what she called “the action,” but not at all happy about Jean’s departure so early in the adventure.

It took more time than any of them expected. The clothes on hangers were awkward. Jean grew nervous; she wasn’t sure why. Surely Harold wouldn’t follow them to the Brumms’ house and she was safely surrounded by friends. Finally, Rosie was hugged and thanked at her “station” by the window and Jean ran for Ed’s van.

Vivian made lunch while the other three trooped up and down from the van to the basement apartment that easily swallowed Jean’s few possessions. They ate in the kitchen, a generous room of walnut cabinets and gold countertops and flooring, a space as big as Jean’s abandoned apartment. Vivian had fixed tuna sandwiches, iced tea and fresh pineapple. Jean felt light. At last she had the family she used to dream of. Now it was just a joy that she had friends who cared and were willing to provide a home for her.

“No one is to know you’re here, Jean,” Ed said as he stabbed a chunk of fruit. “Except Rita.”

“Not even my mother,” Jean said emphatically. “Cell phones are totally great!”

“Must be handy for crooks,” Rita mused.

They laughed. They had laughed a lot this morning.

After lunch, Rita left for an appointment. Jean raised her eyebrows, but Rita gave her an emphatic shake of her head. This wasn’t that kind of an appointment.

The other three went down to Jean’s new home. Vivian wanted to make sure Jean had everything she needed. Ed explained the TV, Vivian the washer and dryer.

“We’ll be here if you need to ask any more questions, Jeannie. Right now, we’d better get back to the office to do some catch-up. Here’s your key,” Ed said, handing it to her. “It’s to those sliding glass doors. What else, Viv?”

“I think that’s more than enough for now. Let Jean get settled.” Vivian put a hand on Jean’s arm. “Feel that this is your home. You’re not a visitor here. This place is much too big for us. We want you to stay as long as you like.”

The way she looked at Jean, more than her words, made Jean feel welcome.

“I’ll find some way to help,” she said.

Neither Ed nor Vivian seemed to care, but Jean was determined that she would.

The morning had been fun as well as a great relief. But in Jean’s memory, the moment when she was alone in the apartment would always be the best. She wandered through what was to her a huge space, the generous bedroom—a queen size bed!—the luxurious bathroom, the rec room, now living room, that would seat ten people on the chairs and two sofas, the TV three times the size of the one left for Ellie, and, through the glass doors, a patio with comfortable wicker furniture instead of one canvas chair on a balcony. And a yard! Never in her life had Jean been able to walk directly onto a lawn from her living quarters. She would study outdoors on this lovely wicker sofa. And she would earn her keep. The wicker would have to be brought in when the weather turned cold. There were gardens out there that needed tending and she would cook for Ed and Vivian once in a while. For the first time, she was grateful for all the meals she had had to prepare for her father. If it worked out, if the Brumms would agree to some rent, maybe this would be her home for a long time.

 
Chapter 36

The rest of summer didn’t live up to its advertising. There were no lazy, hazy days. Jean’s small group of high school friends got together once in a while, the meetings much more comfortable now that she was able to talk about college, too, although she was the only one on her own and the last year had created differences that separated them: the amount of free time, their different financial situation, even Jean’s mood. Fear, of Harold and of being a suspect, was fading, but not gone. She couldn’t speak to them of what was most on her mind.

The DeLucca’s settlement was a joy. Agents could sit back, smile and let the settlement officers do the work. The hugs and regretful goodbyes provided Jean’s first realization that a Realtor had a career of interludes, of perpetual beginnings and endings. The DeLuccas were on their way to Florida.

Fortunately, Jean was never on duty the few times Harold phoned the office. His messages were ignored. Ed finally took the phone and ordered him to stop trying to reach Jean. After a few weeks, it was clear Harold intended to obey that order. It seemed to Jean that he was strangely noncombative for a killer. Rosie lost her job as reporter; Harold never appeared again at the apartment building. Jean could have moved back, but Ellie was living there now and it was clear that Jean’s presence in the Brumms’ house wasn’t intrusive. Bringing in the mail on rainy days, taking out the trash and cleaning up the kitchen seemed small things, but Jean came to realize the Brumms, busy as they were, appreciated the help. It was comfortable that their bedrooms were on the second floor and she was in the basement.

Vivian had never liked cooking and as time went on Jean abandoned her mini-kitchen and took over the chore of fixing meals for the three of them or they worked together. Jean specialized in meat. Vivian didn’t mind making salads. She said there was no way to overcook a salad. This living situation had a sad side. Jean and Ellie had never cooked together. Perhaps,
she thought, not having this kind of family life when she was young only made her appreciate it more now. Maybe it was better to start with few luxuries, better to move up than down
.

Certain TV shows became their date nights, when they met in the spacious living room to watch together. It wasn’t long before Jean felt comfortable stretching out on the couch as she had done on her sofa-bed in the apartment. They went to church together unless Ed had to be at the office and ice skating became a twice weekly exercise for Jean and Vivian. It was nice what it did to the female figure. Rita talked her into buying some tighter pants. Men noticed.

Business was bad, but not completely dead. Dead enough for Jean, however, that she could deal with a hefty share of Wayne’s paperwork while at the duty desk. Wayne had nothing that could be called records, only scribbled notes that required his help in translating into proper files. Scouting took a great deal of time. Wayne was particular about finding properties easy to maintain and the trips took her to unfamiliar areas, some in D.C. neighborhoods she would not have wanted to visit in the dark, others in outlying towns. Gradually, the search for properties for the REIT dwindled, replaced by interviewing and installing tenants as the properties went to settlement. Once Jean set up the files, Vivian added them to the new property management division, which was growing quickly. The slow market had created a large body of properties whose owners, unable to sell, needed to rent, another way their small but now diversified office had managed to take advantage of the real estate slump. Work on the upper level of the office was finished by the second week of August. The moving in and setting up would be finished by the time school began.

A new agent, John Dobrino, joined them when he finished the state required course. He was a welcome addition, a young man who, like Jean, had been lured into the business through a newspaper ad and was also initially failing to make a living. Unlike Kevin, he was a reasonably competent businessman with a shy smile that hid an abundance of determination. Ed was relieved when Jean said she didn’t want office referrals. He could give them to John, to keep him in the office, with no apology to Kevin, who was content to be Hua’s gopher and, more and more, her driver as well.