DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE (7 page)

She dropped back onto the couch.

“Okay, so Theresa was a little … distant. Not warm. But she was important to me, helped me a lot. And I
am
sad, not really up to this detective stuff. Anyway, won’t the police take care of this?”

“They’ll take care of a lot of stuff we can’t, like interviewing neighbors and investigating Theresa’s other friends, but we know our staff better than they do. We can just talk about it and see what comes up. And …” Rita paused and made sure she had her friend’s attention. “I know a lie when I see one. Not just because of my family. There was this course the board offered. The guy called them “tells,” like they do in poker, little physical signs that clue you into a person’s thoughts and emotions. Very useful when closing a deal. You should take it.”

“Can’t afford it. But I get it. Like on TV. ‘Criminal Minds.’ Behavioral analysis. And that other one, ‘Lie to Me’. We can do that. And I guess I can do this. Can’t think about anything else anyway, so okay, I will play your game.” Jean paused. “Maybe I owe it to her. New thought there. I’m only thinking of myself, aren’t I? Although I can’t imagine anyone in our office …”

A sip of wine drowned the unwelcome thought.

“So I really do need to talk to Ed,” Rita said. “He’s known her the longest. This was just the agents yesterday, trading stories about our interviews with that incredibly sexy detective.”

Jean tried to bring up a picture of the figures that had interviewed her yesterday.

“Was he incredibly sexy?”

“You
were
totally out of it, weren’t you? Yes. He was. Grim. Something massively sexy about grim in a dark, handsome, really
built
guy. I did not appreciate you and Viv arriving when you did last night. He might have stayed. But you’re forgiven. Detectives aren’t allowed to date potential suspects, anyway. I asked.”

“Still think it’s odd he came here.”

“Not really. I think they tracked down all of us ASAP. See where we were. And somebody told him I was your best friend. I was
grilled
about you. Ever so sweetly.” Rita grinned. “Great fun! Now. Who do you think would have had the guts to stick that thing in Theresa’s neck? You’re the one with the imagination. Oh, wait! Forgot where I was. Call Ed and find out who came in the office and could have taken the letter opener.”

“Don’t want to.”

Jean wished Rita wouldn’t keep pulling up that unwanted image. She cupped her hands around the comforting glass of wine.

“Okay.” Rita unfolded herself and got up. “You’ve got a hell of an excuse.”

Rita dialed, hung up, hit the repeat button and hung up again. This went on for some time before she gave up and went back to her spot on the floor.

“All the lines are busy. Should have known. Probably a few hundred agents in the county want to hear every detail. We can stop by this afternoon after we get your clothes and your car. Or we can wait till Tuesday. You going?”

“Going?”

“To sales meeting.”

Jean slowly pulled in that thought. The decision came more quickly.

“For sure. Not staying alone here with nothing to think about but …”

Another sentence Jean didn’t want to finish. She set her empty wine glass on the floor and rolled onto her back, light-headed from the wine and feeling better. There were probably other suspects, not just her office family.

“There’s something we don’t know. Some motive,” she said. “We need an heir who stopped in the office Saturday.” Jean closed her eyes, wanting it all to go away.

Rita rubbed the back of her neck, an echo of Ed.

“Problem is it would be too obvious to come into the office to get a murder weapon. So back to us. Same problem there, though. Why would anyone from our office use a weapon that would incriminate us? Symbolic? Jealousy? Someone who would never earn the money that Theresa did? Why wouldn’t anyone—in the office or not—use a knife from home? Or a hardware store? Shit! We’re going to get hung up on that question no matter where we start.”

“Ignore it,” Jean advised, aware that she was looking for an easy way out.

“Okay.” Rita was clearly pleased Jean was at least willing to participate. “This table has the name of everyone in the office except us. The next column is PERSONALITY PROBABILITY. That’s why you’re not on it. Maybe I should be.”

“Rita!”

“What? You know I didn’t like Theresa and I could kill under the right circumstances.”

Rita rearranged her legs again, cross-legged, and set the computer in front of them.

“Next column, MOTIVE, then OPPORTUNITY.”

Jean ate a slice of cucumber, wondering how she could keep eating.

“Who’s first?” she asked.

“Kevin. He was there.”

“Not when I got there.”

“Wanted to watch some baseball game on TV. Wouldn’t have done any harm to turn on the TV until someone came, but she sent him home. Sounds like Theresa. This thing never did scare her and remember how pissed she was about sharing the commission?”

“So that’s what he said,” Jean said thoughtfully. “But he was right there. They do say the quiet ones, the ones you least suspect, are sometimes repressed and when they lose it, they lose it big time. That could be Kevin. But he needed her. The only money he earned was from her.” Jean thought about her own relationship with Theresa and added, “she used him a lot but didn’t pay much.”

“Good thinking, girlfriend!” Rita sounded surprised. “Maybe he was repressing anger until the right time. Those other two things, the first murder and the other where the agent was threatened, maybe they provided the right time. This could have been planned, so he could have taken the opener. But the opener doesn’t tie in with the others and Kevin is at least bright enough to see that.” Rita paused, her hands over the keys. “But, you know, that thing might have had some significance for him. Sign of success, which he didn’t have?” The fingers began moving. “Good. We got us a suspect. Who’s next?”

“Harold,” Jean said.

Rita’s eyebrows went up.

“That didn’t take long. Why Harold?”

“A social misfit. He’s always kind of, I don’t know, been a little scary maybe? Uncomfortable, at least,” she modified.

“Hah! Of course! And he’s the one who sharpened Theresa’s opener when she complained about it ripping up envelopes! Goes in PERSONALITY PROBABILITY.” Rita’s fingers stopped moving. “But Harold was with you.”

“Took almost two hours’ worth of forever to write that offer. I heard voices once, but you never hear Harold. That creepy low croon doesn’t carry. So maybe he wasn’t with the people. A woman looked into the kitchen, but didn’t come in. Agent, I thought. I’m not sure I heard Harold all that time. I know I didn’t see him.” Jean suddenly backed off her argument. “Maybe I was just concentrating on what I was doing.”

“But he could have gone out.”

“Yeah, he could have gone out. Theresa was only about ten minutes away. But he knew Kevin was supposed to be there. Anyhow, couldn’t have risked being found out. If people had come in the kitchen and asked me to see the house, I’d have known he was gone. Or if I had finished the offer sooner … Didn’t you talk to him last night?”

“Talk to Harold? Who would call Harold?”

The two stared at each other, but only for a moment. Harold wasn’t stupid. He had a perfect excuse. Rita said it first.

“He could have said he went out for food!”

“He always does!”

Jean dropped back onto the couch cushions.

“That just leaves the problem of Kevin, who should have been there. I s’pose Harold could have called and found out Kevin had gone. But why would he?”

“We don’t have to know why. That goes in the huge barrel of things we have to find out. Anyhow, we have no motive for killing Theresa. For all we know he intended to kill Kevin. Or maybe both of them.”

Rita said this calmly, but it made Jean feel sick.

“Okay!” Rita punched keys with an astonishing rapidity. “No alibi maybe! Motive! Motive?” She looked at Jean.

“Not that I know of. Don’t know anything about Harold except that he’s rich and enormous.”

“That time he sharpened Theresa’s letter opener,” Rita said. “That’s why you picked him, isn’t it?”

“Definitely. It was creepy, the way he took forever, enjoyed it. Who next?”

“Stan.”

“Stan? Why? Their arguments are never about anything serious!”

“I don’t know. He was in the Marines before college, so he’s trained to kill. Doesn’t like her and there’s something there in the office history that might be a motive. I think Stan’s parents leaving had something to do with Theresa.”

“I get that feeling, too. No! No!” Jean pushed the suspicion away with a wave of her hand. “He had that friend with him and I think Ed was there in the afternoon.”

“Nope. Stan wanted to keep all his commission if it sold, so he never asked anyone to be with him. And Ed came, but when he got there, Stan was trying to hold on to some buyers that didn’t like Stan’s house, so Ed took them to see some other places.”

“That’s why Ed didn’t answer his phone. Buyers. Stan. Was Stan busy?”

“Nope. Not much activity on those high dollar places. No one came after Ed left, so he’s a possible. Lily’s out. Performing at some concert. I got nothing for Hua or Marian. Both home alone by mid afternoon, so no alibis, but I can’t see them killing anyone. Then there’s Ed and Vivian. Obvious Ed doesn’t—didn’t like her. Lots of bad feelings and arguments, but the office might fold now without Theresa. Neither of them would want that.”

“Fold?”

This was a startling idea. Not a good one.

“We’re barely making it. Ed’s been too stubborn to join up with one of the big guys. Hard to compete with companies that can buy in quantity, share trainers and stuff, pay for ads on TV. Don’t know why he doesn’t do that. Has a great reputation. Don’t know why Theresa didn’t leave, either. She even hated the name,
Brumm Realtors,
needed the help bigger offices give and would have had more chances at those big in-house sales commissions. Elegant lady, too. Give her that. Wasn’t much that was classy about our office. A dump, really.”

“Ed’s a man. A man’s more likely to knife someone.”

Rita stared at her friend. “You’re naïve, kid. You ought to meet my family. Or not. Not might be better. So we got four possibles, Harold, Stan, Ed and Kevin, three unlikelys, Hua, Marian and Vivian and possibly some outsiders. What we got, really, is not much. No. Too much.”

“We have organization. What next?”

Rita raised her glass.

“Now we watch. And listen. Carefully.”

“Not today,” Jean said, pulled the throw more closely around her neck and closed her eyes.

 
Chapter 13

At the office that afternoon, Jean felt wrapped in a cocoon of sympathy, gentle touches, hugs and words of compassion. Hua kept shaking her head, saying over and over, “Bad! Bad! Bad for you!” Jean wasn’t even embarrassed by the tears this caring treatment provoked. There had been no such support when her father died.

“There are some small business matters we need to cover, Jean. Are you up to it?” Ed asked when the knot of friends began to untie itself.

He led the way into his odd little kitchen office, passing Harold at the duty desk. The memory of throwing orders at him as she left on Sunday surfaced, but Harold was smiling as usual, so Jean supposed that had been all right and he had carried them out. If not, the DeLuccas would forgive her.

“I’m surprised you’re even here today, Jeannie,” Ed said as the three of them arranged themselves in the small room, Ed at his desk, Jean across from him, Rita in the corner where the stove used to be. “Are you all right carrying on with the DeLucca sale?”

“Better to do something. I’ve got Rita here. She’s my memory. This has been a real … a real …”

There were no available words to describe the emotional stew of shock, sorrow, gratitude and rejoicing that had engulfed her in the last twenty-four hours. Jean tried to forgive herself for the undercurrent of happiness that was rising now at the thought of the double commission from the sale of her own listing. Surely it was all right to be glad she could continue to pay her rent and eat for a few months.

“I got your camera. Your pictures are on the internet. Your car’s here, you probably noticed. DeLuccas were thrilled. Upset about your experience, of course. Nice people. Buyers want the inspection Wednesday afternoon at twelve. Start on his lunch hour. I can do that if you don’t want to. Theresa’s funeral …” Ed was right to speak tentatively. This was a lot to handle so soon. “… is ten o’clock Wednesday morning. Are you up to it?”

He was leaning across the desk and, if he had been next to her as he had been yesterday, his arm would have been around her, Jean was sure.

“I can do it. Both of them. The funeral and the inspection. I have to.”

Jean thought it was funny how often she had said those three words. Usually they had to do with Ellie.

The office phone on Ed’s desk rang. That was Harold’s problem.

“You got a call from Theresa’s attorney earlier this afternoon. He wants to talk to you, so I guess Theresa left you something. Wanted you to come to his office, but I told him you were in bad shape, so he said he’d come here. Told him he could come Friday morning. You’re on duty.” Ed listed these items slowly, watching for a reaction. “Is that okay? I’ll cover for you.”

He reached a hand across the desk. Jean put hers out to meet his much warmer one.

“You don’t have to do any of this, Jeannie.”

Jean thought she probably would spend most of her time at the office this week. She didn’t want to be alone and Rita should be free to live her own life.

“It’s fine, Ed. Honestly. How did the attorney find out so soon?”

“One of the first things police check is who benefits financially.”

“Theresa told me she wanted her money to go to charities.”

“Maybe she left you a token, a ring or something. She had a lot of jewelry.”

“That would be nice.”

Jean could feel tears stinging her eyes. She had not expected this gesture. Perhaps Theresa had cared more for her more than she had cared for Theresa. This was a new thought, infected with guilt.