DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE Page 6

  “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?”

  “O
ne 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.

  “I’ll be here. It’s better being with people.”

  “I’ll come with her any time she needs me,” Rita assured Ed. “And Jean is staying with me for a while.”

  Rita waited only a fraction of a second to see if Ed had anything more before asking, “So you got nothing new from the police?”

  “Uh …” Ed was switching mental gears. “You all probably covered most of it Sunday night. I heard you did a lot of phoning.”

  “Anything you know we don’t? Anyone in the office have a motive?”

  Ed smiled. That was reassuring. It didn’t look as though anyone did.

  “Only me,” he said. “Theresa’s current contracts now belong to me, but I’ve lost all she would have earned the office in the future. Not much of a motive there.”

  “Maybe we don’t know the motive yet,” Rita persisted. “You got any ideas?”

  Ed looked from one to the other.

  “You two playing detective?”

  Jean was embarrassed. Rita wasn’t.

  “If one of us killed her, I want to know,” she said. “Hua saw Theresa using the letter opener Saturday morning. So it was taken after then. Seems like it has to be one of us.”

  Ed smiled.

  “It wasn’t.”

  “So where was everyone? Reassure me, boss.”

  Rita put a laugh into the request.

  Ed put his hands behind his head, tilted his chair back and stared into space.

  “Stan was at his open house—”

  “Any proof of that? He says no one came after you left.”

  “I really don’t know about proof. Not much of that at an empty open house. Kevin—”

  “Talked to Kevin. Went home to watch the baseball game. Alone. No proof there, either.”

  “He’s feeling guilty.” Ed’s voice became more positive. “As he should!”

  Rita gave Ed a moment to digest his anger before asking, “Harold?”

  “Harold? Harold was with Jean.” Ed looked at one, then the other, realizing they would have covered this. “He wasn’t?”

  “He could have gone out,” Jean said, wondering why she felt apologetic.

  Ed’s chair slammed against the floor as he sat up.

  “He left you? What the hell? Didn’t either of those two take my orders seriously?”

  Jean felt the need to defend Harold.

  “I don’t know he went out. I just didn’t see him. Anyway, I was with buyers. I was safe.”

  Ed’s face became redder as he shook his head.

  “Not good enough! Your buyers could have gone. And look what happened to Theresa!”

  The phone rang again. Two little green lights were lit, so Ed picked up the receiver, listened until he heard Harold answer and put it back.

  “So then, of course, there’s us,” Rita said. “And you and Vivian.”

  “Vivian?”

  That surprised him.

  “She had a key to the office, too. Any of us could have gotten the letter opener after you left,” Rita said.

  “Eliminate Vivian. I left after five on Saturday. We had dinner and watched TV till we went to bed. Church Sunday morning. Then I came here. Viv stayed for a luncheon meeting, got her usual ride home. Not enough time to come here for that damned letter opener and get to Theresa before you arrived, Jean. No.” Ed’s smile was noticeably indulgent this time. “Doesn’t make sense. The use of the opener seems to point to our office. Doesn’t that mean it would most likely have been used by someone outside the office trying to throw suspicion on us?”

  “Oh, good,” Jean said. It was almost a sigh.

  “Then who could have gotten that opener Saturday?”

  Rita’s pen hovered over her notebook.

  Ed leaned toward them, interested for the first time.

  “Had to be someone who got into the sales office while I was here. Kevin didn’t show for his floor time Saturday, so I took it for him. Damn few people came. I got this down pat. Had to tell the police three times. Place wasn’t broken into and only our staff has keys. I won’t even let the cleaning company have one. I come in with them Thursday nights. Hua’s daughter Lily stopped in. Was supposed to meet Hua for lunch, but she was still out with buyers. Wrote a message on Hua’s desk where to meet her and left to run an errand. Hua came about half an hour later and left to meet Lily. Before I could get organized to leave—that would be just before one—Eleanor Harding came looking for Wayne. Told her he wasn’t working here yet. Let her use a phone in the staff room to try to reach him. Said her cell phone was dead.”

  “She said.” Rita echoed.

  “Exactly,” Ed said with a meaningful emphasis. “Then Tim Docketter picked up a key to show one of our houses. The owners don’t trust lockboxes. Damn nuisance. Lot of agents won’t bother showing the house. He was alone while I got the key. Keep it in a locked drawer in my desk. Couldn’t close till he returned it. That was okay because Joshua Evanston, former client of Theresa’s, showed up. He never liked Theresa, but we got to be friends and he drops in once in a while. Interesting guy. Tim dropped off the key about three. Joshua would have been alone while I locked the key up or when I made a trip to the bathroom. Would have seen the opener on Theresa’s desk when he was working with her. Joshua and I talked until almost five. Maybe any one of the three of them could have grabbed that thing, but I doubt Tim even knew about it. My money’s on Eleanor Harding.”

  “Who is she, anyway? An agent?”

  Ed was looking at the phone on his desk. It was ringing again.

  “Please,” Jean said.

  It wasn’t a day Ed could refuse Jean anything. His eyes left the phone and he addressed Rita’s question.

  “Eleanor Harding.” Ed said this name slowly, emphatically. “Theresa brought her up before the Board on charges. Broker. Owned a real estate office in Kensington. Presented her agent’s offer on one of their listings and got a firm contract without mentioning another office had called to register an offer. That’s serious stuff. Theresa reported it. Went before Arbitration or Professional Standards, maybe both. Eleanor lost her license, so Theresa knocked her out of the real estate business.” He paused to emphasize his next words. “I’m betting she took the letter opener to throw suspicion on us.”

  That was more helpful than all the wine Jean had drunk for lunch. Rita was smiling, too, as she added an exclamation mark to this entry.

  “And the other two?”

  “Theresa talked Joshua Evanston into buying a house he couldn’t afford. Low initial interest rate. Rates went up, he couldn’t make the payments, sold the house for less than the loan and is in serious financial trouble. Common story these days. Lost his job as a professor at Mt. Vernon College when Georgetown took over the property. I can tell you he didn’t kill Theresa. Wrong type.”

  “Tim whatever?”

  Ed shook his head.

  “I don’t think they even knew each other.”

  The phone was ringing again. Ed looked disgusted.

  “This is going to drive me crazy. Calls are probably all for me about Theresa and I’ll have to return them some time. Harold,” he yelled through the doorway, “I’ll take my calls now.”

  Rita had closed her notebook, but she wasn’t ready to let go.

  “Who’s this Wayne Eleanor Harding thought was—”

  “I’m going to tell you all about Wayne tomorrow at sales meeting,” Ed said as he picked up the phone.

  The interview was over. They walked past Harold, still on the phone, on the way to the sales room. Je
an’s briefcase was on her desk. Inside, all the materials from the open house. She opened the guest book, turned to the first page and found her own entry and the Powers’. No one else wanted to be remembered. No record of witnesses as to whether or not Harold had gone out. But Jean could smile back at Harold on the way out. Ed had been convincing.

  “It wasn’t one of us!” Jean said as Rita bleeped her car door open.

  “Probably not one of us,” Rita corrected.

  “What do you mean, probably?”

  “Well, it isn’t Ed or Vivian. The tells. Ed was telling the truth all the way through.”

  “I was watching. Looked right at us, voice never wavered. Those are tells, right?”

  “Right. Leaned toward us, arms not crossed protectively across his chest, no hesitation at those critical moments. You got it. Contractions, too. You tend to speak more formally when you’re lying. So Ed and Vivian are out.”

  “Now what?”

  “Now we watch and wait!”

  Chapter 14

  It was not the usual Tuesday morning sales meeting. The entire staff, even Kevin, arrived early. Male voices could be heard in Ed’s office. Inside the sales room, the topic was no longer sympathy for Jean. The rumor was that there were thirty-three thousand dollars worth of Theresa’s listing commissions and her buyers, who were like gold in this market, to be distributed.

  Kevin was withdrawn, poring over a stack of files. Harold was eating chocolate doughnuts from a bag, sitting with some overflow even in Theresa’s large chair. Rita, Stan and Marian were debating their credentials for picking up a share of Theresa’s business. Jean was playing with Rita’s chart in order to avoid participating. The thought of profiting from Theresa’s death was uncomfortable, although she couldn’t help but hope she might. Hua, across from her, was chattering indecipherably on the phone, free hand waving punctuation.

  Ed’s appearance silenced all voices.