Realtors For Sale

by Diane Rapp

  Tamara shrugged, embarrassed at his praise. “Carra and Mike hired me to sell their personal residence, and now Mike and his partners listed a spec home in Montecito with me. If I close this deal, I could actually afford to buy a new car.”

  Jeff asked, “How are Carra and Mike? Do you still take Bentley to agility classes at their kennel?”

  “Yep. Today’s my day off, so we plan to attend another class. Bentley gets so excited when we turn into their driveway. His whole body vibrates and he makes little yipping noises.”

  Jeff sighed. “I miss training Bentley so much. Give him an extra dog cookie from me.” He gazed into the distance with a wistful expression. “It’s time for me to go back, honey. They don’t let us visit the living for very long.”

  Tears flooded Tamara’s eyes. “Please don’t leave yet. I’m so lonely without you, and I’d rather sleep forever if you could stay with me.” She reached out to grab his hand but her fingers passed through his. Jeff’s body turned filmy and started to fade away.

  “You’ll be fine, sweetheart. Keep Bentley at your side. He’s a really smart dog and will protect you when evil comes…” His voice grew distant as his body dissolved.

  “No!” Tamara cried. “Please stay with me!”

  She woke with a start, clutching Jeff’s empty pillow to her chest. She ran her hand across the cool sheet where he once slept, sorry the bed was empty. “It was such a good dream,” she mumbled.

  Hearing a whine, Tamara stared into a pair of chocolate-brown eyes framed by apricot-colored ears and a curly head. “Good morning, Bentley.”

  She swung her feet over the edge of the bed, finger-combed her messy black hair and wiped stray tears from her cheeks. Bentley sat ramrod straight on his dog bed, but the short pom-pom on his tail banged against the wire pen like a metronome.

  “I know, you need to go outside.” Sliding her feet into a comfy pair of old slippers, she unlatched the pen’s door. Bentley sprang to the bed and rolled onto his back, begging for a belly rub.

  Giggling, Tamara leaned over him. “Good boy!” she said and stroked the soft curls on his tummy.

  “Let me grab a cup of coffee and we’ll go outside.” She slipped her arms into a terrycloth bathrobe and shuffled down the hallway toward the kitchen. The scent of fresh coffee wafted from the coffee pot, and she felt grateful for the automatic timer. Filling her favorite mug with the hot brew, she added cream and sugar. Jeffrey gave her the mug on Mother’s Day, a month before he died just two years ago. Tamara had objected because she wasn’t a mother, but Jeff claimed that Bentley was their kid.

  Taking a deep breath to curtail more tears caused by the memory, the young widow reminded herself that she recently took important steps to begin life once again. Rubbing the short hair on the back of her neck, she announced, “I’ve got a new haircut, a new career, and I’m a business woman.”

  Bentley barked with excitement, and she laughed as he bounded toward the staircase. She followed him down the steep steps. Twisting a skeleton key in the antique lock, she swung the heavy door wide open to let him out. Chicken wire had been embedded in the door’s glass window and multiple layers of paint covered the two-inch thick wooden door.

  The carriage house was a two-story stucco structure built at the entrance to a five-acre estate. The first floor had originally been used as stables, then converted into a garage for newfangled automobiles. The street-side of the building was covered by a long shed roof meant to provide shade and protection from rain for the horses. Lots of work needed to be done on the ground level, but the main house was undergoing a complete renovation by the newest owners. They had little time and less money for improvements to the carriage house garage. The work Jeffrey and Tamara had completed to the upstairs apartment was a real bonus to the property value.

  The entrance to her upstairs apartment was situated away from the street, facing the interior of the wooded property. She had a beautiful view of California oaks and mature pines from the apartment’s dining room. Although the place was quiet, it often felt isolated. She often wondered if she should move to a more populated neighborhood in town. Was she ready to take that kind of step?

  The October morning was chilly even for Santa Barbara. Leaning against the stucco wall of the carriage house, she sipped coffee and watched Bentley perform his daily routine. He sniffed each bush, reading a wildlife newspaper of interesting scent markers, and then adding his own special odor over the top to mark his territory. Glancing back at her, he trotted to a favorite place behind a gnarled California oak and completed his duties in private.

  Watching Bentley caused memories to flood into her mind. When Jeffrey first carried the Standard Poodle puppy home in a cardboard box, he announced they had a new member of the family. Laughter at Bentley’s comical antics filled the carriage house daily.

  Their time together had been ideal…until Jeffrey died from a brain aneurism. The coroner’s report stated that he had a congenital defect in a crucial blood vessel in the brain. Even if Jeffrey had been on an operating table when the vessel burst, the most talented brain surgeon could not save him.

  Jeffrey and Tamara met at the University of California at Santa Barbara. After graduation they married and traveled the country taking odd jobs for several wonderful years, living in a travel trailer they towed behind Jeff’s truck. One day he decided it was time to return home and settle down. He applied for a job as an escrow officer and with his winning personality landed the position. The job included great medical coverage and a life insurance policy. That life insurance provided a comfortable nest egg for Tamara while she recovered from the trauma of losing him. Still, she’d rather be flat broke if she could have Jeff at her side again!

  Tamara gulped the rest of her coffee to ward off a bout of self-pity. At the age of twenty-seven, Tamara was a widow and nothing could change the fact. She felt ready to begin a new life…nearly. An invisible hole had been punched through her heart, but she must learn to ignore the hole and start living again.

  Six months ago, well-meaning friends started to set her up on blind dates, but she refused to cooperate. Tamara defiantly wore the wedding ring Jeff had put on her finger seven years before, after all, she was still married to him in her heart. The dream she had this morning was proof. Absent-mindedly she rubbed the ring with her thumb and warmth spread through her chest.

  When Tamara decided to face the world, she had enrolled in a real estate school and passed the test to get her license on the first try. She hung the license in a cute Victorian office owned by a congenial married couple. They gave her a private office and fellow agents were happy to show her the ropes.

  Last week Tamara visited a beauty shop and asked for a complete makeover—new haircut and makeup, the whole works. The beautician declared her sassy short hairstyle made Tamara look sexy and beautiful, just like Suzanne Pleshette.

  When Tamara gave her a blank look, the stylist explained that Suzanne was a beautiful actress who starred on the Bob Newhart television series. When she returned home, Tamara searched the internet for pictures of the actress. The resemblance was striking, and Tamara wondered if she might be a distant relative.

  Aunt Jessica might know, so Tamara would stop by her house on Brinkerhoff Street next week and ask. Jessica was a fountain of information and her closest relative. She was a successful business woman, who ran a shop in the middle of a neighborhood filled with antique stores.

  Bentley interrupted Tamara’s thoughts as he bounded up, wiggling his whole body with happiness. His wacky personality and playful attitude helped shrink the invisible hole, slowly but surely.

  When Jeffrey enrolled Bentley in dog obedience and agility classes, Tamara met Carra and Mike Taylor at their new dog kennel. Jeff insisted that Tamara learn how to handle the rambunctious puppy as well, so she attended the classes with them. Bentley’s idea of fun was to run through the agility course at record speed. Jeff could barely keep up and ended up gasping for breath. Tamara had so much fun watching
them work together.

  Now those same classes helped Tamara deal with her new life. This morning she dressed in tennis shoes, blue jeans, and a sweatshirt. The outfit told Bentley they were going to have fun with Carra! He quivered with excitement and issued happy little barks to make her dress quickly.

  “Easy, boy. We must both eat breakfast before we go play.” He nudged her arm with his wet nose and ran toward the kitchen. She filled a metal bowl with kibble, and added a few spoons of canned meat for flavoring. “You can’t run the course without food in your belly.” Bentley cocked his head and his fluffy ears lifted as he tried to decipher her words. He had a large vocabulary for a dog, but he always listened for his favorite words, go, car, food, cookie, and walk.

  Slipping a stretchy snood over his fluffy head and apricot-colored ears, she made sure the hair stayed away from his snout. Bentley visited the dog groomer once a month to get a puppy clip and bath, but it was important to clean his ears and feet often. “Eat up, boy.” He dug into the food while she poured herself a bowl of cereal and milk. The companions ate their breakfast quickly, both eager to enjoy a day off.

  A chime on her smartphone sounded just as she rinsed the cereal bowl in the sink. Tamara read the message and frowned. “Looks like I must attend an emergency meeting of the Board of Realtors this morning.”

  Bentley stared at the phone with an expression of dismay. Did he really understand what she said or did he react to the sound of her voice? Tamara chuckled. “Don’t worry, the meeting won’t take long. We can go to class afterwards. I’ll text Carra to let her know we’ll be a little bit late.” She tapped out a text and slipped the phone into her pants pocket.

  It was highly unusual for the Board to schedule a meeting on a Monday. Most agents worked weekends and took Mondays off, so this emergency meeting must be important. She wouldn’t change clothes for the meeting but slipped a nice suit jacket over her sweatshirt and jeans. After all, trendy Hollywood-types dressed in jeans and jackets all the time. She attached a magnetic name badge to the pocket and added a silk scarf to hide the sweatshirt.

  Bentley scampered down the stairs and sat staring up at the door. “I’m coming!” Tamara said as he issued impatient little barks. She let him out and locked the heavy door. Bentley dashed ahead and waited at the door of the green Honda Element. Tamara opened the driver’s side and unlatched the small suicide door to give her access to the back seat.

  She turned to see the dog staring into the car. “Okay, boy. Up.” Bentley was trained to wait until she gave the order, and then he vaulted inside. It looked like he levitated from the ground to the seat without any effort.

  The boxy little Honda wasn’t a fancy car, but it was perfect for her and Bentley. The vinyl flooring could be quickly cleaned before real estate clients climbed inside. The back seats folded flat against the sides if she required space for hauling furniture, but best of all, Bentley loved to watch the scenery from an elevated perch when the bench seats were locked in place. She checked his spill-proof water bowl and plastic box filled with dog cookies before she climbed inside.

  When Jeff and Tamara first arrived in Santa Barbara four years ago, they rented the top floor of this carriage house. Deep in the woods of Montecito, the place had been a real fixer-upper, so they negotiated a lower rent and agreed to renovate the apartment themselves. After scraping and painting walls, sanding and staining the floors, and sprucing up the kitchen, the apartment felt cozy and friendly.

  Driving down the winding roads into Santa Barbara took a few extra minutes, but Tamara soon reached the freeway and headed toward Goleta. The Board of Realtors held large meetings at the Elks Lodge building. The site offered ample parking and an open meeting room to accommodate crowds. Tamara rolled the front windows half-way down, tossed a dog cookie to Bentley, and made her way inside the building.

  With its engine running, a dark sedan parked across the street from the entrance to the Elks Lodge. Those who were late for the emergency meeting failed to notice a camera lens poking through the driver’s open window. As attractive women entered the building, the camera clicked rapidly.

  Within minutes the man inside the car made a phone call. “Sending you pictures now. It’s nice of them to organize a meeting for us to do our shopping. It might’ve taken days to get them pictures of the merchandise. Let me know which targets you want me to track.”

  Tamara jogged into the building and spotted other members of her office. Winding through rows of chairs, she joined her friend, Beverly, who raised an eyebrow. “Going casual today?” she asked and gestured at Tamara’s jeans.

  Tamara shrugged. “Didn’t plan on attending a meeting today. I have a dog training lesson at the kennel after we finish here. What’s up with the meeting, do you know?”

  Beverly pointed toward the obvious police presence. Several uniformed officers with guns strapped to their hips leaned against the walls. Their keen eyes scrutinized the crowd suspiciously. “I think this has to do with those kidnappings up north,” she whispered. “I heard about it last night on the news.”

  Gloria Crosby, the president of the Board of Realtors, tapped the microphone and the room settled down. “We won’t keep you long, but we have important information regarding everyone’s personal safety. Police Chief Sterling will explain.”

  Everyone recognized the uniformed officer who approached the lectern. His weathered face appeared regularly on television when something very bad happened in town. Nervous murmurs rippled through the large meeting room.

  He bent to address the microphone. “This morning the Santa Barbara Police Department received an urgent warning from investigators at the governor’s CBI office. Last weekend female real estate agents have gone missing from open houses. The first disappearance occurred in San Francisco on Thursday, another went missing in Sacramento on Saturday. Yesterday a third woman, who was holding an open house in Paso Robles, disappeared as well. The Governor’s office has classified all three cases as serial kidnappings and we might be next.”

  Muttering erupted throughout the room. Beverly’s face turned pale and her lips tightened as she reached over to grip Tamara’s hand.

  Chief Sterling called for quiet before continuing. “We must assume the serial kidnapper might be headed in our direction. Therefore, all brokers are urged to establish protective measures for female agents who hold open houses or conduct property showings until the man is caught.

  “Perhaps women should team up with male agents to protect themselves from harm. It should be noted that a dark-colored Mercedes sedan was spotted near one of the kidnapping sites. We cannot force compliance, but our department takes this threat seriously. If the perpetrator is apprehended, we will notify each office as quickly as possible.” He recited a phone number for the CBI task force before leaving the lectern.

  Gloria Crosby returned to the microphone. “The Board asks each office manager to contact agents in their office and implement a safety plan immediately. We cannot place our agents at risk. That is all for now.”

  Metal chairs rattled as agents stood and formed groups. A feeling of dread filled Tamara as she joined the agents crowded around their brokers, Jack and Mary Templeton. Everyone waited for guidance. Jack looked angry while Mary’s face was filled with fear.

  Jack announced, “Unfortunately, we have only two men versus six women agents in our office. It’s impossible to form one-on-one teams. We will meet first thing tomorrow morning to discuss ideas about a security plan. As you know, the ads for weekend open houses must be submitted to the newspaper by noon on Wednesday, therefore, we must make our plans quickly. See you all at 8:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  Mary added, “Of course we will provide sweet rolls and coffee for the meeting, so come prepared with your best suggestions.”

  As Tamara and Beverly walked out together, a broker in a navy Armani suit followed them into the parking lot. He stopped to make a phone call after taking a photo of Tamara with his smartphone. He said, “The dark-haired one looks lik
e a good prospect. Follow her but ignore the other woman. She’s too old for our buyer.”

  The man inside the blue Mercedes started the engine. “Sure thing. We got the other merchandise moved to the farmhouse this morning, so we’re good to go.”

  “Be careful, the cops might make it hard to grab this next one. The Boss wants the deal closed by next weekend.” He broke off the call just as another broker patted him on the back. He shook hands and smiled nervously at the other broker while he kept his gaze on the green Honda driving out of the parking lot.

  Chapter 2 – Agility Training

  Climbing into her car, Tamara’s hands trembled and her heart pounded. Sensing her agitation, Bentley licked her cheek as he leaned over the seat. “It’s okay, boy. Let’s go to the kennel and have some fun. We’ll think about this problem later.”

  A dark blue Mercedes followed her from the Elks Lodge, but she didn’t notice. Tamara turned on the radio and listened to a soft rock station. She drove back to Santa Barbara using the freeway. The route was so familiar that the Honda seemed to drive on autopilot in the light traffic.

  The kennel facility was located in an area of grand old homes near the Santa Barbara Mission. Most people were unaware of its existence because the building was so well insulated against sound. Carra’s dogs were also very well-behaved and their nearest neighbors appreciated the extra security of guard dogs in their block. Tamara almost felt surprised when she arrived at the gate. She turned into the driveway, stopped at the wrought iron gate, and waved a plastic keycard in front of the scanner.

  Bentley squeezed his head between the headrest of the front seat and the open window. Recognizing the scent of this place, his body wiggled with anticipation as he wagged the pompom on his tail.

  The keycard activated a motor and the decorative gates slowly rolled open. As the green Honda entered the gate, the Mercedes pulled over, stopping in a shady parking spot down the street. The man inside pressed speed dial on his phone.