Realtors For Sale

by Diane Rapp

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’ve got Bentley to guard me. “He’s proven himself today and deserves a big dinner.”

  Paxton stroked Bentley’s curls and the poodle leaned against his thigh. “He sure did! I’m glad Carra’s training program proved successful.”

  Tamara wondered, “If he was the kidnapper, why did the Board of Realtors send out a FAX telling us he’d been captured?”

  Paxton’s jaw clenched. “Good question. We didn’t issue a report, so the FAX will be part of my investigation, starting tomorrow morning.”

  “I’d really like to help if I can,” Tamara offered. “I won’t feel comfortable holding an open house until the man is safely behind bars.”

  “We can use all the help we can get. I wouldn’t recommend any open house schedules for your entire office until we know what’s happening. Keep this invaluable dog at your side.”

  He walked Tamara to the Honda and followed her up winding roads to the carriage house where she lived. The area looked dark and wooded, normally a quiet place to live, but Paxton didn’t like the setup. He planned to assign a patrol car to check on her regularly, maybe stake out the place himself tonight.

  As he walked her to the door, he asked, “Are you okay here alone?”

  Pointing at Bentley, she said, “I’m not alone. I plan to take a nice hot bath and turn in early. Bentley will be on guard, and I know he can do the job.”

  Chapter 7 – “Hey Doggie, Doggie”

  Tamara locked the dead bolt in the front door and also turned the skeleton key in the lock under the white porcelain door knob. She slipped the key into her pocket and climbed the stairs, feeling drained. Insistently, Bentley pushed his nose under her hand and she patted the soft curls on his head.

  “You are such a clever boy. Thanks for keeping me safe today.”

  She fed Bentley and heated a hotdog wrap in the microwave for herself. While hot water filled up the claw-foot tub in the bathroom, she turned on the radio and dialed a station playing soft rock. Nibbling the hotdog inside a warm tortilla, she slipped out of her dirty clothes in the bedroom. A soft terrycloth robe hung on the back of the bedroom door, and it felt good against her chilled skin. She pushed her sore feet into a pair of floppy slippers, the ones Jeffery gave her on their last Christmas together.

  Bentley trotted down the long hallway, checking each room in the apartment. Tamara smiled at her dog on patrol as she turned off the vintage marble handles on the tub controls. Dribbling scented bath oil into the hot water, she skimmed her fingers over the surface in a lazy circle. After lighting several candles, the scent of gardenias floated through the room. She turned off the overhead light and enjoyed the flickering candlelight.

  Tamara hung the robe on a filigreed silver hook next to the light switch, removed her slippers, and eased her aching body into the soothing bathwater. Soon the hot water banished shudders rippling through her body, caused by a bone chilling fear she wouldn’t allow.

  Bentley settled in the open doorway and rested his chin on his front paws, while he remained alert. The hot water and bath oil did the trick. Soon Tamara dozed, listening to soft music drifting down the hallway.

  The rumble of Bentley’s growl alerted Tamara that something was amiss. She bolted upright and realized the bathwater had turned tepid. The sight of wrinkled fingertips made her realize she’d fallen asleep. Normally she’d simply get out of the water and head to bed.

  Tonight was different. Bentley issued a series of small woofs, and Tamara heard metal grating against the front door’s lock. Panicked, Tamara climbed out of the tub and quickly wiped her wet skin with a fluffy towel.

  Charging down the steps, Bentley’s staccato barks echoed into the apartment. Wrapping the bathrobe around her shivering body, Tamara peeked around the corner and down into the stairwell. A man’s silhouette moved in front of the chicken-wired glass of the heavy door, but she hoped two strong locks barred him from getting inside.

  “Hey, doggie, doggie!” The deep male voice chided the barking poodle. Then he shouted, “You can hide from me, Suzanne, but I promised I’d get you.” He laughed and rattled the handle of the door.

  “Bentley, come!” Tamara shouted and ran into her bedroom. She fumbled with the match and picked up firecrackers kept in a silver plate on her night stand. Tamara hated guns. The firecrackers had been Jeffrey’s idea of an alarm system. He believed that firecrackers exploding in the well of the staircase would sound like a gun. A barking dog was part two of his alarm system. Bentley had done his part, so now it was time for Tamara to act.

  The match blazed. Tamara touched the flame to the firecracker’s fuse and ran into the hallway. Bentley danced around her ankles as she reached the stairwell and tossed the lit explosive into the opening.

  BOOM!

  The sound reverberated through the stairwell into the apartment like an amplifier. She shouted, “Go away or I’ll aim for your head next time!”

  The man shouted curses…at her…and the blasted poodle, but she couldn’t see his figure through the window of the door. Rocks clattered against the Spanish tiles covering a shed roof below her bedroom window. She ran into the room and peeked through the curtain. A dark figure shook the posts supporting the shed roof and hurled a broken tile through the window.

  With shaky hands, Tamara retrieved Paxton’s card from the pocket of her jeans and punched numbers into a hardwired house phone, longing for the handy cellphone the man had smashed.

  When Paxton answered, she stuttered, “The vile m..m..man…he’s at my house…p..p...pl..lease come right away!” The phone line went dead, and Tamara sobbed into Bentley’s soft neck as she huddled on the floor.

  Max couldn’t believe she’d fired a gun at him. He never carried a piece while doing a job, didn’t want cops to add armed assault to a conviction and nail him with more time in the joint. Now he regretted the decision. Hearing her make a call, he yanked the telephone connections box off the wall.

  He worked his way around the stucco building and found a slanted roof supported by posts. If he climbed onto the roof, it would give him easy access to her bedroom windows. He turned an old barrel used for garbage upside down and climbed on it, reaching overhead to grip old tiles sitting on top of rickety rafters.

  With a mighty shove, he hefted his weight onto the shed roof and stepped tentatively into the middle of the sloping tiles. Max heard a loud crack and the roof shuddered under his weight. He groaned as a hole collapsed under his feet. His body crashed through tiles and landed with a jolt on the ground below. Broken tiles showered him, adding cuts and bruises to his already battered body.

  Hurling broken tiles against the stucco siding, he shouted, “You will die for this, Suzanne! I don’t care what our buyer wants, you will die after I kill your mangy dog in front of your eyes!”

  The sound of a roaring engine interrupted his tirade. Max recognized the fancy sports car he’d seen at this place a couple of hours ago, figured the man inside was Suzanne’s husband, Jeffrey. Max knew when it was time to split. He heard bullets ricochet off the trees as he zigzagged through the woods. Was Suzanne married to a sharp shooter? Grateful to reach the spot where he’d parked the Mercedes, he climbed inside and quietly started the engine.

  Driving slowly out of the woods, he phoned the Boss. “Well? Did you get Suzanne like you promised?”

  Max ground his teeth but answered in a calm voice. “Sorry, no. The woman is surrounded by cops now, and I can’t get close. I’ll watch her real estate office tomorrow, but we may need to move on to our next target.” He held his breath and waited for the verdict.

  “Okay. Ditch the Mercedes and pick up the van. They’ve probably got your plates, so we don’t want to risk a patrol car spotting you. If you can’t grab our first choice tomorrow, I’ll get another guy to help you with the next one. Don’t let me down again.”

  “If I can get some help with the job, we’re sure to make it work. Thanks, Boss, for understanding my problem.”

  �
�Max, we’re partners. Whatever you do reflects on me, so don’t screw up next time!” The line went dead, and Max pounded the steering wheel as he drove down the dark streets.

  He entered a parking lot outside a swanky grocery store and parked the Mercedes in the middle of its overpriced cousins. This place was full of cars that cost more than an ordinary house, but it was also the perfect place to stash this particular auto.

  Dashing into the pharmacy, he bought bandages and ointments to fix his wounds, ignoring stares as he shoved cash to the teenage clerk. Outside, he walked through the parking lot to reach a burgundy van, parked in the last row under bushy trees. He unlocked the van and climbed inside.

  After pasting bandages across his nose and around his hand, he downed a handful of aspirin with a gulp of beer. He settled on the back seat to sleep, irked about his failure but glad his nightmare was finally over. The next broad would not have any chance to get away!

  Paxton announced his arrival with screeching tires and flying gravel as his Datsun 280Z skidded into the driveway. He jumped out of the car and shouted, “Police! Move and I’ll shoot!”

  Shots rang out, and Tamara held her breath as she lay on the floor. Soon she heard a steady knock on the door and recognized Paxton’s voice. “It’s me, Tamara! I was already on my way when you called.”

  Stumbling down the stairs, she fumbled with the keys as Bentley snarled at her side. “Easy, boy. I’ve come to help!” Paxton announced through the locked door. Eventually Tamara made her fingers work properly and opened both locks. She nearly strangled Paxton as her arms wrapped around his neck.

  Bentley dashed outside and ran into the trees, tracking the scent of the hated enemy. Afraid the kidnapper would try to kill Bentley, Tamara called for him to come back. Moments later, he trotted up to the humans with a disappointed expression on his face. Tamara wept with gratitude as she hugged the dog. Bentley licked the salty tears off her cheeks and turned to stare at Paxton with an accusing expression in his dark eyes.

  “We both missed him, Bentley. I’m so sorry.” What was he doing, apologizing to a dog? Paxton guided Tamara back through the door, and waited for Bentley to enter the carriage house before he took the keys from her icy fingers to lock the door behind them. “I’ve got patrol cars coming soon, but there are too many places for him to hide in these woods.”

  Tamara smiled through bleary eyes. “You came! That’s what matters. I called and you came right away.”

  Paxton wiped tears from her cheek with his fingers. “I’ll always come when you call, I promise.”

  It was after midnight before the police finished searching the estate, and Tamara’s landlord examined the damage to the roof and window. His pale face and round eyes gave Tamara the impression her monthly rental agreement would end soon. But it was fine with her. She’d never feel safe sleeping in this place.

  “Do you have someplace you can go? Friends, a relative?” Paxton asked.

  Tamara nodded. “My aunt lives on Brinkerhoff, but it’s too late to bother her tonight. I’ll go down in the morning.”

  “Okay, but I’m staying put tonight,” Paxton announced, pacing down the hallway to look into the rooms, the same way Bentley checked earlier. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  “Nonsense!” she said, pulling blankets and pillow out of a cupboard. “I have a perfectly good guest room, decorated in a superhero motif…don’t ask.” She led him to the room next to the road and turned on the lamp.

  Paxton grinned. “Avengers! That’s perfect.” He turned but Tamara and Bentley were already gone. “I’ll see you in the morning!” he shouted. She shut her door and engaged the lock. “Don’t blame you one bit,” he muttered, rubbing his curly blond hair. “We’ve got to catch this guy soon.”

  Tamara stood on the beach, dressed in Wonder Woman pajamas, a blue terrycloth robe, and floppy slippers. She gazed longingly at the grey-blue water caressing white sand in a series of rolling waves.

  Jeffrey stood watching her for a moment before he spoke. “Hi, beautiful. What’s happening?” He had been watching events transpire but knew she needed to tell him on her own.

  Tears trickled down her smooth cheeks as she tied the belt on her robe tighter. “A vile man tried to kidnap me, but I don’t want to talk about it right now. What I want to know is why? We were so happy together, so why did God take you away from me? Am I being punished?”

  Shocked at the angry tone in her voice, Jeffrey considered how to reply. “Our happiness was a gift, my darling. Somehow I always knew I’d have a short time on Earth, and that’s one reason I made sure we experienced so many things together. God is not punishing you, believe me.”

  Tamara shrugged. “Then why did He let a vile man attack me just when I was starting to live my life again?”

  Jeffrey chuckled. “When you needed protection, God provided Bentley. He always has a plan to keep you safe from evil, and our crazy dog was preparing to be your protector from the moment he came into our lives. Don’t you remember how he guarded you while we went on walks together? Bentley always stood between you and another dog when it got too close. He’d even growl at me if I made you upset.”

  Smiling, Tamara said, “I remember last time we met here, you told me to keep Bentley near. Thanks. He’s such a brave dog, and I feel so lucky to have him at my side.”

  Jeffrey wondered if he should tell her more about what might be in store, but a roll of thunder sounded in the distance. The sky was clear and bright, so Jeffrey knew management would not allow him to reveal the future.

  Tamara yawned and Jeffrey said, “Go get some sleep now. Keep Bentley close and remember I will always love you.”

  She knew he had vanished before she raised her eyes to check. “Me, too. Put in a good word for us up there if you get a chance.”

  Chapter 8 – Protective Custody

  When a warm tongue licked the hand dangling over the edge of the rumpled twin bed, Paxton woke abruptly. Morning light filtered through Avengers curtains as he rubbed his eyes. He stared into inquisitive eyes, framed by the curly white hair and fluffy ears of a guard-poodle. Bentley proceeded to “clean” Paxton’s face excitedly while his wagging tail shook his whole body.

  “Okay!” Paxton said, “I surrender!” He sat up and stretched his arms.

  Tamara stepped into the room a moment later. “I’m so sorry, Paxton! You left the door open a crack, and Bentley nosed his way inside. He loves to open doors. If he learned to turn a knob, no door would ever stay shut.”

  Laughing, Paxton admitted, “I left it open on purpose, wanted to be sure I heard any unusual sound during the night. I didn’t expect a wake-up call from this cute guy.”

  “Come have some hot breakfast.” Beaming, she pulled Bentley away from his newest friend. Her bright smile sent waves of pleasure through Paxton’s chest.

  “If you insist! I make it a habit to accept any offer of hot food, and I see Bentley looks hungry.” He chuckled at the Wonder Woman pajamas Tamara wore under a blue terrycloth robe.

  She huffed, “What? You don’t dress like a superhero when you sleep? My niece gave me these pajamas, claimed it was a modern fashion statement. I never argue with a six-year-old and won’t tell her that I dressed like this when I was six.” She left the room.

  He quickly slipped into the pants he had worn yesterday and buttoned his shirt. Following her down the long hall, he admitted, “I have a Superman T-shirt but only use it to help me win while playing basketball. I jump higher with a big S on my chest.”

  “Bentley’s blue raincoat makes him look like Super Dog, so you’d make a great pair of crime fighters. Keep it in mind for Halloween.” Large slippers flopped against the polished wood floor as she walked ahead of him.

  Paxton admired the refurbished apartment as he peeked into the living room and followed her into the dining room. “Did your husband do all the work here?”

  Tamara groused, “Why do people give all the credit to the guy in a relationship? I worked at Jeffrey’s si
de every day, sanding floors, painting walls and trim, and pasting wallpaper. It took me weeks to get stain out from under my fingernails.”

  “Sorry, I’m just a male chauvinist pig.” He gave her a deep bow and asked, “Can I use the bathroom?”

  She pointed down the hall. “Take your pick. We have two identical bathrooms on the left side of the hallway. The carriage house once housed servants who worked in the main house, so they needed two separate bathrooms.”

  Inside the first bathroom, Paxton admired the refurbished claw-foot tub and antique brass plumbing fixtures. The wainscoting was painted white with blue flowered paper on the plaster wall above, and the original white marble tiles had been meticulously re-grouted.

  The smell of fresh coffee drew him back into the dining room. “How do you like your coffee?” she asked.

  “Black.”

  Tamara nodded and passed a stoneware mug through an opening in the kitchen wall. She said, “I fix French toast on Sundays, so hope you don’t mind.”

  “Be still my heart!” he replied and took a long sip of very good coffee. He peeked into the kitchen and noticed the vintage appliances gleamed from scrubbing and polish.

  Tamara added lots of cream and sweetener to her coffee cup. She laughed and said, “I drink coffee-flavored cream and sugar, according to my Dad.” Flipping the pieces of French toast in the frying pan, she pulled down two large white plates. Bacon sizzled in a second pan, and Bentley sat staring at her. “He’s hoping I will drop something tasty, but I’ll add a few bites to his bowl.”

  As they ate breakfast, Tamara said, “I phoned Aunt Jessica this morning, and she’s glad I plan to go stay with her. Jessica owns a shop on Brinkerhoff. She makes collectible dollhouses and shadowboxes. When I was a teenager, I worked for her during the summer and on weekends for spending money. Be warned. Jessica is an avid mystery reader and Agatha Christie is her favorite. She will grill you about the case and offer her own suggestions. If you’re not careful she’ll start running the investigation.” She smiled and sipped her coffee.