“You asked me that this morning, and the answer is still the same, no!”
Osborn looked around them at the weedy yard. “What were you doing here with Miss Grant?”
“I’m her general contractor. We were looking at the house to determine if it’s worth saving.”
Osborn turned to Kathy. “Is that true?”
“Well, if I buy the house she just might be. Tori and I asked her to accompany us to check out the place. Home remodeling is Anissa’s business.”
“Yes, she mentioned as much to me this morning,” Osborn admitted. “You actually want to buy this place?”
“I might,” Kathy said defensively. “Anissa and I have to discuss the pros and cons. Now, if you’ve got all you need, I’d like to take Anissa next door and buy her a drink. She’s had a terrible day.”
“Go ahead. But how can I get in contact with you?”
“I’ll give you my cell phone number. I have to go back to Batavia tomorrow, but you can call me anytime. I always have it with me.”
He wrote down the number. “And you?” Osborn asked Anissa.
“I’m staying at my Daddy’s house up on Resort Road for the foreseeable future.” She gave him that telephone number, too.
“Come on, Anissa. Let’s go next door.”
Anissa pulled herself up, and Kathy threw an arm around her shoulder, leading her across the yard toward the bar.
Happy hour had already begun, as evidenced by the three leather-clad bikers sitting on the deck smoking cigarettes while they sipped their beers. They eyed the women as they trudged up the wooden steps, but said nothing.
Inside the bar was cool, and the music wasn’t as loud as it had been the previous night. Paul wasn’t behind the bar, but Noreen stood at one end talking to a guy in leathers and a blue bandana. Noreen raised a finger to let them know she’d be with them in a moment, and Kathy and Anissa took seats at the bar. The guy with the crew-cut Kathy had seen the night before was again nursing a beer at a nearby table, looking out over the bay. Outside of fishing, there didn’t seem to be a lot for visitors to do. That would have to change if Kathy was to be successful at running a bed and breakfast. She’d do some research to see what else was available to do in the area and make sure her customers knew about it.
“You don’t have to buy me a drink. I can pay for my own,” Anissa said.
“No, I insist,” Kathy said. “After all, I caused you an awful lot of heartache by finding that wallet.”
“Not if it helps that cop find who killed my daddy.”
Kathy doubted that. But it was puzzling. The house had been locked. Did that mean whoever got inside to dump the wallet in a mountain of trash—with the expectation that it would never be found—have the legal right to be there? Then again, what if the killer had been a former tenant with a key and hadn’t needed to get into the lock box to gain entry?
She didn’t voice the thought.
Anissa was still wiping her teary eyes when Noreen approached. “Hi, Kathy. What can I get you and your friend?”
“I’ll have a gin and tonic—and make it a double.” She looked at Anissa.
“I’ll have the same, thanks.”
“Coming right up.”
They watched in silence as Noreen made their drinks, placed thin paper napkins on the bar, and set the glasses on them. “I haven’t seen you here before,” Noreen said to Anissa. She’d hinted the night before that African-Americans weren’t her usual clientele.
“It was Anissa’s father who was found across the street at Cannon’s the other day,” Kathy explained.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Noreen said with genuine sympathy. “I considered your father a friend.”
“Thank you.”
“We were just next door. I found Mr. Jackson’s wallet inside. It had been discarded there.”
“What in the world were you doing in that wreck of a house?” Noreen asked.
“She’s thinking of buying it,” Anissa answered.
“Oh, honey, no,” Noreen said.
“It’s something to consider,” Kathy said and picked up her glass, taking a sip. Mmm. That was one fine G and T.
The door opened and Tori walked in. She was still dressed in her paint-splattered jeans and sweatshirt. “So here’s where I find you two. I saw a couple of cop cars roll up next door and went over to investigate. After he grilled me, Detective Osborn said you were over here.” She looked at their drinks. “Don’t I get one, too?”
“And another,” Kathy said, raising her hand in the air.
Noreen smiled and grabbed another glass. Tori sat down beside Anissa. “Detective Osborn told me about your father’s wallet. I hope this means they’ll soon figure out what happened.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Anissa said and sipped her drink.
Kathy decided to lighten the mood. “Tor, you’ll be happy to know that Noreen doesn’t think it’s a good idea for me to buy the house next door, either.”
“I didn’t say that,” Noreen said, setting Tori’s drink down. “Well, not exactly. I would love to have decent neighbors; people who didn’t throw rocks at the bar, trying to smash the windows; who didn’t dump their trash out the kitchen window and hope the wind will somehow get rid of it. People who didn’t use our hose to fill their toilet tanks when the town shuts off their water for nonpayment. I’d love it if someone actually fixed the place up. We’ve put a lot of money into upgrading the bar. It would be nice if the eyesore next door was either fixed up or razed.”
“Anissa is a general contractor,” Kathy said.
“Oh, yeah?” Noreen asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Not exactly,” Anissa said. “But I’m no slouch when it comes to home renovation.”
“If you’re even half as good as your father, you’d be a tremendous asset. We could certainly use more contractors around here. We used Ed Vines and had to wait months for him to fit us into his schedule for our new deck. Do you have a portfolio of work online?” Noreen asked.
“I’m in the process of putting one together,” Anissa said, which was probably stretching the truth more than a little, but Kathy was willing to cut her some slack.
They sipped their drinks.
Noreen pointed to the paint splatters on Tori’s shirt. “I saw you two working on the bait shop earlier today. Great color.”
“We’re hoping it makes the shop stand out from the water,” Kathy said.
“I’m sure it will.”
“It seems to be working. Gramps had seven customers so far, today. That’s four more than yesterday,” Tori said optimistically, “and the day isn’t over yet.”
Better, but still not nearly enough to make the shop successful. They’d have to work harder on curb appeal. The competition at the other side of the bridge got all the business from fishermen coming east. They had to make sure that Cannon’s would get all the business from anglers heading west.
“Hey, Noreen. Can I have another beer?” the biker guy called from the other end of the bar.
“Duty calls,” she said, and left them.
Anissa drained her glass. “I think I’m going to go home before I’m tempted to order another drink. And another. And another. Thanks.” She got up from the stool.
“We’ll either be down to your place later tonight or first thing in the morning to cut the grass.”
Anissa shook her head. “You don’t have to.”
“A bargain’s a bargain,” Kathy said. She got up and gave Anissa a quick hug. Tori did likewise. “See you later.”
Anissa nodded. “Thanks.”
They watched as she left the bar before they both turned back to their drinks. “I feel so sorry for her,” Tori said.
“Me, too.” They stared at their drinks. “Did you get much painting done on the shop?” Kathy asked.
“The second coat went a lot faster than the first. I’ve only got the bay side to finish and it’s done. That means I can get back to tackling the house tomorrow—maybe get some stuff set u
p for a yard sale on the weekend. It’s too late to put an ad in the weekly rag, but if I can get a few signs up along the road and list it on Craigslist, we might get a few people to stop by.”
“Then let’s cut Anissa’s grass tonight. I can finish painting the sign in the morning before I leave.”
Tori’s face fell. “I’d put it out of my mind that you were only here until tomorrow. I’m gonna miss you.”
“I can come out next week on my days off and we can do more work around the place.”
“I wish I could afford to hire Anissa to help,” Tori said wistfully.
“Maybe you can barter for her skills. She’s going to need her grass cut again next week.”
“Doing that one job isn’t equal to the work it would take to whip the compound into shape.”
“What’s your next project?” Kathy asked.
“After clearing the house? Painting it, and then maybe the boathouse—but not the same color as the shop.”
“Of course not, you want them to stand out in contrast to the shop. White is probably best for both.”
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“I’d like to take a look at the boathouse,” Kathy said. “I saw a wonderful renovation on HGTV and they were able to rent it for top buck.”
“Really?” Tori said.
Kathy nodded. “You need to think about doing anything that will bring revenue to your Cannon brand.”
“Brand,” Tori repeated and laughed. “You make us sound like Nabisco.”
“It’s a powerful brand. There’s no reason you can’t have one in this area, either. Why not rent to high- and lower-end customers?”
Tori frowned. “I never gave it a thought.”
“Well, you should.”
They finished their drinks in companionable silence before Kathy called Noreen back and settled her tab.
“Will we see you again later this evening?” she asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ll be back to stay for a few days—and probably next week, so maybe you could save me a room,” Kathy said as she and Tori rose from their seats.
“Sure thing,” Noreen said, and waved goodbye as they headed out the door.
“I’ve been thinking,” Tori began as they looked both ways before crossing the road. “That house across the road was locked when we got there. Anissa and I walked the whole perimeter. No windows were broken. Whoever got in there to hide the wallet had to have had a key.”
“That occurred to me, too,” Kathy said. “But who says the wallet hadn’t been there for months? Despite what Anissa said, the cops can’t just assume it was Mr. Jackson’s current wallet.”
They crossed the lawn heading for the house. “It didn’t seem like the police had made any headway in solving the case,” Kathy said.
“So I noticed.”
They stopped in front of the sign Kathy had already finished painting. It pleased her. “You should keep your eyes and ears open.”
Tori turned to face her. “What are you saying? That I should snoop around and try to find out who killed Michael Jackson?”
“Not at all. But, presumably, his friends and neighbors also patronize the bait shop. Everybody likes to talk about scandals. Maybe they’ll say something to your Gramps that they wouldn’t say to the police.”
“Good point. Okay, I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. But, in the meantime, I feel so bad for Anissa. She’ll never feel better about her father’s death, but she’ll at least get some kind of closure when the police solve this.”
“I feel crummy about leaving you guys tomorrow,” Kathy said.
“Hey, at least one of us is gainfully employed. I’ve got a lot to think about during the next couple of weeks. I may bend your ear so much that it’ll hurt.”
“I’m here for you,” Kathy said sincerely.
Herb rounded the corner of the bait shop, looking ornery. “Are we ever going to have supper?”
“Looks like it’s gonna be breakfast, instead,” Tori called. “I’ll get some waffles going and call you when they’re ready.”
He nodded and headed back for the shop.
“Waffles?” Kathy asked.
“Nobody’s shopped since before Grandma died. The truth is, I think they’d been living on scrambled eggs and toast for quite a while. That’s all Gramps knows how to cook. I’ll have to start introducing some healthy food back into his diet.”
Kathy grinned. “Better you than me.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Oh, damn,” Kathy said, looking down at her dress. “I forgot to stop back at my room to change clothes. We have a lot to do this evening.”
“Change and come back for waffles. I think there’s some bacon in the freezer, too.”
“I never say no to bacon. I’ll be back in a jiffy to help.”
Tori went to the house and Kathy started back across the grass for the highway and her room at The Bay Bar. She hadn’t wanted to say anything to Tori, but she’d already decided she wanted that house. It was foolish. It would be a ton of work and cost a boatload of money, but she wanted it more than the racing bike she’d coveted as a tween.
Her family would be unhappy. Tori would be unhappy, and Kathy knew there’d be days when she’d curse the idea of even looking at the place. But at that moment all she could think about was transforming that ugly duckling of a house into a beautiful swan she’d love and treasure.
Now all she had to do was buy the place. There was a tiny problem with that—how to pay for it. She had to keep her job until her inheritance came through and she hoped it would equal what her brother had received three years before.
She crossed the road and headed toward her tiny rental room. She’d never done anything so impulsive in her life—especially without a feasibility study, but her gut was telling her this was the right decision.
She just hoped she wouldn’t regret it.
CHAPTER 7
It had sounded like an easy plan to pop the lawnmower into Tori’s hatchback and head up Resort Road to the Jackson bungalow, but it had taken Tori, Kathy, and Herb to lift it in, and four bungee cords to secure it—they hoped. Tori drove like a little old lady, very slow and with her hands gripping the steering wheel for dear life, while Kathy twisted like a pretzel in her seat, keeping an eye on the mower.
At last, they pulled the car up to the edge of the lot. If there was ever a gravel driveway, it had long ago been taken over by grass and weeds. They got out of the car. “Think the two of us can get this mower out of the car?” Kathy asked.
“No. We’d better get Anissa.” But they didn’t have to move a foot, for Anissa was already heading across the weed patch toward them.
“Aw, you girls didn’t have to come out here.”
“No, but I’ll bet you’re glad we did,” Tori said and laughed. “Can you give us a hand?”
“Sure thing.”
They each grabbed a part of the mower, but it was obvious Anissa took most of the weight, and set it gently on the ground. “Who gets to run it?” she asked.
“Me,” Tori said.
“We brought along some clippers, the weed whacker, and a couple of rakes. I figured you and I could hack at the landscaping while Tori cuts the grass. We’ll have this place looking like a palace within the hour.”
“It’s going to take a new coat of paint and probably a new roof to do that, but that can happen on another day,” Anissa said. She and Kathy gathered the tools while Tori started the engine. She thought Kathy’s time estimate was optimistic, considering how high the weeds had grown, but the lot wasn’t nearly as big as the Cannon compound. They’d be finished before dark.
Tori had to cover the same ground over and over again to chop down the sturdy weeds, but after a couple of rows the yard began to resemble a lawn instead of a meadow. She looked up as she started another row and saw a woman dressed in white slacks and an orange blouse standing in the driveway of the big house on the hill, watching them work. From that distance, Tori could
n’t discern the woman’s expression, but with arms crossed over her chest, her body language conveyed impatience—or perhaps it was annoyance. Lucinda Bloomfield had been angling to buy the property and obliterate the bungalow that for years had been a visual blight next to her property.
Kathy and Anissa hacked at the overgrown bushes around the front of the house and in no time had dragged the debris to a pile at the side of the road. The front of the house was in desperate need of paint, but as Anissa had said, it could wait for another day.
Tori was still attacking the grass/weeds when Kathy and Anissa grabbed the rakes and started on the rows that Tori had already finished. She continued to cut the grass and with each new row looked up at the house on the hill where the woman stood watching. Kathy and Anissa had noticed her, too.
Once the lawn was cut, Tori pushed the mower aside and started working the weed whacker. By the time she finished with that, the others had just about finished raking and were only a step or two behind her. She found a stick to clear out the matted grass that clung to the bottom of the whacker.
“What’s going to happen to all the brush?” Tori asked.
“I’m gonna burn it,” Anissa said. “I’ll wait a few days for it to dry out, then I’ll plant some grass seed where it scorches the earth.”
“Are you allowed to burn brush?” Kathy asked, aghast. It certainly wasn’t allowed where she lived.
“Hell, I’m gonna burn my trash, too. It’s legal out here in the sticks.”
“Yeah, and lots of people do it,” Tori agreed. “But Gramps has a garbage pickup.”
They stood back to appraise their work.
“I’m astounded,” Anissa said. “What a transformation. The house almost looks like how I remember it as a kid.” She turned to face her new friends. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You just did,’ Tori said and laughed.
“Uh-oh,” Kathy muttered. Tori and Anissa turned to follow her gaze. The woman from the house on the hill approached. A rigid smile covered her mouth, and Tori got the impression it was an expression she didn’t often sport.
“Hello,” the woman called.
With Baited Breath Page 8
