by Sharon Hays
He didn’t look back this time. He drove by Bishop Real Estate, where Joan was pulling into the drive when he arrived. He edged into the parking space just beside her.
“Joan, you must talk to the Priest. That house is really haunted. We have to convince the chief. I’m gonna talk to him when I leave here, but when the Priest comes, I want to be there, with or without Chief Olson.”
“What happened over there, Mario? You look like you’ve seen a ghost! You’re face is as white as a sheet! Why don’t you come in for a minute and drink some coffee?”
“There is something uncanny in that house, Joan. You’re right. I can’t explain right now, but after this morning, I am convinced we have to get someone who knows about these kinds of phenomenon, and put an end to it!”
“Father Martucci said he could meet around seven in the evening on Monday, after he finished his meeting with the local district. He will meet us at the Valencia.”
“Sounds like a plan, Joan. You know I’ll be here! I’m glad he pushed up the time, we have to get this done one way or the other, and quick.”
“Then I’ll call and confirm the appointment. Sure you don’t want to come inside and have that coffee?”
“Thanks, but I’d better go. I have a lot of paperwork to finish before tomorrow.” With that, he backed out of the parking lot and was off.
Joan made the call to Father Martucci. The meeting was scheduled as planned. She became anxiously excited about the idea of getting the house cleansed and blessed. Enough evil had already taken place inside those walls, and now it was connected to anyone who entered. She was positive this was the right thing to do. There was nothing to lose by trying, since no one had come up with a better solution.
31
It was another day in and out of the office for Joan. The real estate market had been good to her, but the work could be overwhelming. She still liked the independence of being her own boss and choosing her own hours according to convenience. She sat at her desk, opened the calendar, and prepared for a new client that was due at any moment. She printed the listings, hoping the client would choose to look at a few. The door opened, and a tall, stoic man entered the office. “Are you Mrs. Bishop?” he spoke with an English accent.
“Yes, I am. Call me Joan. I presume you are Mr. Livingston.” she smiled graciously and greeted him with a handshake.
“That is correct.” His tall, statuesque physique towered over her when she stood next to him. He was very prominent and direct when he spoke.
“I am assuming you have everything in order and that we may be able to visit some properties today.” There was no expression at all on his face. He was a typical stern and stoic English gentleman from what Joan’s keen intuition had interpreted.
“Yes, Mr. Livingston, I have a list here that we can go over first to see if any of them interest you.” She handed him the list, of which she had a duplicate. He repositioned his wire-framed glasses, and studied the addresses.
“If you have any suggestions, I would be glad to hear them,” Joan said. “Or if you prefer, I can take it from the top and answer any questions for you.”
“There are a few addresses here that I do not prefer to look at. The locations are not up to my standards. There are two that I am particularly interested in viewing, though.” He pointed out the listings, and she walked him out to her car, wondering if even her car be appropriate. His very expensive Lincoln Town Car was parked near the front entrance, a silver metallic with all the frills.
“We can take my car, if you don’t mind,” he snidely remarked.
“Oh, that’s fine, whatever you prefer. I’ll give you directions.” she replied, trying to be as helpful and cordial as possible without being too obvious.
“I am quite familiar with this town, thank you. I lived in Denver for twenty-eight years before moving here. I have lived in Boulder for eight years now, and the Heather Heights Condominiums address is not far from here, so we can go there first. I am looking for something very elegant.” He politely opened the door for Joan, and then closed it behind her. The gentleman factor certainly was apparent, she thought, as she entered his luxurious car.
“Fasten your seat belt,” he ordered Joan. She laughed to herself at his mannerisms and matter-of-fact approach, but found it refreshing, nonetheless. She had not seen the faintest glimpse of a smile yet, but with her positive attitude, she knew she could definitely bring one on soon.
He drove directly to the address, and then Joan used her code to enter the private gate. She always did her homework well in advance. As they looked through the spectacular condominium, Joan allowed him to do the talking and commenting before interrupting or offering any advice. She had already conceded to the fact that this man knew what he wanted and would ask when he wanted something. She did not want to ruffle his staunch, bristly feathers as she mentally made notes and unspoken jokes.
“I think I’m done here.” He looked at Joan with no emotional inflection. She had no clue whether he liked the property, hated it, or anything in-between. She led him out through the double doors, locked the key in the lockbox, and they were off to another address that he had chosen from her list. Back on the road again to an exclusive area called Marché Heights with the most unbelievable landscaping on the grounds, she had ever listed, right outside of Boulder City limits. Never having shown this property before, she was excited her client was interested in seeing it. It was expensive, and the area was very exclusive to the affluent. The listing had just come up two weeks ago, and she had already scheduled an open house the following week. She was always on top of new listings and regularly had open houses soon after signing.
As they drove into the entry at Marche’ Heights, Mr. Livingston, as usual, made no comments on how stunning the property was, so she quietly said, “It’s quite well kept and lovely.”
“Yes, Miss Bishop, it is quite lovely.” She was surprised that he even commented, and she felt a little more at ease.
She handed Mr. Livingston her identification, real estate card, and the name of the party who owned the property so they could pass through the security guard check, and then they came to an unbelievable villa that would astound anyone. Mr. Livingston stopped his town car and sat for a moment, looking over the beautiful landscape.
“I am impressed with this property, Mrs. Bishop. You have done well in choosing what I am accustomed to.”
“Thank you, Mr. Livingston.” All the time thinking that she had no idea what it would take make this big an impression on the stiff and stoic man she had met just two hours ago. “Are you ready to go inside?” she politely asked.
“Yes, I am. Thank you.” He stepped out and walked to her side of the car and then opened the door before she had a chance to undo her seatbelt. Chivalry really is not dead, she thought. They entered the elegant foyer to an unimaginable French provincial décor. Its beauty and particular design had enthralled her at first sight. It was perfect from front to back. She had never shown such a property in all the years of her work that was this unique. He exhibited no signs of emotion as he inspected this magnificent villa. She was hoping he would be pleased with the exceptional find, but at this point, she wasn’t going to hold her breath. He had given no prior information about the price range, and she had no idea he would be looking at something this extravagant. She was fortunate to acquire the new listing. Anything over a million dollars right now would be a fantastic sale, in this economy.
“I think that’s it for now, Mrs. Bishop. I would like to return to your office, if that is all right with you,” he remarked in a matter-of-fact manner.
“Certainly, Mr. Livingston. We can do that.” She didn’t ask any questions at this point. She locked the key in the box, and they were back at her office in half an hour. He stopped in front of her office entry. Again, he opened her door as she waited, familiar with his mannerisms by now. He followed her up the stairs into the office. She had no idea whether he would come in or even make another appointment. Heart pou
nding, she hoped he would say something positive. She was not expecting anything sudden, but he said, “I would like to make an offer on that villa, if I may.”
Joan was shocked at the sudden decision and almost didn’t know what to say. She was certainly not prepared for that quick an offer on such a high-priced property. Slightly off guard, she forced the words impulsively, trying to act as calm as possible at the same time. “Well, yes, yes, Mr. Livingston. We can set that up at any time of your choosing.”
“Right now would be fine!” His stern face seemed impatient, and she took a deep breath to calm herself down after such an impulsive and surprising decision.
“All right then. We can get started on the paperwork. I will contact the owner and make the presentation.”
Joan answered, trying not to show too much emotion, but secretly excited beyond her wildest dreams.
“Please call the owner and find out when we can meet. I am rather in a hurry to find a property and want to expedite this as quickly as possible.” His face still showed no sign of emotion. Strictly business, Joan thought.
“I will call him right now.” She looked up the number and waited for what seemed like an eternity, considering the circumstances and his impatience. It rang four times; then an answering machine came on, “You have reached Marshall Hanover, please leave a message. If it is in regards to the villa at the Marché, call 303-1256987.”
“He is not at home,” Joan said, “but I will call his cell. He insisted it would not be a problem to call at any time.” Joan was trying very hard to be calm and matter-of-fact.
Joan dialed the cell immediately. “Hello, this is Marshall Hanover. Can I help you?”
“Yes, this is Joan Bishop from Bishop Real Estate, and I would like to speak to you about a potential offer on the Marché Villa.”
“Absolutely, I am the man you are looking for. I am actually surprised you called, since we only signed the listing recently and haven’t had the open house yet. It is an amazing property, though, and I knew I’d have no trouble selling, but this is rather sudden. I am impressed, Miss Bishop,” he remarked confidently.
“My client would like to set up a meeting as soon as possible, as he is very busy and time is pertinent.” “When would your client like to meet?”
“Excuse me for a moment, and I will ask him.” She turned to Mr. Livingston, and he answered before she said anything.
“Tell the owner today would be perfect for me. As soon as he is able to come.”
“Mr. Hanover today would be perfect for my client. What time would you like to meet?”
“I can meet you in twenty minutes. I’m not far from your office, presently.”
“Well, then, we’ll meet at my office on Sycamore Drive across from Dalia’s Deli where you came to sign the listing. The address is four one four two South Sycamore.”
“I will see you in twenty minutes.” The phone clicked off and she offered a slight smile to Mr. Livingston. “The seller, Mr. Hanover, will be here in twenty minutes.”
“Good, then we can get on with it. Please prepare the offer for one million seven hundred and ninety-nine thousand.”
“I will get right on it.” Joan, working in shock mode, prepared the paperwork, and by the time Mr. Hanover arrived, it was almost complete.
Marshall Hanover showed up on time. He was a striking man of about thirty-five, with blonde hair and blue eyes. Handsome and personable, he walked into the office with a confident air. “Hello, Mrs. Bishop.”
“Mr. Hanover. This is Jonathon Livingston, my client, who is proposing this offer.”
“Hello, Mr. Hanover,” Mr. Livingston said. “I think I remember you from the Creative Arts Society event last spring at the Opera House. You gave an impressive lecture on historical Manors in Colorado. I actually spoke to you about the Aleister Crowley Mansion, if I am remembering correctly. I was especially interested in that particular Manor for a research paper I was involved in at the time. Do you remember me?” His eyes seemed to brighten up, and a half smile crossed over his face, which took Joan by surprise.
“Oh yes, Mr. Livingston, I remember now. We talked for quite a while. You had a particular interest in information pertaining to the Crowley Mansion. I remember very well. That one had a particular connection to the occult and paranormal. I did quite a bit of research on that, and on a few of the haunted castles in England and Ireland as well.”
Mr. Livingston, excited by his familiarity of the occult and paranormal research, seemed to light up with enthusiasm. “We’ll get together later on, after the business of your property is concluded. I hope you will agree to that.” He seemed very eager. Joan felt chills run through her body. The occult and paranormal rang a serious bell in her mind, since she had been dealing with the Valencia Manor. With what she just heard, it crossed her mind to speak to Marshall Hanover about it later, as well.
“Gladly! All right then. Let’s get this taken care of, Mr. Livingston,” Marshall answered Jonathon abruptly.
“Please, call me John. I insist. My friends call me John.” He stabbed unconvincingly at another smile.
“All right, then. John it is. I’m Marshall.” The handsome blonde grinned, showing impeccable teeth, and his blue eyes seemed to sparkle. Joan was in awe of his good looks.
The two men were getting along famously as they chatted and laughed after the contract was finished. Joan saw a completely different side of Mr. Livingston. Marshall Hanover was openly gay, and it had crossed her mind that possibly Mr. Livingston was either gay or bisexual. Nonetheless, his demeanor had significantly changed since he met Marshall.
When the proposal was finished, the two men left absorbed in each other’s conversation as if they had known each other forever. Joan sat in the high-backed leather chair at front of her desk, reflecting on the day’s events. It had been one of the most interesting and hopefully profitable days in years for her. It had also been pertinent to her new interest in the paranormal. She was anxious to let Mario in on the developments. Her day was almost over, so she wrapped up her paperwork and checked her watch. Five o’clock…Mario should be off soon. She would call him from home. She picked up the briefcase, checked the back door locks, set the alarm, and hurried down the stairs to her car. She was silently amused when she thought about Mr. Livingston choosing his own vehicle to view properties. She thought possibly, if this sale was a ringer, she could afford a new car, so she could escort prospective clients in style.
When she finished up, it was time to go home. On her way, she remembered Mario had told her that he lived fairly close in the neighborhood, so she drove by his place, saw his truck and decided to go inside. When she knocked on the door, before the third knock, it opened and Mario stuck his head out the door.
“What brings you to my humble abode?”
“I have some good news and some great news! What do you wanna hear first? She chuckled and walked into the house. He had just finished eating homemade burritos and she could smell the spicy aroma. They walked in the kitchen and she chided, “What, you made burritos and didn’t invite me?”
“Are you kidding? I made enough for an army. Try one?” “Half an hour ago yes, but I stopped and got a bite at Dalia’s and I’m so not hungry. If you want to make me a doggy bag, I’ll take one home for tomorrow. I totally missed lunch today, and I don’t want to repeat that mistake!”
“I’ll make you a couple to go for your lunch tomorrow, and I guarantee you will love them. So what’s the good news? I’m dying here.”
“Let’s sit down. You’re gonna love this!” Mario poured her a coffee, and they sat at his kitchen table. Mario was all ears.
“I had a listing for that amazing Marché Villa, just a mile or so outside the city. Anyway, I showed it today for the first time, and the guy made an offer on it already! One million, seven hundred and ninety-nine thousand dollars! If this deal closes, I will get a nice fat commission for around a hundred grand.”
“That’s fantastic! I wish you the best on th
at. That’s a big chunk of change for an impulsive buyer. He must know what he wants, or he is a bit eccentric to be that impulsive, especially for over a million.”
“Probably a little of both. She paused. Since I listed it myself, I’ll do much better. Not bad for a few hours of work, huh? I sure could use the money right now. I can’t tell you how excited I am, and how broke I am.”
“You don’t have to tell me Joan, it’s written all over you. Not the broke part, sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. I mean the excited part.” He chuckled. “So, what’s the other news?”
“The gentleman, who I sold the property for today, Marshall Hanover, has done some paranormal investigative work on several manors that were supposedly haunted or had something to do with the occult. I have been thinking about asking him if he is familiar with the Valencia Manor. Maybe he can shed some light on the place for us. Oh, and get this—the buyer, Mr. Livingston, is also a purveyor of the paranormal. It gets better! I think they have a sexual connection. I don’t know if you have met Marshall Hanover, but he is openly gay…I have known him for years. This Livingston character was like a stone wall until he met Marshall. He turned from a stone to putty in fifteen minutes after they met. I think I am playing cupid here, and they may have a love connection. Don’t quote me on that. Just something I observed and have a feeling about. But the real question is: can Marshall help us in the paranormal investigation if the Priest doesn’t want to or can’t?”
“That’s a lot to digest in one quick meal, Joan. You have had an interesting day! How ‘bout we put a lid on it and wait until the meeting Monday night with Father Martucci. Then we will be a little more informed. I am working on some leads to the possible location of a room below the Manor. We located a plan that had been drawn up prior to the house being constructed and it shows a few areas that we have never before come across. Maybe a hidden room or large safe. It could be some kind of panic room, or a secluded place where certain things took place that were not so popular in those day, like Séances or cult activity. Detectives are working on it now.
