The bells he had attached to the front door of Saltzman Real Estate jingled, and for a moment the sound of a passing car filtered in. Leo perked up, twisting the cap back on the oil in a hurry and setting it down on the radiator. “I’ll be right with you.” Then under his breath: “Shit. Lord of Timing, you sure do know how to screw me.”
“Hello?” a voice said. “Anybody here?”
“Yeah, I’ll be right there. One moment.” Leo stood, frantically pulling up his pants, tucking in his shirt, and buckling his belt. “Have a seat, and I’ll be right with you. There’s cold water in the bubbler if you’re thirsty. Help yourself. It’s a hot one today. Gotta stay hydrated.”
He went to the sink and washed his hands, and instead of using a paper towel, he ran them wet through his hair, the tips of his fingers pausing to inspect the growing bald spot at the back of his head. He caught himself in the mirror. His chubby round face was red and glistening, his upper lip beaded with small dewdrops of sweat. He pulled a paper towel off the sink, wiped it over his face, then adjusted his tie.
Leo was exiting the bathroom when the first signs of trouble hit him. It was what he’d been waiting for; it had just arrived at the wrong moment. Thank you, Lord of Timing. “Sorry to keep you wait—oooh. Wooobaby!” He stopped dead in his tracks, legs locking, as he stepped out into the office. A sharp pain shocked his gut, and he clutched it with two hands. Something inside shifted and gurgled. He looked across his office and saw a young man leaning over the Styrofoam model of the strip mall, hands in his pockets.
The man straightened. “You all right?”
Leo winced and rubbed his big belly. “That last cup of coffee isn’t sitting right.” He laughed nervously. “I’ll be fine. Sorry to keep you waiting.” Moving cautiously, as to not further disrupt what was happening in his bowels, he went around the desk in the middle of the room and over to the model. “You like that?”
“What is it?” the man asked.
“That’s my baby. We’re building a strip mall across town.” Leo spread his hands out as if presenting a headline. “Saltzman Village. You like the name?”
“Is it yours?”
Leo stuck out his hand. “Leo Saltzman. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Peter Martell.” The man shook his hand. It was a strong grip, but somehow delicate at the same time.
“So what can I do for you, Peter Martell?”
“George sent me over. He said you might be able to help me find a place to rent for a few weeks. I was thinking about spending a little time in town.”
Leo’s eyes turned up as he ran the name through his head. “George… Bateman? Here, let’s take a seat. I think better from a seated position.” He gestured to the desk in the middle of the room, and they went over and sat down.
“I’m not sure about his last name. He works over at Dale’s Tavern,” Peter said. “I just met him a little while ago when I stopped for lunch. I told him I was thinking about renting a place, and he suggested you. He said you handle most of the real estate rentals in town, that I should talk to you if I was interested.”
Leo nodded. “Oh sure, Georgie Bateman—don’t tell him I called him Georgie, he hates that—but he’s who you’re talking about. He owns Dale’s. His dad left it to him when he croaked. Nice guy… George, not his father. Dale Bateman was a prick. George is wrong about one thing, though.” He grinned, a smile full of big polished teeth.
“About what?”
“I handle all of the rentals in town.” Leo laughed. “Not just most.”
“So I take it I came to the right place, then?”
“That you did, Peter. Now what did you have in mind? I have a few things I can think of right off the top of my head that are available if you’re just looking for a vacation rental. That is what you said, correct—that you wanted a place for only a few weeks?”
“That’s right,” Peter said. “I was told there’s a lake around here.”
Leo leaned back, lacing his fingers over his stomach. “Uh-huh. A beautiful one. Lake Argilla. Most people call it Big Bath, though. It’s got loons… and I don’t mean crazies.” He laughed again, but stopped when another cramp twisted his insides. “Wooodoggy.” He winced, holding his side and taking thin breaths. “That was a good one.”
Peter leaned forward, a worrisome look in his eyes. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Yessir. I’m fine and dandy.” Leo forced himself to sit up straight. “Don’t you worry about old Leo. It takes a lot more than a little bellyache to derail this train.”
Peter seemed to regard Leo’s sweaty face for a moment. Then, hesitating, he went on: “I was hoping to find something on the lake if that’s doable. Something quiet.”
“Okay. Something quiet on the lake.” Leo brought a hand to his chin and started tapping his lips with his finger. “Is it just you… or do you have need for a family-sized space? You know—multiple bedrooms, a big yard, a dining room? That kind of place? I only ask because your options go way down for waterfront properties. There’s only a couple.”
Peter glanced away, then back to Leo. “It’ll only be my wife and I. I’m really just looking for somewhere to relax for a little while, maybe get some work done. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy or big. Just a place to sleep and cook dinner and maybe read a book outside and watch the sunset. That’s what I’m looking for.”
“Okay. I see,” Leo narrowed his eyes and nodded. “What kind of business are you in, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I write,” Peter said. “When I can find the words, that is.”
“A writer? Like a novelist?”
“I’ve written a couple of novels, yes.”
Leo’s generous features lit up, and he clapped his hands together in front of his chest. “I knew it. The moment I saw you, I knew there was something clever about you.”
“Is that so?” Peter said. “I didn’t know clever had a look.”
Leo raised his right hand. “Honest to God. I knew it. And I felt it in your handshake, too. I’m good at reading people that way. It’s a gift, I guess you could say. You know, I actually think I have the perfect place for you. Excuse me just one second.”
“You mind if I grab some water?” Peter looked over his shoulder at the watercooler against the wall.
“No, no, help yourself. I’ll be right back.”
Leo stood and waddled to the back of the office, hitching his khakis higher up on his wide backside as he went. He grabbed the rentals binder, then returned, stopping briefly along the way to ride out another gurgling cramp. When he sat back down, he flipped through the binder, found the listing he was looking for, and set it in front of Peter.
“There.” He tapped the page. “Take a look and let me know what you think. It’s a steal, too, at only sixty dollars a week. It’s a little small, but it’s right on the water and even has its own private dock with a rowboat. In fact, you might actually be interested to know that another writer, a real well-known famous guy, stayed in the very same place a few years back. I forget his name.” Leo started tapping his front teeth with the tips of his fingers, something he did when he was searching his memory. His wife told him it was an unsightly habit.
“Declan Wade,” Peter said, flipping through the pictures of the little lake house glued to the binder pages.
“Yeah, Declan, that’s it. I suppose Georgie already told you,” Leo said, disappointed.
“He might’ve mentioned it,” Peter said, not looking up. He studied the pictures a moment longer, then closed the binder and slid it back to Leo.
“Well, we don’t get much excitement around here, so when something does happen, everyone likes to be the one to bend an ear about it.” Leo leaned forward on his hairy forearms. “So what’d you think of the place? Is it what you’re looking for? I know it’s tough to judge from a few pictures, but I thought it’d give you the general idea and set us on the right track.”
Peter laughed, shook his head, then leaned back and crossed his
legs, running a hand over his face.
Leo’s brow furrowed. “Not quite what you had in mind? That’s all right. I have others. But if it’s only that you have some doubts about the accommodation, you have my word that the place seemed to suit Mr. Wade and his writing needs just fine. And I’d say that if you’re looking for peace and quiet, then I don’t think you’ll do any better than—”
Peter held up a hand. “I’m sorry. It’s not that. The house looks perfect, actually.”
“I guess I don’t follow. What’s the matter, then?” Leo asked.
Peter’s face darkened, and he sat forward, one elbow on the desk as if to impart a secret. “Do you ever get déjà vu, Mr. Saltzman? Like really strong déjà vu?”
“Of course,” Leo said agreeably. He didn’t know where the writer was going with this, but he went along out of sheer curiosity. “Doesn’t everybody?”
“You’ll probably think I’m crazy for saying this,” Peter went on, “but when I drove into town a couple hours ago, I felt like I’d been here before, which I’m certain I haven’t. It was the strongest spell of déjà vu I’ve ever experienced.”
Leo leaned back, hands behind his head. “Oh, I don’t think that’s strange at all. Small towns are like that. Most people grow up in a tiny place like this, then go on to live in bigger cities, live bigger lives, and often forget the places they came from. Then when they stumble into a town like Gilchrist some years later, all those buried childhood memories and feelings come creeping up at the sight of something familiar but forgotten.”
This was so much bullshit, but Leo was good at saying what he thought needed to be said to finalize a deal.
“Maybe. I don’t know. I’m sure you’re right. My imagination does have a tendency to run away with itself from time to time. It’s a hazard of the job, I suppose. But just a moment ago, when you went back to get that book to show me the house, I knew exactly what the place was going to look like before I ever laid eyes on those pictures. I knew it right down to that porch swing. I’d swear to that in a court of law. It felt like more than just simple déjà vu.” Peter pinched his temples and laughed again. “You must think I’m nuts, huh?”
Leo smiled, shaking his head and giving the look of an understanding friend. “On the contrary. I think you’re a man who needs a few weeks of vacation. Maybe what you’re feeling is fate pushing you back on track. Maybe it’s the Lord’s way of telling you to take a break before you break. Sometimes we work too hard, plain and simple.”
“I’m not a very religious man, Mr. Saltzman. But today, I’m feeling like maybe you’re on to something. Let’s do it,” Peter said, rubbing his hands on the armrests of the chair. “I just hope my wife will be happy about this when she finds out. This is kind of a surprise. It’s been a while since either of us have gotten away from it all, and I thought we could both use it.”
Leo waved a hand at Peter. “I’m sure she’ll be delighted. Once she sees that first sunset on the lake, breathes in the fresh air, you’ll have to beg her to leave when your time’s up. I’m sure of it. You want to go take a look at the property before you commit to anything? It’s only a couple miles away.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, do you? It’s not as though I’m buying the place. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
Leo didn’t argue. If the fella wanted to skip the tour, that was just fine and dandy with him. It would save some gas. “All right. A man who knows what he wants. I knew I liked you, Peter. I’ll go grab the rental agreement for you to sign, and we can get this done.”
“Sounds good,” Peter said.
Leo pushed himself up, went to a filing cabinet in the back of the office, and pulled out a fresh copy of the agreement. Five minutes later, after he’d filled in all the important specifics on the blank lines, he handed the agreement over to Peter.
“Go ahead and look that over if you’d like. When you’re ready, you can sign down the bottom there. I already filled in the date and everything else.” He pulled a pen from his breast pocket and put it down in front of Peter.
Peter picked it up, inspecting the wood body of the pen. On the side, SALTZMAN REAL ESTATE had been branded into the grain in small letters. “This is quite a pen.”
“You like it? Keep it,” Leo said with an air of casualness.
“I couldn’t. This looks expensive. What is it—oak?”
“Cherry,” Leo said, bobbing back and forth in his chair proudly. “I made it.”
Peter’s eyes widened, a frown of approval touching his lips. It was the look Leo loved to see. “Made it?”
“That’s right,” Leo said. “I lathe the bodies myself and buy the ink inserts. It’s a little hobby of mine. I have a small shop in my garage at home where I do it. Just a couple of tools and a heap of scrap wood. You don’t need much.”
“That’s impressive,” Peter said, knocking the pen against his thumb knuckle. “In that case, I have no problem keeping it. Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it. Yeah, I like to keep my hands busy.” Leo made a gesture similar to the one card dealers made in Las Vegas when they’re being changed out. “Idle hands are tools of the devil. That’s why I decided to develop the mall, too. Gotta keep busy.”
Peter signed the form. “I imagine the devil has a lot of those.”
“A lot of what?”
“Tools,” Peter answered implacably. “I’m sure he’s got a lot of tools.” He pushed the rental agreement back to Leo and pocketed his new pen. “He’s got a lot of work to do, doesn’t he?”
“Well, I wouldn’t know, Mr. Martell. I try and stay out of his affairs.”
“Of course. Ignore me. I was only being cynical. That seems to be my nature these days,” Peter said. “So when do I pay you? I’d like to get in there as soon as I can.”
“I was just going to get to that,” Leo said, his face brightening at the talk of money. “I’ll need the security deposit—that’s two hundred dollars, which you’ll get back, provided you don’t burn the place down—and the three weeks rent up front. The owners have had trouble in the past with people staying and then not paying, so they like for me to collect payment before I hand over the keys. I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all.” Peter reached inside his jacket and pulled out a checkbook. “What’s the damage?”
Leo calculated the total, and Peter cut a check for the amount. Then Leo pulled a small leather bag—almost like a shaving kit—from his desk drawer and fished out a set of keys with the address 44 Lakeman’s Lane written on a cardboard key fob. On a piece of office stationary, he wrote down directions to the house, in neat capital letters (the man had remarkable penmanship): FOLLOW MAIN ST. TO INT. OF LINEBROOK RD. LEFT ON LINEBROOK & FOLLOW ABOUT TWO MILES, OR UNTIL YOU SEE ARGILLA RD ON LEFT. LAKEMAN’S LN IS A QUARTER MILE ON RIGHT. #44. HOUSE IS NAMED SHADY COVE.
“The house has a name?”
“The owners like to do that around here. Kind of like naming a boat, I guess. Yours is Shady Cove. Here’re the keys to the castle and the directions that’ll bring you there. They pick up from this office, so as long as you remember how to get here, you’ll find Shady just fine.” He slid the keys and scrap of paper across the desk to Peter. “You can stay there tonight if you’d like. It’s yours for the next three weeks starting this moment. Just cleared out two days ago. Actually, come to think of it, you’re mighty lucky. Shady never seems to be open on this short notice. Usually books through Labor Day starting back in February. Looks like the stars aligned just right for you, my friend.”
“I guess the universe gets what the universe wants.” Peter folded the directions and put them in his pocket. Then he picked up the keys. “Is that it?”
Leo sat forward, shrugged, and tented his fingers. “That’s it. Easy, wasn’t it? No sense in making things more complicated than they need to be. You wanted something, and I had it. Basic business. Oh, and don’t forget this.” He slid Peter’s driver’s license across his desk.
�
��Basic business—I like that,” Peter said, and picked it up. “Tell that to my publisher. Thanks.”
Leo smiled and shrugged. “What can I say? I like a happy customer.” He grabbed a business card from the little holder on his desk and handed it to Peter. “This is for you. If when you get up there, you find you need something, or something’s not working properly, feel free to give me a call, and I’ll take care of it myself or send someone who can. There should be a list of numbers taped to the fridge, too: police, fire, all the important ones. And Sue Grady will stop by to tidy up for you, mow the lawn, and haul your trash away to the dump. You’ll like her. Interesting gal. Don’t try to tip her, though. She hates that, and I pay her plenty.”
“I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it. I just hope you enjoy our little town for the next few weeks,” Leo said.
They stood and walked to the front of the office together. Peter stopped to fill his cup of water at the watercooler and eyed the strip mall model again.
“Pleasure to meet you, Peter.” Leo stuck out his hand when they reached the door, and the two shook again. “Perhaps I’ll see you around town sooner than later. You know where to find me. Stop by anytime.”
“Take care, Mr. Saltzman,” Peter said, and walked out.
“Please, call me Leo.”
Over his shoulder, Peter said, “Don’t forget to keep those hands busy, Leo.”
Leo stood in the doorway a moment, his hand in his pocket, feeling the check and watching the writer walk across the street. It wasn’t a lot of money, but it was a sale, and that was all that mattered. He was smiling about that when a terrible cramp seized his gut and doubled him over.
“Sweet Moses! This is it. This is the big one.”
Gilchrist Page 4
