“Barry could be driving a wedge between you and his dad on purpose. He might hold a grudge since I chose Dalton over him.”
“That shouldn’t make him interfere in my relationship with Roger. Perhaps it’s the sister. Whenever Roger spoke her name, his face wrinkled like a prune. She’s a bit of a snob.”
“If Roger respects you, he wouldn’t care about either of their opinions. He’s not a true friend if he doesn’t stand up for you.”
“After all the good times we’ve had, I find his distant behavior worrisome.” Anita’s voice lowered. “You don’t think he’s found someone else, do you?”
Ugh, who would want the fresser? The glutton could eat his way through a buffet faster than anyone. “I doubt it, Ma. I’d let things alone for a few days. If Roger is interested in you, he’ll call after his sister leaves.”
“Oh, yeah? Well, if he does, just watch and see if I answer the phone. How are things with you and Dalton?”
“We’re okay.” She couldn’t say more, having spotted her next customer pulling into a parking space. “I have to go back to work. I’ll talk to you later.”
She’d wanted to count inventory but didn’t get the chance to do that, either. The hours flew by until she could pack up and go home.
Brianna sat at the kitchen table, doing her homework. Marla gave her a perfunctory kiss on the forehead, asked about her day, and set about glancing through the mail. Lucky and Spooks pranced about her ankles until she stooped to pet them.
She quickly sorted the bills from the junk mail, but one address caught her eye just before she slit the envelope open.
“Hey, look,” she said to Brie. “This one came to the wrong street. I should walk it over there right now. Did you take the dogs out earlier?”
“Yes, I took them when I got home.” Brie didn’t bother to glance up, concentrating on her math problems.
“I’ll go for a quick stroll, then. This is addressed to somebody named Alfred Godwin. That doesn’t ring a bell, but he has the same house number as we do, on the next street over.”
She changed into a sweater set and slacks before swinging out the front door. The sky had cleared and a cool breeze ruffled her hair. She strode briskly, enjoying the exercise and the smell of rain-slicked grass, until she rounded the next corner.
This street had a row of one-story ranch-style homes with manicured lawns. Marla approached the residence with a similar house number. Sculpted landscaping graced the front yard, highlighted by a sago palm. The home itself was sand colored with a red barrel tile roof and hurricane-impact windows. A couple of Adirondack-style white chairs sat on the front porch.
Marla pushed the doorbell, eager to get home and start dinner.
The door flung wide. “Why, hello Marla. What can I do for you?” Angela Goodhart, the neighbor she’d met at the HOA meeting, greeted her with a broad grin.
CHAPTER SEVEN
* * *
“Here, I received your mail by mistake.” Marla extended her hand with the envelope.
“Why, thanks.” Angela took the item and scanned the front. Her forehead folded into a frown. She wore a pair of jeans and a lavender, long-sleeved blouse and minimal makeup.
“It’s addressed to somebody named Alfred,” Marla said, hoping to learn more.
Angela peered at Marla from beneath her darkened eyebrows. Wisps of golden hair floated about her face. She’d pinned her hair into a twist but tendrils had escaped, softening her look. Her lips, shaded in rose, pursed as she considered her visitor.
“I have no idea who Alfred might be, but I recognize the return address.” Angela propped a hand on her hip. “Our names must have gotten mixed up for some reason.”
Or not, Marla thought, wishing she could glimpse inside Angela’s house. Was the woman covering for someone who lived with her?
She pondered Cherry’s insinuations that Angela and Alan Krabber had a relationship that went beyond friendship. Could Angela have been cheating on her live-in boyfriend?
“I want to thank you for being friendly at the homeowners’ meeting,” Marla said. “It helped soften the blow of Alan’s words. I was stunned by his remarks. How could people elect him when his views were so inflammatory?”
Angela waved a hand in dismissal. “I told you he acts out when crossed. At any rate, you won’t have to worry about him any longer.”
Marla swallowed a gasp. How could the blonde be so callous? “I thought you two were friends. It’s horrible what happened to the man.”
“Yes, it was.” Angela’s eyes narrowed. “Alan wasn’t the only one who got riled at our meeting. I heard your husband confronted him out on the lawn.”
“Word gets around, doesn’t it?”
“Alan would have complied with the code. Mr. Vail shouldn’t have threatened him.”
“It wasn’t a threat, merely a warning. How did Alan get elected to the presidency anyway?” she said to change the subject. “Did Gene run against him?”
Angela’s face eased into a wry smile. “Nah, Gene knew he wouldn’t win. Alan’s skill was swaying folks to his point of view. That man could sweet talk you into anything.”
“So now Gene takes over as acting president?”
“That’s correct. And you can be sure he’ll take advantage of the position.”
“How so?”
“He’d like to move ahead on certain items that Alan had shelved. If you want more details, you’ll have to talk to Gene about it. I’m not a member of the Board.”
No, but you might have been close to the president when he was alive.
“Was the homeowners’ meeting the last time you saw Alan?”
“Unfortunately, yes. The poor man. I can’t believe he’s gone.”
“Do you know anyone who might have wanted to harm him?” Marla straightened her shoulders. She was getting tired of standing, but clearly Angela wasn’t going to invite her inside. Besides, she had to get home to prepare dinner.
“No, why do you say that?”
“Because the police think it wasn’t suicide.”
Angela’s face paled. “Really? When did they make this discovery?”
“Dalton’s observations told him something wasn’t right when he was called to the scene.”
“I hope they’re not relying on his assessment. He’s obviously tainted.”
Marla didn’t care for her choice of words. “You mean biased, don’t you? We both had an interest in seeing that Alan complied with city code, if that’s what you mean. But Dalton wouldn’t let personal feelings interfere in a case.”
“I would hope not. I’m praying they let Alan rest in peace.” Her gaze rose toward the heavens. “At least he won’t be here for the apocalypse.”
“Excuse me?” The drone of a lawn mower started from down the street, and Marla leaned forward to hear better.
“All of the signs are present, you know. Discord, pollution, hunger and poverty. The time is coming. Alan knew and tried to prepare us.”
Perplexed, Marla said, “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Aren’t you a believer?” A moue of disapproval crossed her face. “Oh, I forgot. Of course, you’re not. You might want to arm yourself since you’ll be left behind. It’ll be a struggle.”
“Ah, sure Angela.” Marla experienced a shiver of unease.
“That’s how the Holocaust came about, you know, but this one will involve all of humanity. No one will be left untouched. The world is in a bad place, but those who believe will be saved.”
Oh, no. Angela wasn’t about to spout religious crap like Alan, was she?
“Sorry, I thought you were more tolerant of other views.” Marla turned on her heel to go, but Angela’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“I don’t mean to sound that way,” Angela said. “I just want to help because you’re a kind person. You deserve to be forewarned.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it. Now I have to get home to fix dinner.”
She walked quickly back home, proud of
herself for doing a good deed in delivering the mail but puzzled over Angela’s attitude. The woman seemed to want to mollify her at the meeting, and yet here she’d spouted language that could be construed the same way as Krabber’s diatribe. Was she a closet bigot? Is this what she and Alan had in common?
Then where did Alfred Godwin fit in?
The cool breeze rustled leaves and whipped her hair about her face as she strode down the sidewalk. Spring poked its head up in the colorful blossoms gracing people’s lawns. Dogs barked, competing with the whirr of the mower in the distance.
Doubts crept into her mind about their relocation. Maybe she and Dalton should have bought a resale house in an older part of town. Sometimes it was easier to get a feel for the neighborhood that way than in a new development.
The garage door was open when she reached her street, and Dalton’s car was parked there. She caught him lifting grocery bags from his trunk.
“Hello,” she said, giving him a peck on the lips. “I see you went shopping.”
“We needed a few things.”
She accompanied him into the kitchen. A bouquet of fresh flowers rested on the counter. Dalton put down the bags and lifted the cut blooms.
“These are for you, sweetcakes.”
Marla grasped them in her hand and sniffed the carnations. She loved the colors, violet and purple and lavender mixed with white. “What’s the occasion?”
“There isn’t any. I just want you to know that I appreciate everything you do for us.”
Her heart swelled. “You’re so wonderful.” His thoughtful gesture warranted a lingering kiss until Brianna groaned with forbearance.
“Come on, you two, go to the bedroom. Or wait until later. I’m hungry. Are we having brisket again?”
“I froze the remainder. I defrosted some chicken cutlets for tonight. They won’t take me long to make. We’ll have them with asparagus and Israeli couscous. Dalton, will you fix the salad?” She knew he didn’t mind chopping up the vegetables. She put away the perishables that he’d bought, glad he had remembered to get more cream for their morning coffee.
“Sure, just let me get cleaned up first.”
He disappeared down the hallway while Marla tended to the flowers and then washed her hands. She glanced at Brie, whose crease lines between her eyes hadn’t erased. The teen focused on a textbook and scribbled in a notebook on the kitchen table.
“Finished with your math?”
“Yeah. I’m on Spanish. It’s harder in high school. Our teacher won’t let us speak any English.”
“You’ll learn it better that way, and your job prospects will increase if you’re bilingual.”
“That’s if I stay in South Florida.”
Marla’s heart lurched. Lord save me, I’m not ready for this discussion. It’s too early. I’ve just entered her life, and she wants to leave already?
“Why, where were you thinking of going to college?”
“I dunno.” Brianna’s ponytail swung as she tilted her head to regard Marla. “I might want to see what it’s like to live up north.”
“You have a few years to think about it.” What Marla saw was dollar signs rolling before her eyes. Nor did she imagine Dalton would be thrilled about his daughter moving so far away. With his overprotective instincts, he’d butted heads with the teen on more than one occasion, but Marla’s influence had softened his attitude.
During dinner she brought Brie and Dalton up to date on her findings. Her husband didn’t have anything new to add about Alan Krabber, but he seemed in a better mood. Maybe because he had a new case to work—a body had been found in a canal. But she knew it still irked him that he’d been removed from his regular team.
Wishing to do all she could to help him, she contacted the ladies on the garage sale list she’d received from Cherry and set a date to meet at the community center on Sunday. Marla had to get up to speed on what her predecessor had accomplished thus far.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t much. When Sunday rolled around, Marla’s heart sank as she regarded the piles of heaped clothing, bric-a-brac and housewares dumped in the clubhouse.
Oy vey, where do we start?
Once all ten ladies on her committee had filtered in, she introduced herself and requested clarification on their progress. They were glad for her leadership, having been left in the lurch when the former chair fell ill. Not a single person mentioned the association meeting, nor did anyone look down their noses at her as she’d feared. To her relief, the women were chatty and amiable. Amazed at how a young community could attract so many donations, Marla assigned a team to each category of goods and suggested ways to organize the items.
While the residents started sorting the goods, she sat down with pen and paper to work out a schedule, along with publicity for the event day.
A musty odor tickled her nose. Was it coming from the carpet or the old clothes? And why would the carpet give off an odor if it was only two years old? Was there a leak inside the clubhouse? Cherry had mentioned applying the sale’s proceeds to new floor covering.
“Marla, we really should tag everything.” Debbie Morris wove her way through the tables in Marla’s direction. The association secretary wore her strawberry blond hair in an attractive bob. “I can get the tickets if you want.”
“What do you mean?”
The petite woman stopped by Marla’s folding chair, a piece of luggage in her hand. She plopped the suitcase down and sank into the adjacent seat. Her earnest blue eyes fixed on Marla. “If you don’t offer a price, people will make low bids. We should give them an idea of how much we want. Some folks have no idea of how much to pay.”
Debbie wanted to tag each individual item? Was she nuts?
Marla scanned the room, overflowing with clothes and kitchenware and toys and sports equipment, not to mention a few containers filled with costume jewelry. Oh, and in that corner was a stack of books. They couldn’t possibly label each one.
“That would be a lot of extra work.” Work that you’re avoiding by sitting here.
“Nonetheless, I’ve run garage sales at home myself, and I always make out well. Presentation is also important. We should group like items together in a tableau setting.”
“Maybe you’d like to take charge since you have such wonderful ideas? I haven’t done a garage sale before.”
Debbie gave her a shy smile. “No, thanks. I’m not good at directing people.”
You’re doing just fine at the moment.
Marla searched for a way to take advantage of their tête-a-tête. “I feel kind of funny about holding a big sale like this right after Alan Krabber’s death. He was our president. It doesn’t seem respectful.”
Debbie’s head bent, and she tugged at her jeans. Gold flashed on her wedding band, reflected by the overhead lighting. “Poor Alan. He could be grating at times, but he had our best interests at heart. I can’t say the same for Gene.”
“The vice president?”
Debbie glanced over her shoulder and then leaned inward. “Gene had his reasons for wanting Alan to step down. Now he’ll have his way since he’s in charge.”
“What reasons might those be?”
“You’ve only been here since January. It isn’t rainy season yet, but watch out when it pours. You smell the carpet in here? That’s because the windows leak. Unfortunately, the problem isn’t limited to this building. Most of our homes are involved, and probably yours, too, even though it’s newer.”
Marla glanced at the beige Berber floor covering. “The earlier houses must have passed inspection. Are you saying they all have leaky windows? How is that possible? They’re up to code, aren’t they?”
“Oh, yes, they meet hurricane requirements, to be sure.”
“So how can water get in? Aren’t they properly sealed?”
Debbie’s mouth turned down. She wore pink lipstick that complimented her fair complexion. “Ever hear of faulty components, dear?”
Marla’s stomach somersaulted. She and D
alton had been so careful, checking for Chinese drywall and any other possible blots against the builder, but the man had come up clean.
“You’d mentioned Gene had his reasons for wanting Alan out of the way.” She realized how that sounded when Debbie blanched. “I mean, he was ready to step up and take charge.”
“Yes, because Alan’s cousin, Beamis Woodhouse, is one of the suppliers for this development. Alan was trying to get Beamis to replace the windows, but Beamis says the problem isn’t his fault. No wonder; replacements would cost a bundle of money. Gene suggested we get bids from other companies.”
“It’s better to get the guy who supplied the product to make good on his work, isn’t it? Wouldn’t this fall under our warranty from the builder if the windows are defective?”
“Not necessarily. I don’t know the technicalities, but Alan didn’t want to get the lawyers involved because of the potential cost to the association.”
“That sounds reasonable. Hopefully, Gene will be able to follow through and get the issue fixed without us going to court.”
Marla cast a glance at the area designated for linens. She hoped those donated throw pillows didn’t come with bedbugs. This being a new community, that shouldn’t be so, but people could have brought old goods with them from their prior homes.
“Hey, Debbie,” called a heavy-set dark-haired lady, “are you gonna sit there all day? We could use your help over here.”
“All right, I’m coming.” The secretary turned to Marla with a wan smile. “Our resale values will be zilch unless we get the windows replaced. Let’s hope Gene finds a solution fast.”
Marla expressed her concerns to Dalton later at the local park, where they’d gone for a walk while Brianna visited a friend. The clouds had cleared and a cool, bright day ensued. She soaked in the sunshine as she strode beside him at a brisk pace. A sweet scent tickled her nose. At least she didn’t have to worry about mosquitos this time of year.
“It could be the installation was faulty,” Dalton suggested, a scowl on his face.
11 Hanging by a Hair Page 9
