"She's only fifteen, Cin." Greg shook his head as he watched his daughter board the bus wearing tight designer jeans, flip flops, and a flimsy tank top. At my insistence, she carried a sweater, but I knew she wouldn't wear it. "What kind of father lets his daughter go to school looking like a common prostitute?"
"She doesn't look like one of those, and please don't say that." I turned around to see the twins at the kitchen table pouring Cheerios into bowls until they ran over onto the floor. Rusty lay at their feet, gorging himself on cereal.
I handed Greg his lunch. "What can I do? She refuses to listen to me, and all the girls wear that stuff these days."
"What's a prostitute?" Stevie asked.
"Remember that episode of The Sopranos we saw?" Seth glanced over at his twin. "You know, when Tony meets a lady in the bar?"
My mouth dropped open, and I exchanged a glance with Greg. "You guys are forbidden to watch that show. Period. You're way too young."
"Aw, Mom," Seth said. "I'm really mature for my age."
Stevie nodded. "Yeah. Me too. I think. What's mature again?"
Greg sighed heavily. "Okay, guys, go upstairs and get dressed. Your bus will be here soon."
"Are you and Mom going to yell at each other again?" Stevie asked.
Greg's face reddened. "Now."
"Guess so," Seth mumbled as he and Stevie hopped off their chairs. They ran out of the kitchen and could be heard clattering up the stairs.
I got a broom and started to sweep up the mess from the floor, much to Rusty's chagrin.
Greg brought his briefcase in from the den. He waited until I finished sweeping and pulled me into his arms. "Are you feeling okay?"
I smiled reassuringly. "I'm fine. Thanks to you."
He pursed his lips together. "Cin, what happens if that jerk wants to buy one of those houses you showed him? How will you deal with that?"
"I doubt he's going to be calling me. Not after what I did to him."
Greg grinned and kissed me tenderly. "No one messes around with my girl. I never knew what a great hook you had."
"More like, what a great knee," I teased.
Greg laughed as he released me and picked his jacket up from the chair. "Later, baby. Call me after your meeting."
"I will. Love you."
"Love you too. Good luck today."
"Thanks. I have a feeling I'll need it."
* * *
As I pulled into the parking lot of Hospitable Homes, I realized the last time I'd been in the building was when I'd discovered Tiffany's lifeless body. I turned off the engine and sat motionless behind the wheel. I was nervous about seeing Donna. How was I supposed to tell my boss she was married to a sleaze? It was doubtful she'd believe me, so why even put myself through the grief?
I'd just restarted the motor when a sharp tap sounded on my window. I glanced around, startled.
Jacques motioned for me to roll the window down, and I obliged. "Don't even think about it."
"Come on. I can't go in there."
"Yes, you can. Just put one foot in front of the other."
I groaned as I turned off the motor again. "What's the point? She's going to fire me no matter what."
"You still need to collect your check from the closing later." Jacques extended his hand to help me out of the vehicle. "Plus, it looks better if you're here."
"I know, I know, so you keep telling me. We don't want them to think I have anything to hide."
Jacques hooked his arm through mine. "I won't leave your side, I swear."
"Well, I need to use the bathroom, so there goes that theory. I'll meet you in the conference room."
"Hurry up, honey, your macchiato's getting cold."
I could've kissed him. Instead, I went upstairs, flashbacks of the last time I'd been here haunting me. Tiffany's office door was shut, with crime scene tape still stretched across the front. Her murder wasn't a bad dream as I'd been trying to pretend. I wondered if the blood had been cleaned up or if it was still all over the floor. My stomach rumbled, but not from hunger, and I barely made it to the bathroom in time.
I was washing my face when I heard a tap on the door. I opened it a crack, barely enough to see who was out there.
"Cindy, are you okay?" Jacques looked alarmed when he saw my face. "Holy cow, did you get sick?"
I nodded, too weak to say anything.
Jacques put his arm around me and led me down the stairs. "Cripes. For someone who's given birth to three kids, you've got the weakest stomach of anybody I know. You must have spent your entire pregnancies in the bathroom."
"You have no idea."
"Try to hold it together, girl. This is important. And for God's sake, don't faint when you see Donna."
"I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything."
"Yeah, I know your track record."
Everyone else had already gathered in the large conference room downstairs. It was a comfortable room, with wood-grain paneling and plush, beige carpeting, which we used primarily for the weekly office go-around and private client meetings. Donna also brought agents in there for performance evaluations, another occasion I always dreaded. Since mine was already past due, it seemed safe to say I probably wouldn't have to endure another one.
If there was a guest for the meeting, such as a mortgage broker or motivational speaker, they would be seated at the head of the mahogany table. Today the spot was occupied by Donna. I tried to walk in inconspicuously, but everyone stopped what they were doing to gawk at me.
I purposely sank into a chair at the back of the room. Jacques appeared a minute later with my macchiato and a can of ginger ale. He sat down next to me and handed me the soda.
"What would I do without you?" I squeezed his hand tightly.
Jacques whispered in my ear. "Something's up. She's acting like you're not even here. Do you think Mr. Libido told her what happened?"
"I doubt it. Would you tell Ed if you made a pass at someone?"
"Point well taken." He sat back in his chair.
When Donna cleared her throat, we stopped talking. She didn't mention Tiffany or the murder and immediately turned her full attention to Jacques. "Where are we with the Goldman deal?"
He stared calmly back at her. "The bank issued the approval letter yesterday. I expect to hear about a closing sometime next week."
Donna placed her hands on her hips. "Excellent. That sale was almost a million, wasn't it?"
"Yes. The sellers were anxious to relocate, and the price is still above market value. They granted a seller's concession to the buyers as well, which will save them some money, so I think it worked out well for all involved," Jacques said quietly.
I gazed at my friend in admiration. The man made the real estate game look so damned easy.
Donna smiled at the rest of us. "Well, I'm glad to hear someone is actually bringing in money. Does anyone else have news to report?"
I raised my hand. "I have a closing today on—"
"Yes, Bill?" She didn't even glance in my direction.
Jacques rolled his eyes at me. Oh boy. Maybe Ken did tell her. I wouldn't put anything past the woman or her slimeball of a husband. I glanced at the clock and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. Please let this be over soon.
"I-I have an appointment this afternoon to list an a-apartment complex over on Vista Lane," Bill replied.
Donna looked like a cat waiting to pounce on a mouse. "And what are you planning to list it for?"
Bill shrugged, clearly uneasy under her scrutiny. "Well, I, uh—"
"How many units are in the building? Is there oil heat or gas? What's the number of bedrooms?"
Bill took off his glasses and polished them nervously. In desperation, he turned to Jacques for help.
Jacques cleared his throat. "Bill asked me to take a look at the building with him. It's in pretty good shape overall. The foundation might have some cracks in it. I have a friend who's a mason, and he's willing to check it out free of charge. If all goes well, I'
m guessing Bill could put it on the market for half a million or so."
Donna made a face. "That's all?"
She was obviously disappointed. Note to self. Do not mention your insignificant, chump-change closing unless you want to be laughed at.
"I-I'm sorry, Donna," Bill stuttered. "I'll try to do better next time."
"See that you do."
Jacques pursed his lips. "Now wait just a minute."
Everyone looked at him and then turned back toward Donna to gauge her reaction.
"What is it, Jacques?" Donna's voice took on an acid tone.
"Bill's only been here for a few months. He's doing his best. I know you want us to pick up the slack now that—well, Tiffany's gone, and we're all trying. It's not going to help to belittle anyone though."
Donna's face turned a bright shade of red. "I'd like to speak with you in private after the meeting."
Jacques didn't even flinch. "My pleasure."
"Does anyone have anything else to report?" Donna's eyes glittered as she rapped a pencil on the table. "We need sales, people. Start pounding the pavement!"
Jacques waved his hand. "Oh, I did forget to mention one thing."
Bill stood. "I really have to get going since I have a—"
"Sit." Donna spoke sharply, as if addressing a dog. Bill reluctantly obeyed. "Yes, Jacques?"
"You asked me to reach out to Mrs. Hunter, who'd signed a listing with Tiffany earlier in the week."
I gaped at him. Jacques knew that was my listing. Where was this going?
He crossed one leg over the other. "Mrs. Hunter was only too happy to void the contract and indicated she'd like to re-list the house with Cindy, who rightfully should have had it in the first place."
Everyone murmured their approval while I smiled at Jacques gratefully. He winked in return.
Donna concentrated on shuffling some papers in front of her. "Well, that's fine. Of course, the place does need a lot of work and won't fetch much money. It's really a waste for us to spend a lot of time and resources on her account. I do hope you understand that. I think I need to give this some further thought and decide whether or not it's in our best interest to pursue this listing."
I didn't know if she was speaking to me or Jacques. It was difficult to tell since she refused to make eye contact with either one of us. Not that it really mattered anyway. I wasn't surprised she would pull something like this.
Jacques tapped his pen against the side of my chair. "A sale is a sale."
Donna slammed her notebook shut. "If you think it's so easy to run this agency, perhaps you'd like to give it a try."
"Thank you very much, but I have other plans."
Her mouth fell open in surprise. She couldn't afford to lose Jacques in addition to Tiffany and certainly wasn't dumb enough to engage him in a heated public argument. "Let's talk about this later. I'm sure we can work something out."
"Of course." He gave a slight nod.
I was intrigued. Jacques had his broker's license and had dreamed of opening his own agency for years, but I thought that was still a way off. This place would never survive without him. It was definitely time for me to abandon ship.
"And now, everyone, I've saved the most important part for last." Donna folded her hands together.
Here it comes.
"Please join me in praying for our dearly departed coworker, Tiffany Roberts, who suddenly left the world three days ago." She glanced around at all of us. "Bow your heads."
We all looked helplessly at one another, then stared back at Donna, puzzled.
"Now."
With no choice but to oblige, I bowed my head.
"May God protect and welcome her into His pearly-white gates," Donna breathed.
Jacques kicked me under the chair. When I dared to open my eyes and steal a glance at him, he was shaking his head in disbelief.
"We'll all miss her so." Donna's touching speech ended with a sob.
At that very moment, Linda Earl, our receptionist, started to giggle. Jacques had a smile forming at the corners of his mouth while everyone else kept their heads bowed.
Donna's nostrils flared. "Is there something funny?"
Linda stopped laughing immediately, her dark eyes wide with alarm, and had the decency to appear embarrassed. "Oh, no. I'm sorry for interrupting the prayer. I couldn't help thinking that—"
"You thought today? Well, there's a start." Donna wrinkled her nose.
My jaw dropped at the rude remark. In her mid-twenties, Linda was a very attractive brunette with enormous, brown eyes and a killer figure. She was a little slow on the uptake some days, and we all knew that Donna had only hired her to attract more business. Linda's face was also featured on the home page of the company's website. She was definitely not here for her business skills.
Linda's face turned crimson, the remark not lost on even her. "I know this sounds bad, but she wasn't exactly a nice person. No one liked her."
Bill clenched his fists. "That's true." I was surprised that he dared to speak again. "I did-did an open house for her last week, and she was supposed to g-give me all the leads. When I went to-to call people on the sign-in sheet, I couldn't find it. That lit-little witch had stolen it right off my desk."
Everyone, except Donna, clucked their tongues at this new bit of information while Jacques kept his head down so that no one but me could see him smiling. I found myself wondering if Tiffany would have done the same thing to me if I'd had any good leads at her open house. Actually, there was no doubt in my mind.
Linda tossed her hair. "I've seen her do worse. Monday night we both left the office at the same time. My car wouldn't start, so I went to ask her for a ride. I knocked on her window, but she pretended she didn't hear or see me. She almost drove right over my foot."
"Horrid," said Ariel Jones, an African-American woman a few years older than myself. She'd been with the agency about the same length of time as me. "That's what she was—horrid. I found her going through my desk last week. When I asked what she was doing, she said she needed a tissue, even though there was a box right on top of my desk. She stole my lead sheet. As far as I'm concerned, that wench got what she deserved."
"It's karma." Bill glanced around the room, as if for approval. "Wh-what goes around, comes around."
The others nodded in agreement as Donna rose to her feet, trembling with fury. She slammed her fist on the table and everyone jumped. "You should all be ashamed of yourselves. Tiffany was the bread and butter of this organization. She could outsell all of you every month."
Jacques folded his arms across his chest. "Because she stole everyone's listings. She was dishonest and despicable. I know it's wrong to speak ill of the dead, but come on, Donna. Don't act like she was a saint. Look what she did to Cindy, for cripes' sake."
Oh no. Not a good thing to say. I had a sudden impulse to crawl under the table.
As Donna finally met my gaze, a sudden gleam came into her eyes. She placed both hands on her hips and thrust her chest forward. "Speaking of Cindy, I have the question of the day for her."
I forced my eyes to meet hers. "I hate to disappoint you, Donna, but I did not kill Tiffany."
"She had every right to though." Bill nodded in approval. "How many listings and clients did sh-she steal from you, Cindy? It's probably more than she took fr-from the rest of us combined."
"Tiffany treated me like her personal secretary," Linda interrupted. "If I didn't write a detailed message of who called and when, she got really ticked off." She glanced at me. "No one would have blamed you if you'd killed her, Cindy. Heck, I thought about it myself sometimes. Especially the other night."
"Oh, honey, who didn't?" Ariel asked.
Linda grinned. "Hey, it's too bad we didn't all plan to do it together. We could have had a drink to celebrate afterward."
The others laughed until Donna gasped out loud. "That's enough!"
The room went deadly silent as Donna's unwavering gaze remained fixed on me. "Thank you for cle
aring that up, Mrs. York, but I wasn't referring to the murder."
"I don't understand." What was she getting at?
Her smile twisted until she reminded me of the Cheshire cat. "Why were you at Tiffany's house yesterday? Your eKEY code showed up in my email this morning."
My jaw dropped so low that I thought it must have hit the floor. "Her-her house?"
Donna looked victorious as she watched me squirm like a fly trapped in a spider web. "Yes, Cindy, you were at Tiffany's house. The address is 55 Riverview Drive. It's a Tudor style home that came on the market last week. Does it sound familiar?"
All eyes in the room turned toward me. No one was laughing now.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I sat in my office, arms wrapped around my knees, rocking myself back and forth like a frightened child. Jacques had gone to get me a glass of water in the hope that my shallow breathing would return to normal.
Although startled, I had tried to explain to Donna why I had been at Tiffany's house, but she'd refused to listen. She'd immediately dismissed everyone from the room and had left the building herself seconds later. I, in turn, had started to feel sick again and made a mad dash for the bathroom, but this time it was a false alarm.
Jacques shut my door so that our conversation couldn't be overheard. He held the cup of water out to me. "Drink this, dear."
My words came out a whisper. "Thank you."
"My God, love, your lips are blue." Jacques reached for the sweater on the back of my chair and draped it around my shoulders. "Do you want me to call Greg?"
I took a sip. Greg. "Damn it. I was supposed to call him after the meeting. He wanted to go to the police station with me about the notes I received."
Jacques arched his eyebrows. "I thought it was only a picture. They left you a note too?"
I nodded and took another sip.
His face took on a worried expression "Greg's right. You do have to go to the police."
"Not after this. How do I explain why I was in her house? What am I going to do?"
"It doesn't look good, that's true." Suddenly, he snapped his fingers. "Wait a second. What about Cool Hand Ken? Would he be willing to tell the police he's the one who wanted to see the house? And all you did was arrange the showing for him?"
Killer Transaction (Cindy York Mysteries Book 1) Page 11
