“So, she hasn’t been found yet?” Gabe asked.
Tess glanced sideways at Char, then shrugged her shoulders and said, “Not that we know of.”
“That’s, too bad,” he said, staring at them. “Hopefully, she’ll show up soon.”
“Yes,” said Tess, “hopefully.” She took in a breath and plastered on a smile. “We should probably get going. Thanks again for your time.”
“And I’ll let you know about the boxing lessons,” said Char.
The two walked out of the boxing facility and across the parking lot to the Durango.
As they got into the vehicle, Char said, “Who do you think Rachael was upset with? Max?”
“I don’t know,” said Tess as she started the vehicle and pulled out into the street. “Maybe she was upset with the jeweler, Mr. Bentley.”
“Maybe . . . Which reminds me,” said Char, “You were going to call Mr. Walker to find out who owns that building.”
“We’ll be going right by there,” said Tess. “We can just stop in and ask him.”
“Don’t you need an appointment?” said Char?”
“Nah,” said Tess. “I owe him one.”
As they drove back into town and pulled up next to the Whispering River Savings and Loan building, Char pointed to an ornate theatre across the street with a ‘For Sale’ sign in front of it and said, “The Rialto’s for sale, too? What is going on with our little town? People moving in, people moving out, buildings being sold.” She let out a lingering sigh. “I don’t do well with change.”
“I guess that’s progress for you,” said Tess as she got out of the Durango and locked it.
“Progress, schomgress,” grumbled Char.
Mr. Walker’s office was on the second floor of an old brick building, similar to the one Tess worked in. And since Char didn’t like riding in elevators, they climbed the two flights of stairs.
When the two women walked into Mr. Walker’s reception area—both a little winded from the climb—an elderly woman wearing glasses and sitting behind a desk looked up from her computer, smiled, and said, “May I help you?”
“Hi, I’m Tess Langley. Is Mr. Walker in?”
The woman shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, he isn’t. He’s out delivering some loan papers. Is there something I can help you with?”
“I just had a quick question for him.”
“Maybe I can answer it for you,” she offered.
“Possibly,” said Tess.
“Mrs. Langley? What a nice surprise. What brings you here?” The two women turned around just as Mr. Walker entered the room.
“Oh hello, Mr. Walker,” said Tess.
“Your equity loan papers haven’t been finalized yet,” he said walking up to the two women.
“Oh, I wasn’t here about my papers,” said Tess.
The banker looked at Char, smiled and said, “I’m Morgan Walker, and who might you be?”
Tess gestured to Char. “This is my friend, Charlene Dougherty. Char, this is my banker, Mr. Walker, and the person who helped me get my house.”
Char smiled and stuck her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Walker.”
“Nice meeting you, too, Ms. Dougherty,” said Mr. Walker, grasping her hand. He draped his other hand over it. “May I call you Char?” His smiled deepened, making Char blush.
“Yes, of course,” said Char.
Mr. Walker looked back at Tess. “So, what brings you here?”
“I had a quick question that I thought you might be able to answer for me,” said Tess.
“I’ll try,” he said. “C’mon into my office, but please excuse the mess. I’m right in the middle of renovating it.”
He opened his office door, allowing the ladies to go in first. His was a large office with three big windows facing the street and an en suite bathroom. The walls looked like they were in the midst of getting a facelift. Ugly painted walls were being covered up with planks of beautifully weathered old wood.
He gestured to a brown leather couch pushed up against the wall with a glass coffee table in front of it and said, “Have a seat. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?”
“Oh no, that’s okay,” said Tess.
“Are you sure?” said Mr. Walker. “I’m getting some coffee for myself.”
“Then sure,” said Tess. “We’ll have some, too.”
He leaned out the door. “Helen, would you mind bringing us some coffee? Thank you.” He closed his door then walked over to a large mahogany desk, pulled the chair out from behind it and sat down. With his hands folded on top of the desk, he said, “Now, what was your question?”
“I was wondering if you knew who owned the building Bentley’s Jewelers is in,” said Tess.
“Sure,” said Mr. Walker. “Max Dovelin owns it. Why?”
“The boyfriend of the missing woman owns that building?” said Tess.
“Missing woman?” said Mr. Walker.
“You know, Rachael Warren,” said Tess. “The woman who disappeared a couple of days ago.”
“Oh yes, I remember reading about that in the paper.” He shook his head. “Terrible thing. I hope they find her.”
“That kid owns the building?” repeated Tess.
“No, not the son,” Mr. Walker said, “Max senior owns it.” He tilted his head. “Why did you want to know?”
Tess wasn’t exactly sure why it might be important, but the book had led them to it, so she knew it had something to do with Rachael’s murder. She just didn’t know what.
“Um . . .” Tess tried to think of a reason for asking the question.
“I wanted to know,” said Char with a smile. “I was thinking of possibly opening up a small business in town, and I was looking for a space to rent.”
“What type of business do you have?” he asked her.
“Well . . . I uh . . .”
Knowing that Char wasn’t very comfortable with lying, Tess butted in and said, “Soaps. She makes soaps and lotions.”
Mr. Walker smiled. “That sounds nice.”
“Anyway,” said Tess, “we were thinking that Mr. Dovelin might have some other rentable space. Do you know how we might be able to get in touch with him?”
“I’m sure my secretary has his number,” he said just as the receptionist entered carrying a tray with three cups of coffee and a small pitcher of cream. He flashed her a charming smile. “Thank you, Helen.”
“My pleasure, Mr. Walker,” said the receptionist and then she grinned, like a school girl, up at him. “By the way, your contractor is in the lobby.”
“Oh good. Send him in.”
“Certainly, Mr. Walker.” She turned to leave.
“Oh, and would you mind getting Max Dovelin’s contact information for Mrs. Langley?”
“Not at all,” she said, still smiling, and then walked out of the office, closing the door behind her.
A moment later a large man entered Mr. Walker’s office carrying some small squares of polished stone. “Hey, boss. I’ve got those granite samples for the bathroom counter, if you want to take a look at them.” He looked over at Tess and Char. “Oh sorry, Mr. Walker. I didn’t know you had company.”
“It’s okay, Duke. C’mon in.” He gestured to the ladies. “This is Tess Langley and Charlene Dougherty.” He gestured back to the man. “This is Duke Granger my contractor.”
“Nice to meet you both,” said Duke, tipping his head slightly.
“Weren’t you in Bentley’s Jewelers this morning?” said Tess.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said. “I’m doing his remodel, too.”
“Tess just bought the old Victorian house outside of town,” said Mr. Walker.
The contractor arched his eyebrows and said, “Really? You bought that old place? Then you’re going to be needing a contractor.” He reached into the front pouch of his tool belt and pulled out a business card. He grabbed the carpenter pencil from behind his ear, jotted something down on the back of the card and handed it to her. “That’s my n
ew cell number on the back.” He slipped the pencil back behind his ear and turned to Mr. Walker. “I’ve got to go, but I’ve got more wood being delivered this afternoon. Let me know about those samples.”
“Will do, Duke,” said Mr. Walker. “Thanks.”
After the contractor left, the three chatted for a few more minutes while they drank their coffee.
As the two ladies prepared to leave, Mr. Walker stood up, pulled a card from the holder sitting on the edge of his desk and walked over to Char. He handed it to her and said, “If you need a business loan, you come talk to me. And please, call me Morgan.”
“I surely will, Morgan,” said Char, fluttering her eyelashes as she smiling up at him. “You can count on it!”
Chapter Fifteen
“You can count on it?” mimicked Tess with a scowl on her face as she unlocked the Durango and yanked open the door. “Not you, too.”
“What?” said Char, sliding into the passenger’s seat.
“Don’t you ‘what’ me, Charlene Olivia Dougherty,” said Tess, cranking the engine and putting the vehicle in drive. “You know very well what I’m talking about.” She pulled out into the street and looked over at her friend. “You were flirting with my banker!”
“He’s not your banker, and I was not flirting,” said Char with a shrug.
“You were, too.”
“Was not.”
“Charlie might think differently,” said Tess.
“You wouldn’t . . .”
“I would,” said Tess, glaring at her. She looked back at the road and grumbled. “How come I’m the only one who doesn’t get to call him Morgan?”
“Mm-mm-mm,” said Char with a slow shake of her head. “If only I were ten years younger and single.”
“Don’t you be talking about my banker that way,” said Tess.
“I told you, he’s not your banker.” Char threw her a wicked little smile. “He belongs to all of us.”
“Oh pshaw,” said Tess, with a wave of her hand. She handed the slip of paper with Mr. Dovelin’s contact information on it to Char. “Here, get your mind out of the gutter and help me look for this address.”
“Killjoy,” mumbled Char.
It turned out, Mr. Dovelin owned an office building in one of the more industrial parts of town. Tess pulled up in front of a brick building with a large sign across the front of it that said “Dovelin Enterprises” and parked.
“What do you plan on saying to him?” said Char as the two women got out of the vehicle and walked up the sidewalk to the glass front doors.
“I’m not sure,” said Tess, “but we should probably just stick with the same story we told Mr. Walker.”
Char put her hand on the door handle, ready to pull it open but stopped. She pointed to some real estate flyers taped to the front window showcasing various properties for sale. Most of them had ‘Sold’ stamped in red across the top of the listing.
“All of these properties are being listed by Dovelin Realty,” said Char.
“The man seems to have his hands into everything,” said Tess.
They entered the building and stopped at the small reception desk where a professional looking woman in a navy-blue suit with her auburn hair done up in a twist sat typing at her computer.
She looked up at them with her glossy red lips pulled into a thin line and an expression on her face that made Tess think maybe they were intruding on her time.
“May I help you?” she said, curtly.
“Yes,” said Tess, “we’re here to see Mr. Dovelin.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“No, we don’t.”
She went back to typing and without looking at them, said, “He’s a very busy man. You’ll have to make an appointment.”
“Mr. Walker from Whispering River Savings and Loan sent us over here,” said Tess.
The secretary stopped typing and looked up at them, a smile tugging at the corners of her tightened lips. “Morgan sent you?”
“Yes, Morgan Walker suggested we come over here.”
A full-on smile bloomed on her face. “Well, why didn’t you say so. Have a seat, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you,” said Tess.
“My pleasure.”
As the two walked over to a leather couch and sat down, Tess looked over at Char and muttered, “Is there no one in this town—other than me—who hasn’t fallen under that man’s spell?”
Before Char could reply, the receptionist said, “Mr. Dovelin will see you now,” and pointed to the double doors on her right.
The two walked over to the heavily varnished wooden doors, opened one and walked in. Deep, rich wood paneling with floor-to-ceiling book cases, a cherry wood desk, Remington paintings, and photos of the man—currently sitting behind the desk—posing with various celebrities indicated that Mr. Dovelin was one very wealthy and influential man.
“Absolutely not! That’s a low-ball offer. The land alone is worth twice that amount.” The man, presumably Mr. Dovelin, looked agitated as he yelled into his desk phone, his face turning a deep shade of red. He shook his finger at no one in particular and said, “You go back and tell your client that I don’t appreciate being taken advantage of. If he wants that particular property, he’s going to have to up his offer by another hundred thousand, or we have nothing further to discuss. You got that?” He slammed the phone down into its cradle, pulled a red silk pocket square from his breast pocket and dabbed at the sweat beading up above his brow. Tucking it back in his pocket, he looked up at the two women.” Sorry about that. I just hate dealing with people who think they can pull the wool over my eyes and get away with it.”
“Sorry to bother you, Mr. Dovelin. I’m Tess Langley and this is my friend, Charlene Dougherty.”
“Have a seat,” he said, gesturing to two leather chairs facing his desk. “What can I do for you?”
“Mr. Walker from Whispering River Savings and Loan sent us over here. We were interested in some rental space.”
“Ah, good man, that Mr. Walker. Always looking out for me.” He smiled, his drooping jowls stretching into rosy cheeks. “What type of property were you looking for?” He glanced back and forth several times between the two women.
Tess nudged Char causing her to say, “Oh . . . Uh, retail.”
He looked down at his computer screen, typed something on his keyboard and said, “Let’s see what I’ve got available.”
“We were interested in the space next to Bentley’s Jewelers,” said Tess.
“That’s already been rented by Mr. Bentley,” he said. “But I’m sure I can find you something else.”
“We heard that your son’s fiancé, Rachael Warren, was going to be the new tenant there,” said Tess.
That caused Mr. Dovelin to look up from his computer screen and stare at them, his face morphing into a deep scowl. “Fiancé? My son isn’t engaged, especially not to her.”
“But we heard that he proposed to her on Friday night at Trois Poules,” said Tess.
“Well, you heard wrong, Ms. Langley.”
“No,” said Tess, “I’m sure of it. The waitress at the restaurant confirmed that your son proposed to Rachael Warren there.”
The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his barrel chest. “Trust me, my son would have never asked that woman to marry him.”
“How can you be so sure?” said Tess. “The two were very much in love.”
Mr. Dovelin took in a breath and blew it out through flared nostrils. “My son only loves one thing, and I guarantee you, it’s not Rachael Warren.”
“Then what is it?” said Tess.
“My money,” said Mr. Dovelin. “And he’s smart enough to know that he’d be getting none of it if he married that woman.” He stood up, walked over to the door and opened it. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.”
Once they exited the building and walked to the vehicle, Tess said, “Well, that didn’t go so well.”
&nb
sp; “I wonder what Mr. Dovelin had against Rachael?” said Char as she opened up the passenger’s door and slid into the seat.
“I don’t know,” said Tess, sliding in behind the steering wheel. “But clearly he didn’t want Max junior marrying her.”
After leaving Mr. Dovelin’s office, the two women drove to Hannah’s house to pick up Goober. It was decided they would go to Tess’s house since that would be the most private place to go through the pop-up book and talk about what they’d learned, so far, concerning Rachael.
When Tess opened the front door, Goober ran right over to his dish that was still sitting by the fireplace and sniffed it.
“C’mon, Goobs,” said Tess. “Let’s get you something to eat.” She picked up his bowl and headed for the kitchen.
“Got anything for us to eat?” yelled Char as she walked over to the couch, set the book on the coffee table and sat down.
A few moments later, Tess came back into the living room with Goober’s bowl in one hand and a small cutting board with a box of Triscuit crackers, a wrapped chunk of cheddar cheese, and a knife in the other. She set Goober’s bowl down by the fireplace and placed the cutting board on the coffee table. “Sorry, I haven’t had a chance to go grocery shopping yet.”
“It’s okay,” said Char, opening up the crackers and putting some of them on the board. Then she sliced some of the cheese and set it next to the crackers.
While Char fixed their make-shift lunch, Tess grabbed the book and opened it up to the pop-up with the golden rings. “It seems like the guy at the Golden Gloves boxing facility was one of the last people to see Rachael Warren alive the day she died.”
Char took a bite of her cheese and crackers. “Detective Curtis said that according to the coroner, Rachael died sometime between Saturday afternoon and Saturday evening.” She handed a cheese and cracker sandwich to Tess. “I wonder what she did after she left the boxing place.”
Tess took a bite and shrugged her shoulders. “Who knows?”
Char looked down at the pop-up. “Maybe the book does.”
Tess looked at Char and then stared down at the book. She popped the rest of the snack in her mouth and slowly turned the page.
Candy Canes & Corpses Page 61
