A Hoe Lot of Trouble (17 page)

I pulled up to the curb, parking in front of a beautifully landscaped house. The house itself looked new but lived in. My sympathies went out to its owners for all the construction noise and traffic.

My eyes swept the area for a clue as to where John Dem ming might be, since the whole street was lined with trucks that said JOHN DEMMING CONSTRUCTION on their sides.

The echo of hammering drew my eyes to the shell of a house across the street.

The clay dirt beneath my feet was hard, dusty. For early May it was damn hot. The sun beat down on my face and I shaded my eyes.

I climbed the ramp that had been built to get into the house. The hammering stopped, then started again. My Tshirt stuck to my back.

"Hello?" I called out. No answer. I stepped into the house. A maze of two by twelves closed in the part of the house where I stood. Obviously the living room. The house was still in the rough-in stage. No electrical wiring ran through the two-bys.

I glanced at the stairs. They looked like someone had haphazardly nailed plywood strips to risers. I tested one, found it held my weight, and climbed another one. There was no handrail. I put the hard hat on.

The hammering stopped. I took advantage of the momentary silence. "Hello?"

"Up here," a masculine voice called out.

Inching my way up the stairs—if that's truly what they could be called—I exhaled with relief when I finally reached the top.

It didn't take long to spot the man, since there were no walls blocking my view.

"Yes?" he asked, his tone clipped.

So much for a how-do-you-do. He was a big man, tall and wide. He looked fat, but I had the feeling that it was mostly muscle under the surface. He held a claw hammer in one hand and a nail in the other. A tool belt rested on his hips, dragging down his jeans just a bit. I kept my distance; he was scary. "I'm looking for John Demming."

"He ain't here." He turned and banged a nail into a stud.

Thanks for the tip. I watched as he crossed the room. I took a step back, but he stopped at a row of boxes stacked neatly along the wall. I craned my neck. There were several cardboard boxes filled with smaller boxes. Red, green, and orange lids proclaimed contents such as drywall screws and 1/2inch nails. He reached a meaty hand in one and pulled out a handful of nails. He started hammering again.

There was a large box on the floor with a skull and crossbones stamped on its side under the name startzky's. I caught sight of some red box tops inside. Hadn't Bridget said the poison used to kill the sheep was Startzky's? Was this was the same stuff? I inched closer for a better look.

I bent to reach for a box when Big & Meaty stepped in front of me. "I said: He's. Not. Here."

"Do you know where I might find him?"

"No."

Mr. Sociable he wasn't.

"You couldn't happen to tell me what he looks like?" It would certainly make my job easier.

He sneered. Honest to God, he did.

"All-righty. Thanks for your time." If I thought the stairs were scary walking up, they were downright terrifying going down. Having no pride, I actually shimmied down on my butt.

That cardboard carton with the skull and crossbones nagged at me. How could I get in to see for sure if it was in fact rat poison if I couldn't get a box?

I suppose . . .

Nah, I couldn't.

But, really, it wouldn't be breaking and entering if the house had no doors, right?

Sure.

With that settled in my delusional mind, I felt better. But when? Nighttime was obvious, but Ana I had plans to follow Marty tonight. Maybe I could squeeze it in afterward.

I took off my hard hat and wiped the beads of sweat off my forehead with the back of my hand. I eyed the other unfinished houses on the street. There was one, on the corner, that looked promising. Landscapers were out planting a row of boxwoods in the front yard, which meant the house was almost done . . . Maybe Demming had come out to give final approval?

Instead of an unsteady wooden ramp, the almost-finished house actually had real concrete stairs leading into it.

I left the hard hat on the steps and wiped my feet before entering. Air-conditioning blasted me in the face and I
ahhed
. Gleaming hardwood covered with a sheet of plastic lined the entryway. The rooms were carpeted in an inviting green and the woodwork was amazing. I ran my hand over the banister, inhaling that new-house smell which would likely give me cancer someday.

"Nice, isn't it?"

Startled by the voice, I jumped. Looking up the stairs, I saw a man at the top, clipboard in hand. "Yes, it is."

Slowly coming down the steps, he studied me intently. "Let me introduce myself. I'm John Demming. And you look incredibly familiar to me. Do I know you?"

"I don't think so." Was it possible he'd seen one of the stories on Taken by Surprise? I ponied up a smile. "But you're just the man I was looking for." He looked oddly familiar to me too, but I couldn't place him. As far as I knew, his ads and billboards never featured him at all.

"Really?"

Shoot! I thought fast. Why? Why would I be looking for him? If I came out and admitted who I was, then he might shoo me away and I'd never get answers. But if I lied and made up some crazy story, then I wouldn't be able to ask the kind of questions that might get me some answers. Tough decision.

"I'm looking to buy a house," I fibbed.

"Then you've come to the right place. But I have to tell you, it's not necessary to meet with me. You can get any information you need from the model home at the end of the street."

"Oh." I batted my eyelashes, trying to appear incompetent. "I didn't know."

"New to the area?"

"Uh, yes. Yes, I am."

He smiled, putting his hand on my arm. "I think you'll find ever
ything yo
u need in a Demming home."

The flirt! I couldn't believe it. "Really?"

"Quality workmanship," he said with pride. Then he lowered his voice a notch, and said, "Years of experience."

I nearly choked on the laughter I held in. He was actually rather cute in a grandfatherly, Bob Barker kind of way, if you liked that type, which I didn't. Demming's dark hair had grayed at the temples, his blue eyes looked to have lost some luster over the years.

"Let me show you around," he said.

I poured it on. "Sure, I'd love that." I managed not to cringe as he put his hand on the small of my back. "Do you build much around here?"

"About seventy percent of the new development."

"Isn't that a lot?"

He smiled. "I'm the best there is."

I giggled demurely. It was tough but I managed. He showed me the living room, dining room and den, pointing out all the selling features I might be interested in.

"This development looks nearly completed," I said as he finished his tour.

"All the houses in this particular area have been sold. But I have new areas just beginning and some still in the design phase."

"Oh yeah?"

"Sure. People are selling their farms left and right. There's tons of land to be had around here—for the right price."

"A farm? That couldn't be too expensive."

"You'd be surprised."

"Come now." I set the bait, hoping he'd take it. "I drove past a farm on Millson coming here that was so beat up, a strong breeze could knock it down."

He laughed. "If it's the farm I'm thinking about, the price tag is in the seven figures."

Men were suckers for women who batted their eyelashes, I decided. He stepped right up to my bait without even thinking twice.

I widened my eyes, hoping I looked shocked. "That thing? It was nothing but some old bricks stuck together and some land that looked like it hadn't been tended to in years."

"It's not the house or the quality of the land."

"What else is there?"

"Location."

"It didn't seem all that appealing to me. Off the main street like that and all." I batted my eyelashes again. He led me into the living room and we sat on the hearth in front of a marble fireplace.

He put his hand on my knee. No wedding ring.
Gulp
. Did that mean he was married and just didn't wear a ring, or was he really single? No, he couldn't be single. His secretary played right into my little trap. She'd know if he were single. Wouldn't she? Then I remembered how ditzy she was. Anything was possible. She gave brunettes a bad name.

"Imagine that farm gone, that land razed and paved. A four lane road."

"Okay." I made a point of squeezing my eyes shut.

"Now imagine that land with developments on one side, businesses on the other."

"Umm-hmmm," I murmured.

"The development just isn't any ordinary development. Because it butts up against Vista View, it has the same types of houses."

"Vista View?" I said, playing dumb. I thought I played it quite well, actually. I was proud of myself. Ana would be dying of laughter if she could see me now.

"It's a very affluent neighborhood. Million-dollar homes."

I opened my eyes and oohed. "So you plan to copy it?"

"Darn right. I'll make many, many millions." There was a greedy gleam in his eye.

"So did you buy the farm?"

"Not yet."

"Why not?" I asked. "It sounds to me like it's a pot of gold. Others must have looked at it too."

"Won't do them any good." He slid his hand from my knee up to my thigh, squeezing.

Eww. He seemed to like my attention, though, so I forced a smile on my face. Actually, he seemed the type that would like anyone's attention. "Why not?"

"The owner won't sell."

"Not for seven figures?"

He shook his head. "But I'm working on it."

What to eat for supper? I was not in the least looking forward to dinner with Kevin. Just how was Riley going to take the news of our divorce? He had enough to worry about without adding a divorce to his problems, namely his school skipping and his association with the Skinz. It was enough to make a stepmother have an anxiety attack.

Needing to call Bridget, I dialed her work number. The secretary told me Bridget had gone home for the day, not feeling well.

I called her there, but a busy signal buzzed my ear.

Searching the cabinets for something to make for dinner, I came up empty. Pizzas were in order. Pepperoni. Kevin hated pepperoni.

I tried Bridget again. She answered on the second ring.

"Sorry about the busy signal," she said, sounding harried. "I was doing some online research—I didn't know my cell was off. What's new?"

I filled her in on Demming and finding the rat poison. She didn't seem all that surprised.

"In the back of my mind, I knew a developer had to be behind this. It's the only thing that makes sense."

"I'll need to get a box of that rat poison to be sure it was the same kind."

"And how do you plan on doing that?"

Tim's voice carried over the line from the background. "Doing what?"

Bridget shushed him. "Go ahead," she said to me.

"I'm going to go back to that house tonight, borrow a box."

"What?! No, you can't. It's illegal."

"It's completely open over there, Bridget. No harm will come of it."

She sighed. "Just be careful."

"I will."

I hung up, feeling as though I was finally getting somewhere, and it felt good.

Unfortunately, Kevin was due any minute now and I didn't know what on earth to do about him.

"Nina Colette Ceceri!"

My mother's voice could portray many things. When she was excited, it rose steadily till it was as shrill as a highpitched whistle. When she was tired, it was a dull, plain monotone. When she was mad, it dropped an octave and she could easily sing baritone in a barbershop quartet. And when she felt pity, her voice was mellifluous, as gentle as a song caught on a breeze. That's what it was now.

"Finally." She opened her arms.

"Finally what?" I mumbled, my body pressed into her giant breasts—breasts that must have skipped a generation in my family. No, that wasn't true. They hadn't missed Maria. Just
me
.

"You kicked him out."

"What?" She couldn't have known. There was no way, enhanced mother's intuition or not.

She
tsk-tsked
. "It's about time."

"How on earth—"

She covered my lips with a perfectly manicured finger. "Shh. No need to explain to Ma-ma. I understand."

I had planned on taking her aside and having a nice peaceful discussion on the state of my marriage, or lack of. Now my defenses were raised. How did she know? I had even slipped my wedding band back on.

"What was it? Was he cheating?"

"I thought I didn't have to explain. You
understood
. Besides, can't you whip out your crystal ball and see for yourself?"

"Posh. You know only Uncle Guido has the sight."

I wasn't so sure.

"I wouldn't be surprised at all if he was cheating. I can always spot a man with lust in his heart, and your Kevin was definitely one of those men."

"Thanks for warning me."

"Would you have listened?"

Probably not.

She set the teapot on the stove and lit the gas burner. "Does Riley know?"

"We told him tonight."

"Oh, my Riley. The poor thing must be heartbroken."

"He took it rather well, in fact." I smiled.

"What's that smile?"

"Riley. Kevin had barely walked in the door before Ry was giving him what for. Out and out told Kevin that he was staying with me, that he wasn't packing up and leaving home again." To say Kevin had been shocked would be an understatement. Come to think of it, it had taken a full five minutes to raise my jaw from the floor. Riley's statement had certainly taken the wind out of my he's-gonna-thinkyou're-deserting-him sails. Kevin barely had a chance to open his mouth between hello and good-bye. Not even time for pizza.