DEATH COMES TO AN OPEN HOUSE (8 page)

“I’ll be here. It’s better being with people.”

“I’ll come with her any time she needs me,” Rita assured Ed. “And Jean is staying with me for a while.”

Rita waited only a fraction of a second to see if Ed had anything more before asking, “So you got nothing new from the police?”

“Uh …” Ed was switching mental gears. “You all probably covered most of it Sunday night. I heard you did a lot of phoning.”

“Anything you know we don’t? Anyone in the office have a motive?”

Ed smiled. That was reassuring. It didn’t look as though anyone did.

“Only me,” he said. “Theresa’s current contracts now belong to me, but I’ve lost all she would have earned the office in the future. Not much of a motive there.”

“Maybe we don’t know the motive yet,” Rita persisted. “You got any ideas?”

Ed looked from one to the other.

“You two playing detective?”

Jean was embarrassed. Rita wasn’t.

“If one of us killed her, I want to know,” she said. “Hua saw Theresa using the letter opener Saturday morning. So it was taken after then. Seems like it has to be one of us.”

Ed smiled.

“It wasn’t.”

“So where was everyone? Reassure me, boss.”

Rita put a laugh into the request.

Ed put his hands behind his head, tilted his chair back and stared into space.

“Stan was at his open house—”

“Any proof of that? He says no one came after you left.”

“I really don’t know about proof. Not much of that at an empty open house. Kevin—”

“Talked to Kevin. Went home to watch the baseball game. Alone. No proof there, either.”

“He’s feeling guilty.” Ed’s voice became more positive. “As he should!”

Rita gave Ed a moment to digest his anger before asking, “Harold?”

“Harold? Harold was with Jean.” Ed looked at one, then the other, realizing they would have covered this. “He wasn’t?”

“He could have gone out,” Jean said, wondering why she felt apologetic.

Ed’s chair slammed against the floor as he sat up.

“He left you? What the hell? Didn’t either of those two take my orders seriously?”

Jean felt the need to defend Harold.

“I don’t know he went out. I just didn’t see him. Anyway, I was with buyers. I was safe.”

Ed’s face became redder as he shook his head.

“Not good enough! Your buyers could have gone. And look what happened to Theresa!”

The phone rang again. Two little green lights were lit, so Ed picked up the receiver, listened until he heard Harold answer and put it back.

“So then, of course, there’s us,” Rita said. “And you and Vivian.”

“Vivian?”

That surprised him.

“She had a key to the office, too. Any of us could have gotten the letter opener after you left,” Rita said.

“Eliminate Vivian. I left after five on Saturday. We had dinner and watched TV till we went to bed. Church Sunday morning. Then I came here. Viv stayed for a luncheon meeting, got her usual ride home. Not enough time to come here for that damned letter opener and get to Theresa before you arrived, Jean. No.” Ed’s smile was noticeably indulgent this time. “Doesn’t make sense. The use of the opener
seems
to point to our office. Doesn’t that mean it would most likely have been used by someone outside the office trying to throw suspicion on us?”

“Oh, good,” Jean said. It was almost a sigh.

“Then who could have gotten that opener Saturday?”

Rita’s pen hovered over her notebook.

Ed leaned toward them, interested for the first time.

“Had to be someone who got into the sales office while I was here. Kevin didn’t show for his floor time Saturday, so I took it for him. Damn few people came. I got this down pat. Had to tell the police three times. Place wasn’t broken into and only our staff has keys. I won’t even let the cleaning company have one. I come in with them Thursday nights. Hua’s daughter Lily stopped in. Was supposed to meet Hua for lunch, but she was still out with buyers. Wrote a message on Hua’s desk where to meet her and left to run an errand. Hua came about half an hour later and left to meet Lily. Before I could get organized to leave—that would be just before one—Eleanor Harding came looking for Wayne. Told her he wasn’t working here yet. Let her use a phone in the staff room to try to reach him. Said her cell phone was dead.”

“She
said.
” Rita echoed.

“Exactly,” Ed said with a meaningful emphasis. “Then Tim Docketter picked up a key to show one of our houses. The owners don’t trust lockboxes. Damn nuisance. Lot of agents won’t bother showing the house. He was alone while I got the key. Keep it in a locked drawer in my desk. Couldn’t close till he returned it. That was okay because Joshua Evanston, former client of Theresa’s, showed up. He never liked Theresa, but we got to be friends and he drops in once in a while. Interesting guy. Tim dropped off the key about three. Joshua would have been alone while I locked the key up or when I made a trip to the bathroom. Would have seen the opener on Theresa’s desk when he was working with her. Joshua and I talked until almost five. Maybe any one of the three of them could have grabbed that thing, but I doubt Tim even knew about it. My money’s on Eleanor Harding.”

“Who is she, anyway? An agent?”

Ed was looking at the phone on his desk. It was ringing again.

“Please,” Jean said.

It wasn’t a day Ed could refuse Jean anything. His eyes left the phone and he addressed Rita’s question.

“Eleanor Harding.” Ed said this name slowly, emphatically. “Theresa brought her up before the Board on charges. Broker. Owned a real estate office in Kensington. Presented her agent’s offer on one of their listings and got a firm contract without mentioning another office had called to register an offer. That’s serious stuff. Theresa reported it. Went before Arbitration or Professional Standards, maybe both. Eleanor lost her license, so Theresa knocked her out of the real estate business.” He paused to emphasize his next words. “I’m betting she took the letter opener to throw suspicion on us.”

That was more helpful than all the wine Jean had drunk for lunch. Rita was smiling, too, as she added an exclamation mark to this entry.

“And the other two?”

“Theresa talked Joshua Evanston into buying a house he couldn’t afford. Low initial interest rate. Rates went up, he couldn’t make the payments, sold the house for less than the loan and is in serious financial trouble. Common story these days. Lost his job as a professor at Mt. Vernon College when Georgetown took over the property. I can tell you he didn’t kill Theresa. Wrong type.”

“Tim whatever?”

Ed shook his head.

“I don’t think they even knew each other.”

The phone was ringing again. Ed looked disgusted.

“This is going to drive me crazy. Calls are probably all for me about Theresa and I’ll have to return them some time. Harold,” he yelled through the doorway, “I’ll take my calls now.”

Rita had closed her notebook, but she wasn’t ready to let go.

“Who’s this Wayne Eleanor Harding thought was—”

“I’m going to tell you all about Wayne tomorrow at sales meeting,” Ed said as he picked up the phone.

The interview was over. They walked past Harold, still on the phone, on the way to the sales room. Jean’s briefcase was on her desk. Inside, all the materials from the open house. She opened the guest book, turned to the first page and found her own entry and the Powers’. No one else wanted to be remembered. No record of witnesses as to whether or not Harold had gone out. But Jean could smile back at Harold on the way out. Ed had been convincing.

“It wasn’t one of us!” Jean said as Rita bleeped her car door open.

“
Probably
not one of us,” Rita corrected.

“What do you mean,
probably
?”

“Well, it isn’t Ed or Vivian. The tells. Ed was telling the truth all the way through.”

“I was watching. Looked right at us, voice never wavered. Those are tells, right?”

“Right. Leaned toward us, arms not crossed protectively across his chest, no hesitation at those critical moments. You got it. Contractions, too. You tend to speak more formally when you’re lying. So Ed and Vivian are out.”

“Now what?”

“Now we watch and wait!”

 
Chapter 14

It was not the usual Tuesday morning sales meeting. The entire staff, even Kevin, arrived early. Male voices could be heard in Ed’s office. Inside the sales room, the topic was no longer sympathy for Jean. The rumor was that there were thirty-three thousand dollars worth of Theresa’s listing commissions and her buyers, who were like gold in this market, to be distributed.

Kevin was withdrawn, poring over a stack of files. Harold was eating chocolate doughnuts from a bag, sitting with some overflow even in Theresa’s large chair. Rita, Stan and Marian were debating their credentials for picking up a share of Theresa’s business. Jean was playing with Rita’s chart in order to avoid participating. The thought of profiting from Theresa’s death was uncomfortable, although she couldn’t help but hope she might. Hua, across from her, was chattering indecipherably on the phone, free hand waving punctuation.

Ed’s appearance silenced all voices.

“I know what’s on your minds, so here’s how it goes down. Frankly, the office needs money and you know all listings belong to the broker. I’d like to distribute Theresa’s business among you, but we have the possibility of an arrangement that will be good for everybody. I have a friend, an agent, interested in developing a real estate investment trust, an REIT. A way to do better in this down market, he thinks. He’ll be in next week to explain it to you. Best to work as an agent. Gets the commissions that way. Currently with a national company who won’t let him do this. They have their own REIT division. A friend, a loan officer, will probably come with him. If they join us, we’ll be small, but we’ll have everything under one roof.”

The serious expression that had begun Ed’s talk had lifted, a smile growing in its place.

“Wayne will be interested in our listings because he’ll get more commission on those. Might convince some people this is the place to list. His clients are wealthy. We got to look good. So Vivian will be coming in to follow up with Theresa’s customers and clients, profits to go into redecorating. We’ll stop there for now. Police are here and want to talk to you. Things being otherwise, this would have been a happy meeting, what with Jean’s first listing sold.”

A scattering of clapping. Jean felt the lack of a tribute to Theresa. No mention at all except the obscure “otherwise.” Ed looked as happy as she had ever seen him, no doubt because the office wasn’t going to die, a feeling she could scarcely begrudge him as she felt it herself.

As the two detectives entered with appropriately stern expressions, Jean thought one of them, the one who looked a little like a short, young Sean Connery, looked familiar. These were probably the two who had interviewed her Sunday. Uncertainty was another confirmation that she must have been in shock. The handsome one took Ed’s place, the chunky, sandy-haired one stood off to the side, notepad and pen in hand.

Marian didn’t give either of them a chance to start the conversation.

“Speaking for all of us,” she began.

“You don’t, Marian,” Ed interrupted. “Let the detectives do their work. These are Detectives Jack Turok and Cory Jablonski.”

Jean would have been crushed by Ed’s put-down. She supposed Marian was used to it.

“Hello, Miss Terrence. You’re looking much better.”

She was right. The dark one was from Sunday. Probably the other one, too. Jean didn’t know what to say. She just nodded and returned his slight smile. Silently, she thanked Rita for the makeup job.

“We got your statements Sunday, but thought it might be a good idea to bounce some ideas around. Get a feel for where Ms. Vanderhoff worked, how you worked together,” Jack Turok began. “People often have second thoughts once the crisis has passed.”

Marian’s eyes were bright and there was a half-smile of anticipation.
My
God
, Jean thought,
she’s enjoying this!
Rita and Hua were merely attentive, Harold impassive as he wiped off the last trace of chocolate icing from his upper lip and Stan seemingly relaxed, unreadable. Kevin looked sad, probably disappointed he wasn’t getting anything from the many deals he had helped Theresa with. She could see the detectives were watching, too, and wondered if they saw anything she didn’t.

“I want to go over this. Ms. Chan, you saw Ms. Vanderhoff using her letter opener Saturday morning about eleven?”

Hua nodded placidly.

“Anyone else see it?”

“I only one here in this room. Ed at duty desk. Kevin not here for floor duty.” Hua wagged a stubby finger at Kevin. “Theresa leave with buyers. They not come in here. Meet in reception room. Then I leave, too. Pick up buyers to see one house only. But they slow. I late for lunch with Lily. Like I say before.”

“You said Ms. Vanderhoff never put her letter opener in her briefcase.”

“No recall Saturday, but she not put in briefcase, never.”

“You all agreed that was the case.”

He looked around and got affirmative responses from all but Marian, who apparently felt the need to offer more.

“She used to take it to show it off. I mean, selling five million! I never—but then …” Marian looked at Harold. “Harold made it so sharp—that was—well, she just couldn’t! It cut the leather. Calf skin. Nasty.”

The detective shrugged, clearly dissatisfied with this conclusion.

“None of you came to the office after it closed Saturday and saw anyone else here? Or Sunday morning? No one passed here and saw a car belonging to one of the other agents?”

A general shaking of heads and negative murmuring as the detective paused between each question.

“Once again, and I apologize for repeating these questions, you all had your keys during this time? You didn’t briefly lose or lend one to anyone? Specifically, did anyone ever loan a key to Mr. Vanderhoff since new keys were issued last December?”