Dying for a Change (12 page)

“
Honey, what didn’t Ray do.” She sighed. “He’s been bending the law since I met him, but somehow he always seems to slide out from under. Why Sharon keeps him...”

“
Loyalty to her father’s memory.” Bo grunted a little and eased his seat belt away from his belly. “Smart girl, Sharon. She’s done a great job with that business since Hal died.”

“
Maybe so, but one of these day, Ray Yarborough’s going to get himself in real trouble. I hope he doesn’t drag Sharon down with him.” Madelaine’s voice was grim. “Here we are, first house on our list. Ellen, take notes. You’ll never remember unless you do. Now, make this quick, you two. We’ve got to be back in town early. We’ve got a funeral to go to.”

We finished the houses in town and headed out to the country before the subject of Stop N Shop came up.

“
Sharon’s done a bang up job.” Bo nodded his admiration. “I thought she’d lost her mind when she put that partnership together to buy that land. She asked me if I wanted to buy in. I didn’t, and now I’m kicking myself. That was, when was that, Madelaine?”

“
A little more than two years ago.” Madeleine slowed down, peering at dirt roads. “That place is around here somewhere.”

“
Down around that bend.” Bo leaned forward as much as stomach and seat belt would allow. “Turn by that oak tree.” He didn’t miss a beat getting back to Stop N Shop. “Then, only a few months ago, Sharon comes up with the Stop N Shop people. Couldn’t believe it. ‘Course, it’s thrown some folks into a tailspin.”

“
And rightly so,” Madelaine said with a sniff. “Not that I don’t want that store, I get pretty sick of the Emporium, but some of the downtown people won’t survive. I just hope the downtown does.”

“
What do you mean?” Dan had said something like this, but what could happen to a whole downtown?

“
If enough big chains come into a town, everybody goes there and the downtown falls apart.” Madelaine slowed some more and deftly drove around a pothole. “People like choices and low prices. Small merchants can’t provide either. It takes a lot of planning to keep a small town looking and feeling like one. Here we are.”

The subject changed abruptly as Madelaine turned slowly up a dirt road. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she asked Bo, eyeing the washboard road dubiously.

“
That’s what the directions say, and there’s the sign.”

“
How much do they want for this? How many acres did you say?”

Bo supplied the information. Madelaine snorted in disgust. “They’re out of their minds. Well, we’re here now. Might as well take a look.”

It was on the way back I brought up Benjamin. “Do you think Stop N Shop would drive the Emporium out of business?”

“
Benjamin’s doesn’t need Stop N Shop for that,” Bo answered grimly.

“
Benjamin’s a perfect example of what we were talking about,” Madelaine said. “He won’t listen to anyone, he’s run that business into the ground, and is determined to blame it on a new store that isn’t even built.”

“
It sounded like he blamed everything on Hank.”

“
That too.” There was sadness in Bo’s voice, but a trace of disgust as well. “Hank and Benjamin were friends, but after Rose died things sort of fell apart for Benjamin, and he started to blame anything, or anybody, for his troubles.”

“
He’s led the opposition to that store right from the beginning,” Madelaine slowed down as we approached my office, then stopped the car with a jerk.

“
Benjamin attacked Hank with a hammer.” I’d opened the back door but paused, waiting to see if there was a response.

“
I know,” Madelaine said softly. She glanced at Bo, who was looking straight ahead, saying nothing. “I know,” she repeated.

I walked into a full office. Ray was in the conference room with a young couple. Tom was on the phone, making notes on a legal pad as he talked. Nicole stood beside the coping machine, running something, and Sharon sat at her desk, intently going through a file of papers. Dottie was busy at the computer, as usual.

“
Any messages?” I got the answer I expected.

“
No.” She didn’t look away from the screen.

I walked by Nicole to get to the coffee maker.

“
Are you and Tom going to the funeral?”

“
Yes.”

If conversations got any shorter, we’d all be communicating in sign language.

“
Want to ride with me?”

“
Oh, Ellen, thanks.” Nicole looked me for the first time. “I have a terrible headache. I think we’re going straight home after the service.”

Actually, I was glad to go alone. I’d only offered to be polite. I took a better look at Nicole and wondered what had happened. She looked like a deflated balloon. Bouncy, bubbly Nicole was dragging.

“
Are you sick?” Flu, colds, it was the right time of year.

“
Sick,” she repeated, looking over at Tom. “Not with anything contagious.”

Tom didn’t look any better than Nicole. What was the matter with them? Surely they weren’t worried Tom might be a suspect. If they were, they were advertising it for the entire world to see. No. Tom wouldn’t, couldn’t, commit murder. Something’s going on though, I thought, but whatever it is, they weren’t making it any better slinking around looking guilty.

I picked through the coffee mugs, looking for a clean one, settled for one that looked passable, filled it, and headed for my own desk. There, on my calendar, marked in red, it said, ‘floor time’. We are a small office and try to take turns making sure someone is available to answer inquiries on properties, both from other agents and potential clients. This afternoon, it was my turn.

I walked over to Dottie’s desk, “I’m on the floor this afternoon and I really...”

“
Don’t worry, Ellen.” She actually looked up at me. “We’re closing the office. Hank was a good client, and a good friend to most of us. Sharon wants all of us there.” She gave a little sniff.

“
You’d known Hank a long time.” I wasn’t sure what else to say. Should I offer condolences?

“
A long time.” There was a lot of emotion in Dottie’s voice, but I couldn’t sort it out. “Hank was a client of Sharon’s father. I was secretary then, too.” She gave a deep wobbly sort of sigh. “We were in The Little Theater group together. He was a fine man.”

I wanted to ask her if she’d been having an affair with him, but obviously I couldn’t. However, since we were talking about The Little Theater group…. “I understand Hank used to give you a ride home from the meetings.” I tried not to sound intrusive, just sympathetic, “and that he sometimes took you bowling.”

“
Bowling?” Dottie’s head jerked up like it had been yanked. “What do you mean?”

“
Nothing.” I was surprised and embarrassed I’d caused this reaction. “Only, someone said they saw you together at the bowling alley.”

“
I hate small towns.” She looked toward Sharon’s office with a more than normal anxious expression. “Does Sharon know?”

“
I have no idea.” I kept my voice low; I wasn’t sure why except Dottie’s concern Sharon might hear was contagious. “I won’t mention it again. I’m real sorry, Dottie, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Evidently I had the answer to my question. Dottie and Hank had been doing something they didn’t want made public, and Dottie sure didn’t want Sharon to find out. Was she afraid she’d be fired?

“
Thanks, and, Ellen. Do you think maybe we could talk? There’s something...”

“
Ellen.” Sharon’s voice came from directly over my shoulder. “I’m glad you’re here. Are you going to Hank’s funeral?”

“
Yes. I had floor duty, but Dottie says we’re closing the office.” I hoped Sharon hadn’t seen me jump. I felt like a kid caught whispering in class.

Sharon looked at me sharply, then down at Dottie, but all she said was, “I’m going to do some errands, then go to lunch. I’ll see all of you at the church.”

“
Sharon.” Dottie said hurriedly, ‘those addresses I needed. Did you get them yet?”

Sharon stopped, turned and looked down at Dottie. “I’m sure I already told you.” Sharon’s voice was much too patient. Dottie flushed. “You don’t have to worry about that. I have all that information on my own computer, and I’ve taken care of everything.” She gave Dottie a long look, me a shorter one, shifted her big bag higher up her shoulder, straightened out her black cashmere sweater, and left.

“
She’s so damned efficient.” Dottie’s voice was low with an underlay of–what? The only thing I could tell was that I was surprised, no, shocked, that mousy Dottie would use an expletive. Maybe Dottie had hidden depths. But she was asking me a question and my attention to it left her depths, hidden or otherwise, unexplored.

“
Ellen, if you’re not busy tonight, maybe you’d like to come to my house for a glass of wine, or something.”

I was surprised again, and touched. “I can’t tonight, but I’d love to some other time.”

“
Sure.” She looked whipped and guilt immediately struck. This is ridiculous, I thought crossly. I’m going home to lunch where the only one I have to deal with is Jake.

Ray emerged from the conference room, shepherding his young couple toward the door.

“
You’re doing the right thing,” he told them, oozing confidence. “That house is a great buy. You’ll be real happy there.”

They didn’t look entirely convinced. “You’re sure about the plumbing?” The woman, girl really, asked somewhat tentatively, “and the roof. Shouldn’t we have it checked? It looks pretty old.”

“
We don’t have many to choose from, do we,” Ray replied heartily. “Town this size, in your price range. Besides, the whole town is old.”

“
I suppose.” The girl sounded doubtful and there were worry lines across her forehead.

“
I’ll let you know, but I’m sure this offer will be accepted. Now, you’ve got that appointment with the lender, and you don’t want to be late. I’ll call you.” He almost shoved them out the door.

“
First time home buyers,” he said, unnecessarily. “Don’t have any money, but expect a mansion.”

“
I thought we were supposed to encourage inspections.” I was caught off guard by Ray’s attitude.

“
All inspections do is foul up a deal.” Ray looked at me with a sour expression that somehow had a warning in it. “Those kids’ll be fine.”

Tom and Nicole had come up behind Ray, coats on, ready to leave. The distaste on Tom’s face as he listened to Ray was plain, but he didn’t say anything.

“
We’re leaving now,” Nicole told Dottie. “I don’t think we’ll be back after the funeral, so could you put everything on our voice mail?”

Dottie nodded and watched them start toward the door. “Tom, you’re going to do what we agreed, aren’t you?” She looked at him anxiously.

Tom stopped and slowly turned back. He looked as if he wanted to say something, but Ray was hanging on every word. “For a while.” He pointedly ignored Ray and hurried after Nicole.

“
What was that all about?” Ray turned back toward Dottie, his voice and his eyes filled with curiosity.

Dottie ignored him. She shut down her computer and tidied up her desk.

“
I’ve got this file, with this offer.” Belligerence was back. “If you’re leaving, what am I going to do with it?”

“
Put it there, with all the other working offers.” Dottie actually let a little irritation show. “That’s where you always put them. There’s nothing I can do until it’s accepted.”

Ray growled a little, but slipped the file into the slot Dottie had indicated.

“
Are you going to the funeral?” I asked, more to ease the tension than because I cared. It didn’t work.

“
What do you think I am, a hypocrite?” Ray transferred his irritation to me and snarled. “Hank hated me, he was out to get me, and didn’t care how many lies he told to do it. You think I’m going to his funeral and pretend I’m sad he’s dead? I don’t think so.” He stalked back to his desk, grabbed his briefcase, then came back past us and went out the door without another word.

“
Ouch.”

“
Yeah.” Dottie nodded her agreement. “I’m going to lock up, Ellen. Unless there’s something…”

“
No, no. I’m going. See you later.” I grabbed my purse and headed for home.

The streets around St. Stephen’s were filled with cars. I finally found a place behind First

Methodist and walked back. I hurried up the steps, a little out of breath and almost late. The church was largely full. Only a few people were still standing out front, trying to ignore the hearse, talking in the hushed tones that somehow seem appropriate for these occasions.

I had always loved this church. My parents had attended Valley Presbyterian, but another aunt had joined St. Stephen’s, causing a raised eyebrow or two in the family. I had gone with her a few times and been entranced with the large stained glass window behind the altar and the ornate choir loft. I stopped briefly to admire the window, grateful that it hadn’t changed. An usher approached and I followed him a short way down the aisle to one of the only open seats. There were a lot of people around who nodded, confident I knew them. Most of them were about my parents’ age, many looked familiar, but I could put names to only one or two. I didn’t see anyone I really knew.