“Of course the loan officer’s in on the scam. If the sellers get edgy and make a fuss, loan officer claims the check for the down payment was never actually deposited into escrow, that it’s still waiting in the file for the final price resolution.” Davis smiled. “What happened this time, the sellers weren’t having any, they went to the real estate board.” Her square face, so often too solemn, lit with pleasure. “Everything hit the fan. Loan officer and mortgage officer were fired. Mortgage company made good to the seller. I’m guessing either Kraft Realty sent her packing, or she left before they could fire her.”
The two officers were silent, their satisfied looks matching closely the tomcat’s own hidden smile as the three enjoyed a rare moment of justice.
Max said, “Alain Bent and Erik Kraft were partners, they worked most of their sales together. Makes you wonder if he was in on the scam.”
Davis nodded. “Apparently Fowler wants nothing more to do with Alain. Their latest ads, he’s removed her picture. As to Esther Fowler—what will happen to Billy? I’m sure he wouldn’t choose to live with her, even if she did want him.”
Max shook his head. “For all intents and purposes, the kid’s an orphan. I don’t want to bring in Children’s Services. Right now, he’s staying up at our place. He has a permit to work part of the school day; I talked with the principal this morning, and that’s all in order. I didn’t say much, just that he was doing some work for me, didn’t mention where he’s living and, interestingly, he didn’t ask.”
Joe hoped Max could keep it that way. Maybe, one way or another, Erik Kraft had used some pull to stifle questions about Billy. When Davis left, the tomcat slipped up the hall and out through the glass door, on the heels of an unhappy young woman who had just paid a stout traffic ticket. Scrambling up the oak tree, he headed fast for the hills and the neighborhood where Dulcie’s phone call had so abruptly ended. It was always touchy to break into a house and use a stranger’s phone and not be overheard, to get out again fast, before you were discovered.
Even the matter of using their own phones, at home, was stressful. Clyde’s and Ryan’s, and Wilma’s phones all had caller ID blocking, but you never knew when it would fail. After the Damens’ phones had done that twice, Clyde did a daily check on the house phones, to be safe. Wilma had researched the possibility of falsifying their numbers, but such a call had to be made through a computer, and that was more than a cat in a hurry could deal with.
No, there had to be a better way. He hadn’t really addressed the problem fully, but one idea had promise—he should have checked it out when he had the chance, before he woke to see flames licking at the sky, before all hell broke loose. Annoyed at himself for his procrastination, he headed fast up the hills. Leaping from oak limb to roof and across the chasms of narrow alleys, he could only pray his lady hadn’t, while making that call, stepped with all four paws into a tangle of trouble.
15
The rough wood siding of Ryan and Clyde’s remodel badly needed paint, the roof looked frail even for a cat to walk on, the yard resembled an untended vacant lot given over to stray dogs. The neighborhood, even at midday, seemed dark, the clouds low, the giant cypress trees, originally planted far apart as spindly saplings, now spread their reaching arms over the frail cottages as if to bury them. The Damens had bought their gray board-and-batten shack just after Christmas but so far had done no work at all as Ryan finished up Hanni’s remodel, and a new house, pushing their own investment aside. The one-bedroom dwelling was as grim inside as out; Debbie Kraft would have to make do with a good cleaning, provided she was willing. Having pushed into their lives uninvited, demanding bed and board, how could she refuse to work for her shelter?
How, indeed? Ryan thought as she pulled the king cab onto the cracked drive, waving Debbie in to park beside her. It was over an hour since they’d left home in their two-vehicle parade, she and Clyde trying not to lose their tempers as they detoured for Debbie to buy groceries, again when she insisted they swing by the school Vinnie would be attending, and the nearest day care for Tessa. “So I’ll know where these things are,” Debbie said. “Life will be hard enough if I have to get a job, with two children to take care of.” She didn’t ask if Ryan and Clyde had time for side trips, or if this particular day care was safe and caring; her concern was that it was convenient, as close as possible to the cottage. “If I have to go to work, I can’t be running all over dragging kids, I won’t have the time for that.” Even Rock looked disgusted, he’d had enough of Debbie’s brassy voice. Ryan had to grin when she thought what Joe would have said. She didn’t know where he’d gone, but he’d disappeared in a flash the minute they started loading the car.
Now, the minute Debbie parked, Vinnie piled out, stood scowling at the frame shack, the front door peeling long strips of gray paint, the rusty window screens deeply dented, two of them torn, and a long crack across the corner of the front window.
“I’m not staying here,” Vinnie said. Turning, she stared between the trees, up the hill to where the woods ended, where the houses were larger and well kept, the gardens trimmed and bright with sun, and her gaze fixed on the rambling white brick house with its deep front patio. “I want to stay up there, I want to go back there, that’s—”
“Go unload the car,” Debbie snapped, grabbing her arm.
“Why can’t we—”
“Unload the car. Now.”
Ryan and Clyde, glancing at each other, watched the two with interest. Why would the child fix on a strange house, what did she mean, “go back there”? What was that about?
Earlier, stopping at the little village grocery, they had taken the two little girls into the king cab while Debbie went in to do her shopping. Watching the kids gave them an excuse not to accompany her, not to be present at the checkout to watch her fumble over her purse, making excuses that she was short of cash. In the pickup, Vinnie had sat in the front seat between them, sulking, while Tessa crawled into the backseat and snuggled up with Rock. It wasn’t long until Vinnie crawled in back, too, crowding her sister. Taking off her shoe, she began to poke it at Rock, jamming the toe into his silky hide so that Rock was forced to either snap at her or scramble away to the far corner. He scrambled, lunging away as Ryan reached over and snatched the shoe.
“You do that again, Vinnie, you’ll get this shoe, hard, across your backside.”
Vinnie had stared at her defiantly, while four-year-old Tessa moved closer to Rock, smoothing her hand gently down his sleek shoulder. The Weimaraner nosed at her with infinite patience, though her small hand must surely have tickled. As Tessa stroked his satiny warmth, a little smile bloomed on the child’s face. Only when Vinnie began talking about Hesmerra’s death did Tessa’s face crumple. “Our grandmother burned to death,” Vinnie said, standing up on the seat watching with satisfaction as Tessa’s tears welled up.
“Your gran did not burn to death,” Ryan said. “Your grandmother was already in heaven when the fire started. The fire didn’t hurt her at all.”
“There’s no such thing as heaven. How do you know she was dead?”