Terrier Transgressions

Chapter Nineteen

“It’s go time,” I muttered from the front seat of my car, which now sat parked in the small lot outside Lighthouse Realty & Brokerage. My hands shook as I grabbed my striped wicker bag from the passenger seat floor well and held it open for Octo-Cat to climb inside.

He growled but otherwise complied without too much complaint.

“Remember, your iPad is tucked into the back pocket,” I informed him. “I’ll keep your bag on my lap. If there’s an emergency, jump out and knock the bag off my lap. That should make the iPad fall out onto the floor so you can use it.”

“Understood,” he said. “But what if it ends up upside down?”

“Let’s pray it doesn’t,” I said, wishing I would have seen this flaw in my plan earlier. But we were here now, and I had to take action.

“Just put it in the bag next to me,” he said, popping his head out of the bag to study me.

“But you don’t like things touching you,” I pointed out.

“It’s an inconvenience, yes. But it would be much more inconvenient if you died and I had to train another human on my likes and dislikes.”

“Aww, so you do love me, after all!” I cooed, slipping the iPad out of the back pocket and into the main compartment of the bag.

“Enough with the mushy stuff. Get in there and catch the bad guy,” he said, lowering himself back into position.

Right. I took another deep breath and clambered out of the car, adjusting the bag carefully over my shoulder as I approached the front door. Hopefully Sandra would be in. I hadn’t called ahead, preferring to play things by ear. Yes, I didn’t have much of a plan, but hoped the acting genes in my family would come in handy.

When I pushed through the glass door, a little bell chimed to announce my arrival. The office smelled pleasant like warm vanilla, and the waiting area was flanked with two overstuffed couches and an inviting array of magazines. It even had a mini cooler filled with bottled water, several kinds of soda, and coffee shots.

Seeing that no one was waiting at the front desk, I took the opportunity to snag one of the cold coffee shots. Maybe I could buy these for myself at home. I popped the can open and took an appreciative swig, downing the entire thing in three big gulps.

Liquid courage?

I sure hoped so.

“Hello, and welcome to Lighthouse Realty & Brokerage,” a woman’s voice greeted me from across the room. “How can we help you?”

I glanced over and immediately recognized Sandra Lynn with her unmistakable curly red hair and that huge smile that I now knew hid dark secrets. I grabbed the straps on my bag, needing the connection to Octo-Cat to keep my wits about me and stay on task.

“Good afternoon,” I said with what I hoped was a pleasant smile. “I’m here because I’d like to buy a house.”

Sandra laughed, and the sound was startlingly shrill. I wonder if I would have been so put off by it without the knowledge of her after-hours criminal activity. “Well, I can certainly help with that. Why don’t you come on back to my office?” She began taking sure, steady strides down the hall, and I followed after.

“You’re in luck,” she prattled on over her shoulder as we walked. “Usually walk-ins have to deal with one of our junior agents, but I just so happened to have a cancellation this afternoon. As the owner of this realty and the most experienced agent, I’ll make sure you have the house of your dreams in no time at all.”

She simpered at me as she stopped and waited for me to enter the small, dimly lit office ahead of her.

“That is lucky,” I said with a polite smile of my own.

“What’s your name, dear? And will this be your first time purchasing?” Sandra took a seat behind her desk and leaned forward slightly as we spoke.

“I’m Angela,” I said, reaching forward to shake her hand. It wasn’t quite a lie, but it wasn’t quite the truth. Nobody called me Angela except Octo-Cat—and even then he only did it on occasion. “Yes, it’s my first time,” I finished.

“Well, let me give you a run-down of the basics,” Sandra said, launching into a lengthy monologue that gave me time to search the office with my eyes. Nothing stood out as being particularly incriminating, but I hadn’t exactly expected to find a bloody hammer sitting on top of her desk, either.

Sandra finished her speech and waited for me to say something, but I hadn’t been paying close enough attention to figure out what.

“What are you looking for, dear?” she repeated. Her smile faltered somewhat as she waited for me to keep up my end of the exchange.

“Um…” I thought back to all the mental gymnastics Charles, Nan, Mitch, and I had done of the car ride home to Glendale. They all centered around the question: What reason could a realtor possibly have to kill her clients? Money seemed the safest bet. I didn’t understand what all that entailed but decided to broach the subject delicately.

“I’d really like a nice three bedroom, but I’m worried I may not have enough money to make my dream house a reality.”

She frowned briefly before shaking her head and bringing back the smile. “That’s okay. We can work around it. What’s your credit like?”

“It’s pretty bad.” Unfortunately, that part wasn’t a lie.

She pressed her coral-colored lips together in a flat line. “Hmm.”

“Is there anything you can do to help?” I asked, calling up my best impression of a desperate aspiring homeowner.

Sandra stiffened, taking a moment before answering. “There are government programs that may be able to help get you into a house. Your interest rate probably won’t be that good, but that’s the case for a lot of first-time buyers.”

“Okay,” I said helplessly.

“Why did you decide to buy now if money is so tight?” she asked.

I had to think fast to avoid suspicion, so I said the first thing that popped into my head. “Well, with my current rental, it feels like me and my cat are living on top of each other. We need some more space. Oh, and I have a dog, too. A Yorkie.”

She blanched at this and swallowed before letting that shrill laugh loose again. “Sounds like you have your hands fall,” she said.

I’m not sure if I imagined it, but she definitely faltered upon the mention of “my” Yorkie. If I could push this topic a little further, maybe I could unsettle her enough to trick her into a confession.

“Are you a dog person?” I asked, hugging my bag tight on my lap to reassure Octo-Cat, who no doubt hated not being able to join this particular conversation. After all, one of his favorite pastimes since meeting Yo-Yo was pointing out how superior cats are to dogs.

“I watched a dog for a friend once,” Sandra answered, turning away from me to organize some papers. “I’m not sure I’m cut out for a dog companion myself, but since you are, let’s get you a place with a fenced-in yard.” She handed me a printed-out list triumphantly.

I puzzled over her words while pretending to review the listing. Watched a dog for a friend? Was she talking about Yo-Yo? Is that why he’d disappeared for a few weeks before turning back up at the Hayes’s door where Charles then found him? And, if so, why hadn’t Yo-Yo told us?

I thought his traumatic memory loss had been resolved once we reunited him with Mitch, but perhaps he’d still chosen to forget some of the other details that weren’t directly pertinent to remembering who’d done it.

“I’m not sure this one is for me,” I said, pushing the listing back across the desk. “Thank you, though.”

“Have you done any shopping around online? Those listings aren’t always the most up to date, but if you have an idea of what you like, it could help me to refine our search.”

She was very good at staying right on topic and pushing me closer to buying with each comment. It would take something major to knock her off her game. Luckily, I still had an ace up my sleeve.

“Actually…” I said, trying to still my shaking hands by hugging the wicker bag tighter to my chest. “There is a place I like out in Glendale. It’s above my price range, but I’m hoping we might be able to get a good deal.”

“I’m happy to negotiate with the homeowners to see what we can do,” Sandra said with an ingratiating smile. “Is that the house you want? Are you ready to start putting together an offer?”

“Well, it is a really nice house. I guess we could try,” I said, feigning hesitation.

She nodded enthusiastically. I’m sure it must be nice to make a big commission with hardly any work at all. She probably looked at me and saw a giant, sparkling dollar sign now. “Fabulous. Do you have the address?”

I pulled out my phone and pretended to search for information before rattling off the Hayes’s address, which I already happened to know by heart.

Sandra didn’t say anything in response—just sat there starting at me, so I added, “Like I said, I’m hoping we can get a good deal, because two people were murdered there.”

“I don’t think that’s the house for you, dear,” the realtor spat out at last.

“Why not?” I argued. “It’s in a great location and has plenty of space for me and my pets. Can’t we at least put in an offer and see?”

“I’d really urge you to consider a property with a less sordid history,” she said, turning back to her files and pulling out another listing, seemingly at random. “This looks nice. How about this one?”

I didn’t even look down at the paper. Keeping my eyes glued to hers, I licked my lips and said, “You said we could put in an offer, and that’s what I want to do. Can we get started please?”

She shook her head. “I probably shouldn’t be saying this, because it makes me look a little, well, like I’m not all there…” Sandra paused to laugh, but I kept my face neutral, waiting.

“But that place you mentioned?” she continued. “It’s very, very haunted.”

“Oh? Just a sec.” I placed my bag on the floor right in front of her oversized desk so that she wouldn’t be able to see what I was doing unless she chose to stand up. I grabbed the iPad and motioned for Octo-Cat to creep out as well. Once both were settled on the floor and I confirmed that the tabby was indeed placing a call to my mom, I straightened back in my chair and returned my focus to an increasingly nervous-looking Sandra.

“It’s haunted, huh?” I asked, shaking my head. “Well, how about that?”

She nodded eagerly; relief flashed across her face. “I know some people don’t believe in ghosts and all, but they are there and very angry. It’s best not to get involved with that mess.”

“Wow. Hmm,” I said, pretending to think this over carefully but only to buy us a little more time. If Octo-Cat could get Mom on the line before I showed my hand, she’d be able to hear what happened next. I heard a little murmur sound from the floor. That had to be her.

“What was that?” Sandra asked, shifting her gaze around the room to find the source of the speaker.

“Wait. I have a question,” I blurted out to draw her attention back to me. “You say the ghosts are angry. Is that because you murdered them?”