Her sigh echoed across the line. "Saturday, that's it."
"Tuesday."
"Sunday."
"Monday."
"Deal. Please be careful, Nina. I mean it."
"I will."
I told her about the plans I had to meet with the developer, Demming, later that afternoon, but I didn't mention the calls I'd gotten, or the note that had somehow found its way onto my bed. The less she knew about that sort of thing, the better.
"I'm looking forward to dinner tomorrow night with you and Kevin."
I bit my lip. Cringed. "Uh, bad news, there. He has to work. Ana's gonna tag along, if that's okay."
"That's fine. I haven't seen Ana in ages. But be sure to say hello to Kevin for us."
Righty-o. We said our good-byes after setting a time and place for dinner.
There was only one new message on my machine—from Pesky Pests. I called them back, but they were once again out in the field. I was beginning to think Xena had run, uh, slithered, away, but I still didn't relax my guard. It would be just like that snake to lull me into a false sense of security, then spring.
I hurried through lunch, eager to see what Demming had to say. Okay, not entirely true. My house just didn't feel like a home anymore. Sure, Xena terrified me, but she wasn't the only thing. At least with her I knew the enemy. Someone had come into my house yesterday. Someone had been in my bedroom. Had touched my jammies.
Even though I was ticked at Kevin, and didn't with 100 percent certainty trust him, I admit I entertained thoughts about letting him see the note and telling him about heavy breathing calls. He had more resources than I did. But telling him would not guarantee his silence, and I had promised Mrs. Sandowski I wouldn't involve the police. What's a girl to do?
I'd figure something out. Eventually.
I placed a call to an alarm company and arranged for someone to come out to show me the different alarms the company offered. Better to be safe than sorry, and although I knew any professional criminal would know how to bypass most systems, it was worth a try.
The phone rang and I jumped. I reached for it, then let my arm fall to my side. I swallowed. The answering machine clicked on.
"Nina? This is Ma-ma. Don't forget Tuesday!"
Tuesday? Tuesday? Oh, the fitting. I pressed the delete button. As far as I was concerned, I had no plans for Tuesday.
I hurried the dishes, wiped my hands on my jeans, and had reached for my backpack when the phone rang again. I instinctively reached for it without thinking.
"Hello."
"Nina Quinn?"
"Yes?"
"This is Robert MacKenna, Riley's vice principal."
Dread built in my stomach.
"I was just wondering if you knew that he wasn't in school today."
"But I dropped him off there myself," I said inanely.
"I'm sorry. He didn't even make it to first period."
I banged my head against the kitchen wall. "Thanks for letting me know."
"He'll be punished for missing."
"What kind of punishment?"
"Detention. If it keeps up, we'll have to sit down with him and work out a probationary plan."
Great. Just great.
"Oh, and Nina?"
"Yeah?"
"In case you didn't know, it's morning detention. Six thirty to seven fifteen. The school board recently decided that making these kids get up so early adds a little oomph to their punishment."
"No flogging?"
He laughed. "No. Some parents complained."
A man with my sense of humor. I managed a smile as I pressed my eyes together to keep the moisture in.
"Any chance Mike Novak's in? Could I talk with him?"
"Hold on," MacKenna said. "I'll check."
A minute later he came back on the line. "Can't seem to find him."
"Thanks for trying."
I hung up, picked up the phone again. Knowing Riley had skipped again left me uneasy. I wanted more information about the Skinz.
A quick call to Candy Carradon left me with more questions. Seems she left work right after lunch to go to a conference somewhere out of state.
Funny how she hadn't mentioned that to me earlier when she asked me to call her if I had any questions.
What was going on?
Fourteen
John Demming had stood me up.
"He's out at a site," his receptionist said.
"We had an appointment."
She shrugged.
"Can you at least tell me what site?"
She worried her lip. John Demming had probably told her to tell me he was out, but I guessed he'd never told her not to tell me where. She didn't look like the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, so I leaned in close, slipped my wedding band off my finger and slid it into my pocket.
"It's kind of important," I said.
"It is?"
Definitely, air made up most of what was in her head. She wiped a strand of dark brown hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. She was young, maybe nineteen.
I covered my eyes dramatically and tried desperately to scare up some tears. It wasn't too hard, considering the state of my life. I sniffled. "D-do you have a tis-sue?"
She reached in her desk and handed me a box. I plucked out a Puffs. "Th-thank you." I hiccupped.
Taking a deep breath, I started talking fast, hoping that John Demming was indeed married. "He was supposed to be here, and oh, I knew I shouldn't have trusted him when he told me he would leave his wife, then told me that he'd love me forever, then got me pregnant and he said he'd support us. Now me and little Johnny are gonna be kicked out on the street if he doesn't come up with the money he owes us for back child support." I sniffed again for effect.
"Men are slime," she said, coming around the desk. She put a comforting arm around my shoulder. She smelled like cigarettes.
"I know." I hiccupped again, blew my nose.
"He's at a development off Millson Road. Do you know where that is?"
"Yeah. I think," I said softly.
"Here," she said, tossing me a hard hat, "you'll need this."
I followed the receptionist's directions to the new subdivision. I took Vista View as a short cut. If I lived there I'd be a little ticked too, but as a driver, it was much easier than going around.
I turned onto Millson, and as I approached Sandowski's Farm, I slowed. Nothing looked unusual. The house was still falling down around itself.
I kept driving east on Millson, and about a half mile down from Sandowski's Farm, I turned left into the subdivision.
The streets were wide and tree lined. Electric reproductions of gaslights dotted the sidewalks at intervals of every third house. It looked to me as if the construction was completed in the neighborhood, but as I wended my way down the twisting streets, I saw the frames of new houses being erected.
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 han
drail. 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."
Ohh-kay.
"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 everything you 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."