Ellen McKenzie 04-Murder Half-Baked (24 page)

I nodded and headed for the dining room. He almost ran me over when I stopped. I walked back and grabbed the handle on the car seat.

“You don’t have to do that.” The look on Leona’s face was surprise quickly replaced with fury.

“I promised Marilee I wouldn’t let him out of my sight,” I told her brightly and quickly followed Dan, who held the swinging door open for me. He didn’t say anything until it had stopped swinging.

“Did you really promise that?”

“Not exactly.”

“You really don’t trust her, do you?”

“It’s just that
…
well
…
no.”

“What do you think she’ll do? Grab the kid and run down the street?”

“Of course not. It’s just that
… I
t’s not normal, the way she acts about the baby. It gives me the creeps.”

I put the carrier on the table
next to
the piles of clothes. Dan stood in front of him, looking down, sipping his coffee, thinking about I didn’t know what.

“Doesn’t that kid have a name?”

“Not that I’ve heard,” I said. “I’ll ask Marilee later. Right now we have another problem.”
The door was completely closed, but I moved toward the living room anyway. “That was my mother.”

“I gathered that.”

“They’re coming early.”

“How early?”

I sighed. “Like around the fifteenth early. She wants to help.”

“They want to come early.” The look on Dan’s face would have been funny if I’d been in a mood to be amused.

“She wanted to come even earlier
. S
he thought she could help make the wedding dinner.”

“You’re kidding. Aren’t you?”

This time I really did have to smile. Dan had eaten plenty of my mother’s food and was well aware that we couldn’t serve four hundred people nothing but fried chicken. And champagne, of course.

“I love your mother,” he said hastily, “but
…”

“We both love my mother, but she can’t cook. Especially for that many people.”

“Do we have a caterer? How about that guy who wants to barbe
c
ue the tri-tip? I like tri-tip.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve. It’s probably going to be cold. If you want to wait until August
…”

The look he gave me said plainly what he thought of that idea.

“I have the number for another caterer. Someone Marilee knows. I’m calling him today.”

“Marilee?”

“There’s lots more to Marilee than I would have suspected.”

“Good.” Dan wasn’t paying any attention to the subject of Marilee. He was thinking of my parents, and probably of his also. “Where are they going to stay?”

“Who?”

“Your parents.”

“Good question. I’m sure they expect to stay here, but we’re a little
booked up
.”

“Yeah.”

I watched his expression change. “Didn’t you write an offer for Anne?”

I nodded. “A good one, too. Why?”

“How long before they can move in?”

“First I have to run the offer by the attorney
;
then I need to get it accepted. I have an appointment with him this morning. I’ll leave as soon as I can get in the shower. But it could easily take ninety days to close it. There’s financing and
…
oh.”

“What?”

“I just had an idea.”

“I knew I could count on you.” He grinned and reached out and hugged me. “Best little real estate agent in town, that’s you. What are you going to do?”

“Rent it.”

“What?” He stepped back and frowned at me. “How can you rent it?”

“It’s called interim occupancy. The house is vacant, so we rent it during the interim while we wait for the escrow to close. It can get kind of complicated. I’ll have to run it by Mr. Butler, but I think I can make it work. At least, I’ll try. I wonder what I did with Anne’s cell phone number.”

“How fast can we get that baby out of here?”

“Listen, Mr. Chief of Police, taking them in was your idea. I’ll do the best I can, but until I get further along
…
I don’t know.”

He looked at me with tired eyes. “Try to make it fast. If I’m going to do without sleep, I can think of better ways to stay awake than listening to a baby cry.”

I laughed. “So can I. Believe me, I’ll move heaven and earth to get them out of here.”

A car pulled into the driveway and stopped. I stiffen
ed
and immediately turned toward the living room window. “Where’s Gary?”

“I told him to go home when I got here last night. It’s Mary.”

“I knew that.” But I hadn’t. I had immediately thought of Grady. Coming after Marilee. Damn, if I were this jumpy, how did she feel?

The back screen door slammed. Voices echoed. Another car drove up and parked in front of the house. Nathan and Anne got out of that one.

Dan sighed. “I’ll get the front door. You go organize the kitchen and then, Ellie, head for the shower. I don’t care who you have to beat off.
You need to get to that attorney. Let’s find these people another place to stay.”

I grabbed his arm before he could answer the bell.
“There’s one more thing.”

The bell rang again. “I’ll make this fast. Marilee had a lot of money when she came to Grace House.”

Dan stopped abruptly and turned. “Are you sure?”

“That’s what Leona said. I think she was counting on Marilee’s money to get them set up in an apartment.”

“Where’d
—
never mind. There’s only one place she could have gotten it. How much money?”

“I don’t know. Leona didn’t know.”

“Well. Isn’t that interesting. Listen, meet me for lunch at the Yum Yum. We’ll talk then.
And you can tell me how your meeting went.” I got a quick kiss, and he headed for the door. I picked up the car seat and returned to the kitchen.

Aunt Mary was in her element. Rummage sales are her charity of choice. She isn’t choosey about the church they raise money for, or the cause. To her, they serve dual purposes. Money gets raised for causes that need it, and articles of clothing and household goods that are still perfectly good don’t end up on the trash heap before their time. Proof of her belief in the value of recycling goods through rummage sales is her own wardrobe. Most, if not all, of what she wears comes from them. The effect is often somewhat bizarre, but it doesn’t seem to bother her. So she isn’t patient with others who are a little more particular. Or perhaps a little less brave.

I walked into the kitchen to find her holding up a dark brown shapeless dress liberally sprinkled with red and yellow flowers. It was truly hideous. She was eyeing Marilee speculatively. “This will fit, and it will look lovely on you.”

“It’s too big.” Marilee could scarcely restrain her horror.

“Not much. And look. Buttons down the front.”

I thought Marilee was going to cry.

“I don’t think so.” Poor kid. Someone had to come to her rescue. “She looks cute and comfortable in what she has on. Find her another big shirt like that one and more soft pants. Where’s Gina?”

“At the bakery. She insisted. It had to do with yeast.” She pulled a pair of soft looking navy pants out of the pile. “How about these? Oh. Maybe not.” Her hand went through a huge hole in the knee. “Well, we’ll find something. Put all the stuff you girls can’t use aside. I’ll take it home later for the St. Stephen’s sale next month.”

The front door slammed. I started for the living room, only to meet Nathan and Anne, followed by Dan. He grinned at me and disappeared into the kitchen. We all followed him.

“Got to leave.” He refilled his mug then turned to address the crowd. “Listen up, everyone. Marilee is to stay in the house. She is not to be alone.
Anne, how about Leona?”

“Ruthie says she doesn’t need her today.”

Anne looked a little disgruntled at this. Leona didn’t. She brightened right up. The house would be empty. No one around to stop her taking that baby away from Marilee whenever she wanted. She stared at him as he started to squirm in his mother’s arms. I could almost feel her need to reach out and take him.
I could see Marilee shrink back a little and tighten her hold on her son.

Evidently Anne had seen it also. “I’d feel a lot better if we had someone to stay with both of you. I’m sure Grady wouldn’t dare break in here, even if he knew where you were, but still ...”

“I’ll stay.” There was Nathan, standing beside Marilee, looking down at her, gently touching the baby’s head. The smile he gave her was tender, the finger he used to stroke the baby’s head gentle. “I’m doing paperwork today and can do it here just as well as at the office.”

Marilee looked confused. She probably wasn’t used to men who were tender. She might be used to men grinning at her like sick puppies, though.

Leona scowled.

Anne glanced at me, rolled her eyes, and sighed. “Good idea, Nathan. I’ll feel a lot better knowing they won’t be alone.”

I sighed also and headed for the stairs and the shower. Aunt Mary called after me. “Gina and I will be here for dinner. I’ll bring meatballs.”

Dinner. I sighed again, longer and harder, and kept on going up the stairs.

S
am Butler’s office was on the second floor of one of the oldest buildings in town, the only one that had three floors. The top floor used to be the Odd Fellows Lodge. Dances were held here when women wore dresses with pinched waists and trailing skirts, and when the dresses sported fringe and knees were rouged as well as cheeks. During the Second World War it was the local service men’s canteen. The town girls handed out Cokes and cigarettes
and danced to big band music. The town matrons rolled bandages and watched. During the afternoon, people lined up to give blood.
It had been empty for years, a piece of our history quietly disappearing, until a group of local businessmen bought it. The transformation was not quite complete, except in Mr. Butler’s office. There, it was magnificent.

In Mr. Butler’s office, t
he original oak crown moldings, the door casings, and the high baseboards that sat on the well-worn oak floors were all in perfect condition. The heat and air-conditioning ducts were placed discretely so as not to detract from the elderly elegance of the room. His desk was a huge relic of a bygone era, but it gleamed with polish. So did he.
I
n
this small town
not many m
en
wore
suits. Wool slacks, khaki pants, sweaters over plaid shirts
—
if you wanted to get spiffed up
—
jeans, if not
.
T-
shirts and L.L. Bean jackets were the uniform of choice. Mr. Butler wore a gray suit with a subtle darker stripe through it, a stiff white shirt, and a red figured tie that I thought I’d seen in the Metropolitan Museum of Art catalog. He had a full head of very white hair, flinty blue eyes, and a stern look about his mouth. His nose was long and thin, his face was, of course
,
clean-shaven, and there wasn’t a trace of humor anywhere. This was not going to go well.

He gestured toward a green leather chair that sat in front of his desk.
S
traight
-
backed
with
no arms
, i
t was obviously not meant for either comfort or prolonged occupancy.

“Coffee?” The offer was made somewhat absently, out of polite habit. I had the feeling he would have been surprised if I had accepted.

“Thank you, no.”

He nodded and flipped open a file. “I’ve gone over this offer. You think this is a good price?”

I had brought the comparables that I had shown Anne and Aunt Mary the day before. Silently, I handed them to him. Silently, he accepted them.

Finally he leaned back in his chair and, with two fingers, rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Are these all of the inspections that are required?”

“All that are required for single family occupancy. There will be things required by the city before they will issue a conditional use permit.”

“Such as?”

“We’ll need one bathroom that is handicapped approved, windows that meet fire escape requirements, doorknobs fixed so toddlers can’t open them, things like that. I’ve put them in as contingencies and asked the seller to pay for them. It’s all there on page five.”

He almost smiled. He’d read page five carefully and probably knew every ordinance the city had ever dreamed up by heart. He wanted to know if I did also. “You’ve put together a good, solid offer. I don’t think we’re going to have to change much of this at all.”

I could feel a glow of pleasure creep over me. Several veteran agents had warned me about attorneys, about the problems some of them created. Of course, there were those who had saved the deal by knowing just what to do and doing it in a timely manner, but the others
—
the ones who were either determined to drag out their billable hours or to make sure everyone knew how vital they were to the transaction
—
seemed to be in the majority. At least they dominated the stories I’d heard. So I’d been prepared for multiple small changes, a nitpicking of minute points. I hadn’t been prepared for praise.

“I see you have left out the financing and title information.” He nodded as if this were a wise thing. I wasn’t about to tell him it was simple ignorance.

“Grace House is a charitable tax-free entity. I’ll supply escrow all of the information they need, if we get that far. As
for
the financing
…” He smiled, but it was a rueful smile, no mirth in any part of it. “It turns out that will be easy. We’ll be able to pay cash.”

That I was not expecting. “Cash?”

He nodded. “Surprised?”

“Well, yes. Nothing Anne or my Aunt Mary said led me to believe
…
I was expecting financing to be a problem.”

“Your aunt Mary?” One eyebrow rose slightly. “Are you Mrs. McGill’s niece?”

It was my turn to nod.

“Wonderful woman, Mrs. McGill. Very efficient.”

I tried hard not to laugh. “Yes, isn’t she.”

He looked at me a minute over the tent he’d made of his fingers. “There’s a good reason they didn’t tell you. They don’t know yet.”

I must have looked confused, because his smile got just a tad wider. “Doctor Sadler left all of his estate to Grace House. There’s more than enough money to buy this new house, and when the insurance claim for the fire is settled, there should be enough to fund some extras. That daycare center Anne keeps going on about, for instance.”

I
sat
very still. Rigid. I felt like crowing with joy for Anne, for all the women who needed Grace House so badly, but there was a sadness that it came from such a tragedy. Poor old Doctor Sadler.

“How long
…” I didn’t want to seem like a mercenary real estate agent only trying to quickly close a deal, but I
needed
to know what to tell the seller. I had an even larger obligation to the buyers. It was called fiduciary relationship. There was another real estate term that applied. Time is of the essence. Besides, I had a houseful of Grace House inhabitants that needed to go someplace else.

“Hmm, could take up to six months to settle his estate. Depends on court calendars, that kind of thing. And we don’t know how fast the insurance claim will be settled.”

I blanched. I had a horrible vision of Leona trailing around my kitchen the day after the wedding, eating leftover wedding cake and commenting on how someone should take down the Christmas decorations. She’d also be trying to take the baby out of Marilee’s arms, him screaming, Marilee protesting, me having a nervous breakdown. “I thought we could
…
maybe
…
offer to do an interim occupancy?”

He said nothing for a moment, just stared at me. I felt like I had in school, when I
’
d made a really dumb error and Mrs. Compton, my sixth grade teacher,
had
hand
ed
me back my paper and stare
d
at me in disgust.

Finally, he gave that small smile again. “Interim occupancy. You think you can get him to agree to that?”

“I don’t know. I can try.”

“Well, I’ll tell you what. I think I can offer a way to help convince him. Tell him we’ll close in ninety days, even if the estate isn’t settled, so we’ll only have to rent back for whatever period you can arrange. You should be able to get them in within a couple of weeks, if the seller is agreeable.”

“How can we do that?” I couldn’t believe him. He was an attorney! Where were we going to get the money, and exactly who was going to guarantee it would be there?

“Don’t look so horrified. Only I’m glad you are. Shows you’re thinking. I have some friends. If necessary, we’ll do a short term loan to Grace House. We will, of course, put it all in writing. Go see what you can do, and I’ll write up the occupancy agreement and the funding guarantee.” He finally
gave me a genuine
smile. “You actually seem pretty intelligent. I think we can get this one done.”

I didn’t know whether to
feel
complimented or to throw something at him for that rather condescending statement, but, given the circumstances, decided on neither. I stood up
,
rather dazed, and said, pointing at the offer still lying on his desk, “Can you sign that for me?”

“I can, but I won’t. Not yet. But I’ll have my secretary draw up an intent to purchase, outlining all the terms you’ve put in your offer, and the things you and I have just discussed. I’ll make sure he understands
that
the funds will be there if all of the other contingencies are met. See if we have an agreement in principle, and then we’ll draw up a contract. She’ll fax it to you.”

He handed me back my contract and comparables, checked to make sure he had copies in his file, and closed it. Our meeting was over.

I thanked him, at least I think I did, and turned to pick up my purse and briefcase from the floor beside my chair.

“Oh, Ellen, by the way
—may I
call you Ellen?
—
I’ll tell you one other thing.”

I turned to face the desk again, my mind more on how I was going to present my offer than what he was going to say.

“I’ve been Owen and Francis Sadler’s attorney for years.” The gravity, the grimness, of his tone caught my attention. “Grace House was everything to Francis. It was her wish that everything they had be left to keep it going.” He paused and once more rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Owen wasn’t so enamored. He felt that Anne was too soft. Wasn’t guiding some of the girls
…
women
…
with a firm hand.”

I found myself starting to protest. His hand went up. I stopped.

“Owen had some rather definite opinions. Anyway, he had decided to change their will
…
his
will. Grace House was going to be left only a token. I advised him against it, but he was adamant.”

I stood, unable to move, all kinds of things going through my mind. “Had he
…?”

“Signed it? No.
Our
appointment
was
tomorrow.”

I could feel my stomach turn over. Emotions were bombarding me on all sides. Relief that Grace House had been saved, horror
over
the way that it had been saved. Could this be the motive for the terrible way that Dr Sadler had died?

“Anne. Have you told her this? She will be so
…”