Red Julie (An Olivia Miller Mystery Book 2) (19 page)

Olivia nodded. “Yes, sounds like them.”

“You know them?” Hannigan raised his eyebrows.

“The son and I went out once. I didn’t care to continue the acquaintance. He didn’t care for that response. Neither did his father, who let me know how he felt when I went to the gala at their home. Which, by the way, I wouldn’t have attended if I wasn’t roped into going.”

“Sounds like their tactics,” Hannigan said. “They want something. They don’t get it. They become aggressive in their attempt to take what they want. Very entitled. I don’t think they are refused often.” He paused. “I would be careful of them, Olivia.”

Hannigan looked at the necklace in his hand. “This looks very valuable,” he said, and raised his eyes to Olivia’s as he passed the necklace back to her. “Martin had this?”

Olivia nodded. “Why would he put it in my pocket? If he wanted to give it to me, why wouldn’t he have just handed it to me?” Olivia asked.

Hannigan was quiet. He shook his head.

“Unless he didn’t want anyone else to see it,” Olivia said.

Hannigan’s face was serious.

“Why do you think the Siderovs wanted Martin’s house so badly?” Olivia asked.

“We assumed at first that he wanted to have it for guests or to expand his property. Then we thought he just became crazed over owning it because Martin wouldn’t sell,” Hannigan said.

“When I was at the gala, Siderov’s son called the house a ‘monstrosity’. He became visibly angry and agitated when he talked about Martin’s house. I found it odd…an overreaction,” Olivia said.

“A strange group of people,” Hannigan responded.

“Are they still pursuing the purchase with you?” Olivia asked.

“The representative contacted me shortly after Martin’s death to present another offer. I really don’t want the house, but I’ll be damned if I sell it to them. I told the representative never to contact me again or I would pursue a restraining order with the courts…against all of them.”

“How did the representative take that?” Olivia asked.

“Not well. He made a remark that I might come to regret holding onto the house. I blew it off, but in retrospect, and in light of this conversation, perhaps I should have taken it as a threat.”

“Has there been any contact since?” Olivia asked.

“None.”

“I have an appointment with Detective Brown later this week. May I pass this information on to him?” Olivia asked.

“Please do.”

“Do you have the real estate representative’s name?”

Hannigan rose and took a silver pen from his desktop. He wrote onto a pad of paper, pulled off the sheet, and handed it to Olivia. He had written: Michael Prentiss, Prentiss Property Management.

“This isn’t local. I’ve never heard of them,” Olivia said.

“I never kept a contact number as I wasn’t interested in speaking with them.”

Olivia put the paper in her jacket pocket. “Is anyone staying at your house now?”

“No, it’s empty. I have no intention of using it without Martin. And renting is a hassle I don’t need at the moment.”

“When I was at the gala, I saw several decks on your house that overlooked the Siderov property.”

Hannigan nodded.

“Is there access to the decks from the outside of the house?” Olivia asked.

“Yes,” Hannigan said. He thought for a moment. “Is there something you wish to see from the decks?”

“Maybe. I was thinking it couldn’t hurt to watch the Siderov place. Although I really don’t know what I’m expecting to see.”

“I can give you a key to the house,” Hannigan told her.

“No, I just want to use the decks. Someone being in the house might arouse suspicion.”

“Olivia…I’m not sure this is a good idea. What if these people are dangerous?”

“If they are dangerous, I think we both have reasons to find out just how dangerous they are.”

“Just tell the police. Let them investigate,” Hannigan suggested.

“My aunt died of a ‘heart attack’. Martin died…well…” Olivia’s words trailed off. “The police don’t seem to be helping.”

Hannigan nodded, his face a mix of sadness and anger.

Olivia held out the necklace. “This was in Martin’s possession just before he died. I don’t know why he gave it to me. I don’t know what he wanted me to do with it.” She extended her hand. “It belongs to you now.”

Hannigan shook his head vigorously. “No. I don’t want it.”

“Sell it then,” she said. “It must be worth a good deal of money.” Olivia just wanted Hannigan to take it from her, to free her from the obligation of figuring things out.

“I don’t want that necklace anywhere near me. It wasn’t anything Martin would own. I don’t know why he had it, but it wasn’t his. And if it had something to do with his death…” His voice trembled.

Olivia’s hand dropped into her lap. Her energy was gone. She didn’t know what else to do.

“Please don’t give up.” Hannigan’s face was serious. “It means something. We both know it. ”

Olivia nodded.

“Use the decks on the house,” Hannigan said. “See if you can discover anything about the Siderovs. But be careful, Olivia. Call me. Call me if you need anything,” he said. They shook hands and Hannigan walked Olivia out.

She believed the depth of his emotions. He couldn’t be involved in Andersen’s death.

A bell tinkled when Olivia opened the door of Streeter Real Estate and stepped inside. A stylish male receptionist greeted her with a warm smile. “Welcome to Streeter Real Estate. How may I help you?”

“Hi. I was wondering if Magdalene was around. I don’t have an appointment but was hoping to catch her if she was in.”

“I’m not sure if she’s available. She might be on the phone with a client. Let me pop into her office and see. Who can I tell her is inquiring?”

“Olivia Miller.”

The man stood but stopped in mid turn. He cocked his head slightly as if he was considering something. “Olivia Miller? Aggie Miller-Whitney’s daughter?”

Olivia nodded, surprised. “She was my aunt. My legal guardian. You knew her?”

“She did some legal work for me. She was a fine lady. I’m sorry for your loss.”

He went to check on Magdalene. He came out of her office almost immediately with Magdalene right on his heels. “Olivia!” she called cheerily as she bustled into the waiting area.

Oh no
, Olivia thought.
She thinks I want to sell my house
.

“So nice to see you. How have you been doing?” Magdalene said, her voice soaked with saccharine. “You haven’t opened the shop yet.”

“No. I’ve been busy getting things ready.”

“Come into my office.” She took Olivia by the arm. “What would you like? Tea? Coffee? Ice water with lemon?”

“Nothing, really,” Olivia said.

“Now, now. It’s so hot outside. What about some nice cool water?” She called over her shoulder, “Andrew, would you bring Olivia some water with lemon and some mint tea for me, dear?” She moved her lips close to Olivia’s ear. “Isn’t he handsome? So stylish. And smart and efficient, too. Wouldn’t I love to have him barking up my tree?” She let out a heavy sigh. “But, alas, he doesn’t like women.” She shook her head. Olivia chuckled inwardly, as if Andrew being gay was the only thing keeping him from having a romantic interest in Magdalene.

“Please, sit.” Magdalene gestured to the small sofa. Olivia sat down and Magdalene settled her considerable girth into a chair next to the sofa. The office was elegantly decorated with cherry wood furniture, cut glass lamps, original paintings by Ogunquit artists, and the sofa and chairs upholstered in shades of cranberry and forest green. It gave the impression of understated success, which surprised Olivia, since Magdalene’s manner and dress was anything but understated.

Andrew came in with a tray and placed Olivia’s water and Magdalene’s tea on the coffee table alongside linen napkins. He put a glass plate with small butter cookies in the center of the table. “Can I bring you anything else?” Andrew asked.

“No, Dear. Very nice. Thank you,” Magdalene told him with a bright smile. He left the room and she clucked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “All men should be like that.”

Olivia chuckled.

“What? You don’t think so? Just wait til you’re older.” She lifted her tea cup and sipped. “Now, Olivia. Have you been thinking about selling the house? Or the business, perhaps?”

“No. I’m keeping them,” Olivia said firmly.

Magdalene’s face hardened. “What brings you in then?”

“I was speaking with Rodney Hannigan yesterday…” Olivia started but was cut off instantly.

“Rodney Hannigan! I’ve been trying to meet with him for some time. Well, not specifically with him. With Martin Andersen. Until his passing, of course. But I have sent my condolences to Mr. Hannigan and offered my services should he ever wish to sell that magnificent home.”

“Yes, I believe he mentioned that.” Olivia did not relay the part that Hannigan thought Magdalene was a pest.

“And what did you talk to him about?”

“He said that he had been repeatedly approached by an agency that was very persistent in trying to acquire their beach property.”

Magdalene sat up straight, as if she needed to defend her territory against interlopers. “Did he name the agency?”

“Yes, and I wondered if you knew of them? It was Prentiss Property Management. Michael Prentiss was the man who contacted them.”

Magdalene’s face was screwed up as she thought. “Prentiss. No. I’m not familiar with them.” She went to her desk and tapped at her laptop. “Prentiss,” she said. “New York City? Well, then, I have some competition. New York City.” She looked at Olivia. “Is Mr. Hannigan amenable to the offer?”

“No,” Olivia said, and Magdalene’s face relaxed with relief.

“Good. Well, a client from New York is interested in that property, are they?”

“No,” Olivia told her. “Prentiss is representing the Siderov family.”

Magdalene looked as if she had been slapped. “What?” Her voice was shrill. Her jaw set and her eyes narrowed. “How dare they?”

Olivia looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“How dare those Siderovs use an outside agency. From New York? What does a New York agency know about the seacoast property of Maine? The Siderovs should have come to me, for heaven’s sake.” She sniffed. “Well, I believe that I will pay Mr. Siderov a visit.”

Olivia looked pained. “Oh, no, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Magdalene turned sharply to Olivia. “Olivia, I do know how to run my business.”

“I just mean that I don’t want to be brought up to the Siderovs,” Olivia said. “And I’m sure Mr. Hannigan would prefer not to be mentioned.”

Magdalene moved her hand about in the air. “Oh, my. I certainly know how to be discreet.”

Olivia raised her eyebrows. “I…they…”

“What?” Magdalene asked. “Come, come. What are you stumbling over?”

“I just think that maybe they aren’t the usual customers. They…seem…well, I wonder if they could be dangerous,” Olivia said.

“Olivia, do you have some reason to suspect them to be so?” Magdalene asked with an edge of impatience.

“Not specifically.”

“These people are incredibly wealthy,” Magdalene went on. “Just the sort of client I prefer. They could be the means to many fruitful contacts.”

“Well, if you find out anything about Michael Prentiss and his company, would you let me know?”

“My I ask what your interest is in all of this?” Magdalene said.

“My interest is in the Siderovs’ desires and means,” Olivia said stiffly. “I want to know if they’re up to something. If you or any of your contacts can shed some light on them, I hope you’ll share the information with me.”

“Of course I will. I’ll ask around. Discreetly, mind you.” Magdalene pushed herself out of the chair. The meeting was over. “Thank you for stopping by, Olivia.”

“Why do you talk me into doing these things?” Brad said. “It’s just like when we were little kids.” They walked along Perkins Road and when they approached the brick driveway to Martin Andersen’s house, they looked ahead and behind for any cars or walkers headed in their direction. The coast was clear, so they jogged down the driveway and to the left side of the massive contemporary structure. A wide bluestone and granite walkway edged around the house to the side facing the ocean. The walkway led to a splendid patio in the middle of a wide expanse of manicured lawn. Granite containers spilled with petunias and impatiens. The edges of the patio were landscaped with sea grasses, hydrangeas, and Rosa rugosa. Chairs and lounges were scattered around the patio. A small lap pool glistened in the early evening light. A teak wood staircase rose to the first level deck along the side of the house facing the Siderov property.

“This is fantastic,” Brad said, taking it all in. “That Hannigan guy is certainly keeping the place up.”

“Come on, Brad. Let’s go up to the first level deck,” Olivia said.

They each carried a small duffel bag. On the deck, they crouched down and gazed at the view from their perch.

“No wonder the Siderovs want this place. Almost every inch of their property is visible from here. The view must be even better from the third level deck,” Brad said.

“Let’s go see,” Olivia suggested. They took the staircases to the third level. “Look at this.” They had a perfect view of the lawn, house, and driveway of the Siderovs. They sat low on the floor of the deck, peering through the slats in the railing.

“Ha,” Brad said. “No privacy at all for those bastards.” He took out two pairs of binoculars from his duffel. Olivia lifted two cameras and a zoom lens from her bag.

“Let’s settle in,” she said.

“Next time we come, let’s bring cushions to sit on. This wooden deck isn’t the most comfortable thing in the world,” Brad said.

Olivia smiled and handed him a sandwich. “Here, this will help you pass the time more comfortably.”

“You think of everything.” Brad munched. “What do we expect to see?”

Olivia sighed. “Who knows? Probably nothing.”

Over the next three hours, the light of the day faded and the Siderov estate became veiled with darkness. Olivia and Brad passed the hours chatting and observing the property, watching servants walk a dog and water hanging flower baskets on the veranda of the Victorian. There was a delivery of fresh flowers from a florist truck. Neither the Siderov father nor son made an appearance.