Cemetery of Angels by Noel Hynd Read Free Book Online Page A

business.”
    Outside there was a friendly sound of a breeze. Then something passed over the sun. There was a creeping shadow for a second, and then the brightness returned.
    “Anything else about the property I should know about?” Bill asked. “Or the location?” Essie pursed her lips.
    “I don’t think so,” she said.
    “Seven forty, huh?” Bill asked. He looked at his wife. “Wow! That’s a pile of dough. Becca and I will have to talk about it.”
    “Don’t talk too long,” Essie warned. “Century 21 is showing 2136 Topango this afternoon. I wouldn’t want them to sell your future home out from under you.”
    “I won’t be rushed into a decision, Essie,” Bill said.
    “I’m just warning you, dear,” Essie said. “I wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”
    “Of course not,” Rebecca said. She took her husband’s hand and gave it a squeeze. After a moment, the squeeze was reciprocated.

Chapter 5
    That evening at dusk, Bill and Rebecca Moore set out in their car and toured their prospective neighborhood. They started to like it just a little more. It was a highly atmospheric section of Los Angeles, quiet and detached from the hubbub of downtown LA and its commercial center, or even Beverly Hills and Hollywood.
    The area was an island of quiet and serenity. Immediately surrounding them were several blocks of old houses with tall leafy trees along the streets. At one point, Bill and Rebecca stopped their car, parked it, got out and did the strangest of all Los Angeles activities. They walked. They felt the cool breezes of evening caressing their faces. Here and there was a whiff of jasmine, even out of season.
    “You know,” Bill said as they walked, “in its way, it’s fascinating. If you focus on the houses, and phase out the cars, certain blocks haven’t changed much since the 1920s.”
    She agreed. She had noticed the same thing.
    “I like it,” Rebecca said. “You know I like it.”
    “I like it, too,” he said. “I wonder if it’s snowing back East yet.”
    “In July, right?”
    “It gets cold in New England,” he said with a straight face. They both laughed. They went back to their car. For a moment they both sat, entertaining similar thoughts. “I wonder how badly we can lowball the estate,” he said.
    “I don’t want to be greedy,” she said.
    “It’s not a matter of greed. It’s a matter of making a shrewd business deal. For us.” He paused. Then, “First, do we want the house?” They searched each other’s eyes.
    “I think we’ve already made that decision,” she said.
    “Okay. Let’s get really gross,” he said. “Let’s offer seven hundred flat.”
    “You’re disgusting,” she said. They both laughed. Then…
    “Well?” he asked.
    “I’m your supportive wife,” Rebecca said.” Go for it.”
    Bill phoned Esther Lewisohn the next morning. The Moores entered a bid for $700,000 for the house at 2136 Topango Gardens. Mrs. Lewisohn gagged, choked, and for a few seconds tried to talk him into some higher numbers.
    But Bill Moore was hearing none of it. He hung up the phone and congratulated himself on his keen way of doing business.
    Essie called back an hour later to say that the offer had been declined. Ted Nickels would negotiate, she said, but he didn’t want to be insulted.
    “What’s that mean?” Bill asked.
    “It’s Ted’s pidgin legalese for, ‘Make a better offer, you’re close,’” Essie said. “He’s a cheap son of a gun, you know. But he will be anxious to close the deal.”
    “Hardball him,” Moore said. “Tell him you don’t think I’ll budge.”
    “He’ll still try to move you up some,” Essie warned.
    “No matter what I offered, he’d try to move me.”
    “I’ll call you back,” she said.
    Ted Nickels sat on the offer for two overnights. He said he’d talked to the inheritors of the estate. He could make a deal for $710,000, he had said. But only if the paperwork were handled quickly.
    Bill and Rebecca