"T" is for Trespass by Sue Grafton Read Free Book Online

as her experience. She looked like someone who could walk you through an escrow without a hitch. If I’d been in the market for a house, I’d have bought one from her.
    She was leaning against the kitchen counter. Henry’d fixed her a vodka and tonic while he was having his usual Jack Daniel’s over ice. He’d opened a bottle of Chardonnay for me and he poured me a glass as soon as Charlotte and I had been introduced. He’d set out a bowl of nuts and a tray of cheese and crackers, with clusters of grapes tucked here and there.
    I said, “While I’m thinking about it, Henry, I’d be happy to help you clean tomorrow if we can finish before noon.”
    â€œPerfect. I’ve already told Charlotte about Gus.”
    Charlotte said, “Poor old guy. How’s he going to manage when he gets home?”
    â€œThat’s what the doctor asked. He’s not going to release him unless he has help,” he said.
    â€œDoes he have any family left?” I asked.
    â€œNot that I’ve heard. Rosie might know. He talks to her every other week or so, mostly to complain about the rest of us.”
    â€œI’ll ask when I see her,” I said.
    Charlotte and I went through the usual exchange of small talk, and when the subject shifted to real estate, she became more animated. “I was telling Henry how much these older homes have appreciated in recent years. Before I left the office, just out of curiosity, I checked the MLS for properties in the area and the median price—median, mind you—was six hundred thousand. A single-family residence like this one would probably sell for close to eight, especially since it has a rental attached.”
    Henry smiled. “She says I’m sitting on a gold mine. I paid ten-five for this place in 1945, convinced it was going to put me in the poor house.”
    â€œHenry’s offered me a tour. I hope you don’t mind if we take a minute for that.”
    â€œGo right ahead. I’ll be fine.”
    The two left the kitchen, moving through the dining room to the living room. I could track their progress as he showed her through the place, the conversation becoming largely inaudible when they reached the bedroom he used as a den. He had two other bedrooms, one facing the street, the other looking out onto his garden in the rear. There were two full baths and a half-bath off the entrance. I could tell she was being complimentary, exclaiming in a way that probably had some dollar signs attached.
    When they returned to the kitchen, the subject segued from real estate to housing starts and economic trends. She could talk downturns, yields on government bonds, and consumer confidence with the best of them. I was a teeny tiny bit intimidated by her confidence, but that was my problem, not his.
    We finished our drinks, and Henry put the empty glasses in the sink while Charlotte excused herself and retreated to the nearest bathroom. He said, “What do you think?”
    â€œI like her. She’s smart.”
    â€œGood. She seems nice and she’s well informed—qualities I appreciate.”
    â€œMe, too,” I said.
    When Charlotte returned, her lipstick had been brightened and she had a fresh dusting of blusher on her cheeks. She gathered her handbag and the two of us preceded Henry out the door, allowing him a moment to lock up.
    â€œCould we take a quick look at the studio? Henry told me he designed the space and I’d love to see what he did.”
    I made a face. “I should probably tidy up first. I’m a neatnik by nature, but I’ve been gone all day.” In truth, I didn’t want her casing the joint, calculating how much the studio would add to the asking price if she persuaded him to sell.
    â€œHow long have you been renting?”
    â€œSeven years. I love the location and Henry’s the perfect landlord. The beach is half a block that way and my office downtown is only ten minutes