The Trouble With Murder by Catherine Nelson Read Free Book Online Page B

rental.
    “It’s Zoe Grey,” I said when she
answered. “I wanted to make sure we’re still on for tomorrow.”
    I heard a couple pages shuffle,
then she said, “Oh, yes. I’ve processed your application, so everything’s set
as far as that goes. As we discussed, a security deposit of eight hundred
dollars and the first and last month’s rent is all required up front.”
    “Or I could just sign over my
first-born child,” I said.
    She didn’t reply.
    “How’s nine o’clock?” I asked.
    “Fine,” she said, a little coldly.
“I’ll meet you at the property then.”
    I didn’t have keys yet. Fischer was
unwilling to hand over the keys until I handed over a couple thousand dollars.
I was unwilling to give her any money until I was sure the agreement would go
through. We’d arranged to do the paperwork first and the key/money thing on the
day of move-in.
    I was stuffing the phone back into
my backpack when it rang. I crossed my fingers it wasn’t Fischer calling back
to announce she would no longer be leasing me the house, that our deal was off.
Instead it was Mark White.
    “I take it you got my message.”
    “I did. And I’m glad you called.
There are some things I need to speak to you about. Can you come by my office?”
    White has a pleasant, smooth voice,
which I suspect is part of the reason he does so well in business. Today he
sounded drawn. Theft and subsequent legal troubles didn’t suit him.
    “What time?”
    “The sooner, the better.”
    “I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
    I kicked the Cushman to life and
motored out of the parking lot.
    Mark White has an office in the Key
Bank building on Howes Street downtown. Real estate mogul that he is, he has
lots of business ventures. He oversees them all from this central location. I
parked on the street, which was relatively empty, and went in. When the
elevator let me out on the fifth floor, I made a left and let myself into White
Real Estate headquarters.
    A smart-looking brunette greeted me
then pushed a series of buttons on her keyboard. As usual, Tandy, White’s
long-time secretary, looked perfectly attired and groomed, as attractive as she
was intelligent. I have always liked and respected her. Today, however, I
noticed her hair seemed a little flat and her suit slightly wilted. Even she
was feeling the stress of the current situation.
    A minute later, I heard a door open,
and White strode out to meet me. Our greeting was awkward. Then I followed him
into his office.
    “Can I offer you anything? Coffee?
Water?”
    He settled behind his desk and
smoothed his tie before folding his hands on the blotter. Always as smartly
dressed as Tandy, he, too, showed small signs of wear that would have gone
unnoticed by anyone who hadn’t seen him at his usual best.
    “No, thanks.”
    “Thank you for agreeing to meet
me,” he said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to call you back immediately.”
    White is nearing sixty, but only a
handful of people actually know this. He looks forty-five. No doubt his
religious workout routine and green goop vegetable shakes play a part in that.
Maybe some genetics, too. Tall, trim, athletic, he’s barely graying around the
temples, and his brown eyes are clear and sharp. He smiles easily, most days,
and has a friendly, open face. Behind it is a shrewdly intelligent mind that has
taken him far in life.
    “I’m sure your life is more
complicated since this morning.”
    He leaned back in his chair. “You
have no idea. I can’t believe — ”
He stopped and sat forward again. “Let’s start at the beginning. First, I know
you didn’t take that money.”
    “Thank you,” I said. That was a big
relief.
    He shook his head. “But I’m afraid
it isn’t that simple.” He took a breath. He seemed uncharacteristically
hesitant to tell me what was on his mind. “You should know, after Paige ‘fired’
you, he took all the ‘evidence’ to the police.” He used air quotes as he spoke,
and his face clearly