speculation. Development’s going to come to this area one of these days. Been renting it on and off, though the last lot was a horror, as the chief said. One of these days I’ll just tear the thing down and put it out of its misery.”
Bellingham. Her mother’s maiden name. The answer to every security question she’d ever been asked.
She floated to the room she’d stayed in when she slept over. Her mother’s room. Not that she would have recognized it. There was no trace of the white dresser or the pink chenille bedspread. An iron bedstead and a bare mattress occupied the space now. Looked like prison gear.
“Seen enough, young lady?”
She nodded and they trooped down the stairs. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Runkle said with a wink. “Wouldn’t blame you a bit not wanting to live out here. Still got that condo in town, if you change your mind. Nice hardwood floors. New appliances.”
They left the house and walked to the curb where Runkle’s car—a neon-blue Corvette—sat. “You just let Dennis Runkle know how he can be of help.”
And now the real reason Edie had set up this appointment. She fingered the tiny treasure inside her pocket and leaned against the passenger side door. Examined the car with bright eyes. Guy who owns a car like that had to be a little machine proud. “Nice wheels.”
Sure enough, he brightened. “You like cars?”
“Who doesn’t?” To distract him, she pointed to some gizmo on the dash. “What’s this?”
Runkle went off on a lengthy explanation of torque and rpms, explaining it as if she’d never heard the terms before.
Okay by her. While he was busy with show and tell, she slipped her little gift under the briefcase he’d laid on the front seat.
“Impressive,” she said when he paused for breath.
“Best money can buy.” He smiled proudly and reached for the briefcase.
Edie froze. Waited breathless to see what would happen. How he would react. A small thrill of anticipation ran through her.
But he only snapped the case open and brought out one of the Runkle Real Estate fans she’d seen at the picnic. He handed it to her, pointing at the logo. “Got my phone and email there. Keep in touch, young lady. I’m sure we can find something for you.”
“Thanks.” She gave him the smile she usually saved for customers and watched him go. He waved as he drove away.
When he was gone, she pulled out the crumpled list she’d carried everywhere for the last few weeks. Aunt Penny’s list. She stared at the five names like they were the magic keys to unlock the kingdom of revenge.
She’d seen Lyle at the picnic. Now Runkle. Three more to go.
The fun was only beginning.
11
D ennis Runkle was a satisfied man. Despite what Edie Swann had said, he had a feeling that black-haired mess of a circus act would end up taking the Bellingham house.
He paused leaving his latest appointment—another old relic on the east side. Time wasn’t right for east side development. But it would be. Yes, indeedy. Long as Hammerbilt stayed open. And if he could get this monstrosity at a good price, he’d own two nice properties on the east side of town, this and the Bellingham house.
He trotted down the sloping steps to the curb. Why did he keep referring to it as the Bellingham house? As he’d told the Swann woman, the Bellinghams hadn’t owned it in years. Not since… well he’d had enough of the past in the last few weeks to last him another twenty years.
Black angels, indeed.
Well, now that they’d buried poor Fred Lyle, talk should die down.
At the bottom of the steps, he took a moment to admire the convertible’s blue shine. He inhaled good fortune. Thought about the woman he’d just left inside the house. Poor thing. Now that her mother was dead she was free. Better late than never.
He remembered her when she was in school. Never pretty but always kind. What they used to call a good girl. And now. White-haired, dried up. Life had passed her
Bellingham. Her mother’s maiden name. The answer to every security question she’d ever been asked.
She floated to the room she’d stayed in when she slept over. Her mother’s room. Not that she would have recognized it. There was no trace of the white dresser or the pink chenille bedspread. An iron bedstead and a bare mattress occupied the space now. Looked like prison gear.
“Seen enough, young lady?”
She nodded and they trooped down the stairs. “I’ll think about it.”
“You do that,” Runkle said with a wink. “Wouldn’t blame you a bit not wanting to live out here. Still got that condo in town, if you change your mind. Nice hardwood floors. New appliances.”
They left the house and walked to the curb where Runkle’s car—a neon-blue Corvette—sat. “You just let Dennis Runkle know how he can be of help.”
And now the real reason Edie had set up this appointment. She fingered the tiny treasure inside her pocket and leaned against the passenger side door. Examined the car with bright eyes. Guy who owns a car like that had to be a little machine proud. “Nice wheels.”
Sure enough, he brightened. “You like cars?”
“Who doesn’t?” To distract him, she pointed to some gizmo on the dash. “What’s this?”
Runkle went off on a lengthy explanation of torque and rpms, explaining it as if she’d never heard the terms before.
Okay by her. While he was busy with show and tell, she slipped her little gift under the briefcase he’d laid on the front seat.
“Impressive,” she said when he paused for breath.
“Best money can buy.” He smiled proudly and reached for the briefcase.
Edie froze. Waited breathless to see what would happen. How he would react. A small thrill of anticipation ran through her.
But he only snapped the case open and brought out one of the Runkle Real Estate fans she’d seen at the picnic. He handed it to her, pointing at the logo. “Got my phone and email there. Keep in touch, young lady. I’m sure we can find something for you.”
“Thanks.” She gave him the smile she usually saved for customers and watched him go. He waved as he drove away.
When he was gone, she pulled out the crumpled list she’d carried everywhere for the last few weeks. Aunt Penny’s list. She stared at the five names like they were the magic keys to unlock the kingdom of revenge.
She’d seen Lyle at the picnic. Now Runkle. Three more to go.
The fun was only beginning.
11
D ennis Runkle was a satisfied man. Despite what Edie Swann had said, he had a feeling that black-haired mess of a circus act would end up taking the Bellingham house.
He paused leaving his latest appointment—another old relic on the east side. Time wasn’t right for east side development. But it would be. Yes, indeedy. Long as Hammerbilt stayed open. And if he could get this monstrosity at a good price, he’d own two nice properties on the east side of town, this and the Bellingham house.
He trotted down the sloping steps to the curb. Why did he keep referring to it as the Bellingham house? As he’d told the Swann woman, the Bellinghams hadn’t owned it in years. Not since… well he’d had enough of the past in the last few weeks to last him another twenty years.
Black angels, indeed.
Well, now that they’d buried poor Fred Lyle, talk should die down.
At the bottom of the steps, he took a moment to admire the convertible’s blue shine. He inhaled good fortune. Thought about the woman he’d just left inside the house. Poor thing. Now that her mother was dead she was free. Better late than never.
He remembered her when she was in school. Never pretty but always kind. What they used to call a good girl. And now. White-haired, dried up. Life had passed her
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