Catharine Bramkamp - Real Estate Diva 05 - A 380 Degree View (27 page)

“ I lost my dad.” She finally said into the quiet.

“I lost my baby.” I said it out loud for the first time.

Penny did me a service and ignored my pain in favor of her own. It could have been my own admission, or not, but something broke in her and her story flowed out. I usually do get people to talk about themselves, ad nauseam, but this was different. She wasn’t looking at me; she was looking through me to her memories. I realized I may just be in the way, but it was too late, she started to talk.

“He tried to burn it.  After everything he knew, he still tried to stuff it into the fireplace.”  She studied the paneling in the study. What wasn’t covered in glass was lined in beautiful walnut.  “I mean, look at all this wood. The house would have gone up in a second.”

Burn the quilt? Was he trying to get the quilts out of the house before her public tour?  Was he trying to burn the place down? Have them both perish in the fire?  That made no sense. Lucky was a survivor.

“I grabbed it. I’m stronger and younger of course. I won.”

I envisioned a grim game of tug of war with a thick unwieldy quilt between them, dangerously close to a burning hearth.  Penny was stronger, but maybe Lucky was more determined. Did he intend to create an accident?  If the walls of this house were filled with the same material, it would indeed have consumed more than the down town fire department could forestall.

“He fell.” Penny voice was toneless. “Hit his head on the fireplace.”  She shrugged,  “I thought he was already dead.”

“No, you didn’t.” I looked her in the eye. She looked away first.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s done isn’t it?” Her shoulders sagged in defeate. I did not know what to do, what to say.  Did it matter? Was there enough money for Penny’s defence?

“It’s all done,
Mattie is gone, Raul is gone, no one will know.”

I shifted, clutching the long carpet nap with my bare toes.

“And you won’t be telling tales either.”  From behind the papers she pulled out a handgun. A nice, shiny, new handgun.

I stepped quickly back.  “But I just listed your house!  Houses!”

Her mouth quirked to almost a smile. “I had a moment of weakness. You can always fix those moments of weakness, that’s what Dad taught me.”

              It was a beautiful day, the clear blue sky arched from mountaintop to mountaintop. Fluffy clouds, dry air, the works.

“Beautiful view.”

Her hand, unfortunately, did not waver.

“Yes, my dad loved this view. He originally created it for my mother, but when she died, he left me here and moved to town. He said he wanted to be close to the action.

“He could have been lonely out here.”  I offered the idea to, you know, humanize the situation.

“No, he just wanted everyone to see his coming and going, he wanted the attention.”

“We all want attention.”

Penny turned the gun in her hands round and round, I couldn’t tell if, (what is it called?) the safety was on or off.  Does that mean the damn thing could accidentally go off?   How would it feel to be accidentally shot?  I swallowed and watched the gun move around, the metal flashing between her fingers.  

“He drove my mother crazy, really crazy, for real. He was always looking for the advantage. Everything we owned was a fucking bargain, something he got for a song, or for nothing. And he didn’t do anything that didn’t directly benefit him, you know?   All that crap about helping the community, nonsense, it was all about helping Lucky Masters do what he wanted.”

The gun paused in her restless hands as she gazed out one of the windows: her unparalleled view. “She was right you know, that widow woman?”

“Mattie Timmons?”  I supplied helpfully. I kept my eyes rigidly on Penny and on her twisting turning gun. She fondled it like worry beads.

“The spray foam was toxic and flammable. I suppose if the fire hadn’t killed the residents, the long term exposure might.” She shrugged.

“There was no proof of that.”

“None, I remember when the manufacturer pulled the material. Dad was really mad since the next cheapest thing cost twice as much.  You should have heard him, it was as if they stole money from him. It was all about the money.  See this?” She gestured at her office with the gun. I couldn’t keep my eyes off the weapon. 

“This was to show off to the community that Lucky could build what he wanted, where he wanted, all it took was money.”

I said carefully. “That is often right.” 

She shook her head. “There ought to be something to stand for besides money.  I never found it,” she said mournfully. “You people never liked me.”

Well, she wasn’t exactly likable. I suddenly remembered a story that circulated when I was still a teenager. Every Fourth of July, one of the teenage girls is voted Liberty Queen and rides in the Claim Jump parade. Penny was Liberty Queen three years in a row because Lucky bought hundreds of her raffle tickets and influenced the judeges.  She didn’t have to work for her win.

              I would love the easy win, even just once.  Except that today was not an easy win day, it was very likely a difficult lose day. I have faced guns before, but the last time I had, Ben had come charging in to save me.  I didn’t think that would be the case today. There was no reason for him to follow me. Everything was fine, and we were all happy and safe in our little bubble of goodwill. It suddenly occurred to me that routinely checking in with a loved one might not be the paranoid and subservient activity I had previously thought.

I had things to do, people to marry.              I edged around the circumference of the room; it felt round because of the large windows and low built-in shelves. The expansive view pulled the eye out and you missed the corners and angles in the inside.  I turned and turned again. Penny followed me with the gun like an awful carnival game: shoot the Realtor.

“So, you’re a pretty good shot,” my voice wavered, damn.

“I’m a terrible shot. My father tried to teach me. Bought me my own gun for Christmas, that was just a swell gift, I wanted a new sewing machine.  He wanted me to be the son he never had.  I wasn’t good at it. I hated it.  But it does the job, even if you aren’t that accurate.”

Oh good, I could just bleed to death from a stomach wound. Did that happen? I was behind on my television shows and mystery novels. I couldn’t remember the salient details and of course, my brain wasn’t exactly working at optimal levels. It was barely working at all.

I edged to the double French doors leading out to a small deck cantilevered over the valley below. It was quite a drop. How Lucky got THAT approved is mystery. No, I could solve at least that one, he probably just bribed the inspector. It’s done all the time.

I opened the door and stepped out, making her follow. I couldn’t reach the stairs and there wasn’t anywhere else to go inside, except round and round, outside there were more distractions, some dodging room. In the back of my imagination I figured I might as well die beautifully and dramatically in the open air.  I gripped the railing that seemed stable enough, but it was too low, I remembered Ben said Lucky didn’t want to obstruct the view.

Penny followed me out.  I miscalculated, there was less maneuvering room on the cantilevered deck than I imagined.  The deck was not big enough for the two of us, the madwoman and her victim.  She lunged at me, gun raised and aimed right at my stomach (the largest target on my body).  I automatically deflected her hand and pushed her with my shoulder. I was barefoot and had better traction and grip on the damp deck wood. She teetered on her perfect high heel shoes. She wavered for a second, caught her balance and raised the gun again.

              I dodged again, more from instinct than talent or training. The gun went off and the shot reverberated through the valley. Startled birds rushed from their perches and cried up to the sky. I imagined my soul was about to do the same. 

I tried to grab the the gun, she shot again but the bullet just grazed me. The stab of pain cleared my head and banished the images conjured by my morbid imagination. I shot forward and grabbed the gun harder and tugged with all my might. She loosened her grip and I jerked the hot gun downward, desperately hoping I could avoid shooting myself in the foot.  

She staggered and I pushed her again to gain more space between the two of us. Penny toppled back against the railing and it caught her just under her butt. She waved her hands to balance. I threw the gun behind me. It bounced on the wood deck once and then was silent. I was too distracted to care. 

Her arms flailed, then pin wheeled, then suddenly stopped. She was over balanced, the edge of the railing that I had just found so comforting a few seconds ago was, as I said, too low. I lunged forward and tried to grab her with my right hand and pull her back. But her hand missed mine. She overturned. The momentum from my push, her overbalanced height and those treacherous shoes did the trick. In a blink she disappeared over the railing.  It was like a magic trick, one second she was there, then nothing, my hand grasped empty air. 

I did not hear a sound after that. The whole world was still, holding its breath. A second later the birds began singing an odd, off key song.

The breeze was cold. My feet were cold. I huddled against the too low railing and tried to catch my breath. I had go inside to call Tom on the phone line. I knew not to call 911, we didn’t want this in the paper.  I could tell Tom any story I wanted, yet I would probably stick to the truth, it’s easier to remember in the long run.  I had already learned that regardless of what the truth was, the survivors get to write the story.

The day ended with a promise of summer.  Ben and I walked downtown hand in hand, except when the sidewalk was so narrow we had to walk single file.  I only limped a little, the gun graze was only worth two SpongeBob Band-Aids.

We walked past the coffee shop and up to Lucky’s house. My sign waved cheerfully in the afternoon air.

“This won’t sell for a while. I’ll have to be up here a lot, and I’ll probably list poor Penny’s house as well. Do you mind? You can come with me, we can pretend we are away on an illicit getaway and stay in Prue’s apartment, that seemed to work for us.”

Ben stood at the fence and flicked a chip of paint off one of the fence staves.

“Except for the fire.”

“You are pretty hot.”

He smiled at me but his attention was on the house.              “Do you think the house is tainted?  You know, bad juju because of Lucky?”

I shook my head.  “Buyers from Sacramento or the Bay Area don’t even care about Lucky Masters.  After a couple years, it won’t matter.”

And tomorrow I’d get rid of the baby doll heads. Poor Penny was unstable certainly, vengeful, definitely.  Even as we spoke, Tom and his deputies were searching for the gun, failing that, he assured me the bullet lodged in the deck would most likely match the bullet in poor Mattie. That much was certain. What is not certain was  if Penny intended for every resident of Claim Jump to die in an accidental fire.

Ben nodded “That’s true, so you could reinterpret the situation, so to speak, if you wanted.”

“I can do anything I want,” I countered automatically.

“I like staying with your grandmother. She’s great, but I think we’d be more happy with our own place.”

“That’s been the conversation for months now.”  I said it as gently as I could, I didn’t want to startle him, but every once in a while I felt the need to state the obvious.

“I know.  I like this house.”

“What?”  I didn’t say it as loudly as it looks on paper.  I said it very softly. Because, Mr. Ben Stone, Rock Solid Service had not uttered these words about any house, in any county.

“You do?”  I pushed a bit just a bit. I liked this house too.

“Yes, I do.”

“I thought you liked Penny’s house.”

“I do. But it’s too far out of town and you want to be in town.”

“I do, but are you sure?”

“I’ll pay you 1.4 for it.”  I knew Ben was serious, he had the money, and he had the desire. He had me at “I like.”

“It’s listed for 1.8” I pointed out, muscle memory, I can’t help it, negotiation is automatic.  But Penny would have agreed to a lesser offer. She had said that.

“I have a feeling the estate will take the offer.” 

“You are probably right, especially since it needs a lot of work.” 

“Of course it does,” Ben agreed pleasantly. “You’ll have to divide your time between here and River’s Bend until you sell your house.”  

“You mean you’d live here full time?”  I gripped one of the fence staves it gave slightly, dry rot.  Damn.

I looked up at the house. I loved the widow’s walk, I loved the kitchen flooded with sunshine, I loved that it was walking distance to every restaurant and bar in town. Hell, we would be smack in the middle of everything.

“You like to be close to all the action,” he commented.

              “Nothing happens in Claim Jump,” I insisted doggedly.

“No,” he hugged me. “Of course not.”

Continue on with Allison

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