No Hiding Behind the Potted Palms! A Dance with Danger Mystery #7 (49 page)

“Where are you right now? I know
it’s only ten, but maybe we could peek in the windows.”

“Actually, I’m supposed to be
looking at tubs. Want to join me?”

At that moment in time, I didn’t
really care that Jasper had a wife and kid. I just wanted someone
decent to know what a consummate con artist Kyle Hargrove was and
what he did to my best friend. I waited for him in the parking lot.
Jasper arrived less than ten minutes later. As I leaned up against
my Miata, I gave him an earful on that skunk. I got it all out of
my system. He waited until I was done ranting, suggested I take a
deep breath, and asked me if we could go look at the tubs. One look
at those green eyes reminded me that I was there for a reason. I
pulled myself together and I gave Jasper a bright little smile, and
then I invited him to join me in the plumbing showroom. Fifteen
minutes later, I was explaining the differences between fiberglass
and cast iron tubs as we wandered through the displays. I showed
him a concealed hand rail that would be a good safety feature for
his mother and we talked about whether a shower stall with a bench
would be better than a tub.

“Wow,” Jasper said when I explained
the costs and how we could cut expenses by tweaking things and
choosing different options that were similar in style. “If I just
picked these things out on my own, it would cost me thousands
more.”

“Most builders would probably love
you,” I laughed. “But we’re flippers. We’re in this to make a
profit and turn the house as quickly as possible. We have to make
the places we renovate really appeal to as many people as possible,
so we get a quick sale. The longer a property sits, the more we
pay. That’s why we stick with the classics, whether we do
contemporary or traditional style. Fad designs may look really
sleek, but they have limited appeal for buyers. It sounds terrible,
but it’s more practical to go generic, whether it’s flooring or
wall color. We always choose one thing to make a property pop, and
usually it’s something like a gourmet range in a deluxe kitchen, a
fireplace that’s a focal point, or a fantastic deck in the
backyard.”

“What are you planning for the
bungalow?” Jasper wanted to know.

“Why don’t we drive over there, and
I’ll walk you around the yard?”

“Sounds good.”

“Want to follow me?”

“I have a better idea,” he told me.
“Why don’t you drive me back to my car after lunch?”

Chapter Five --

Be still my heart. If only he didn’t
have a wife and kid.

“You mean take my Miata?”

“Why not? It’s a sunny day.” He
opened the door for me as we left the showroom.

“Are you sure?” I gave him a
mischievous grin. “Your hair might get roughed up.”

“Very telling, Suzanne.” He pursed
his lips and pointed a finger at me, nodding slightly, his eyes
narrowing. “You’ve defined yourself by your words. So, you think
I’m vain.”

“I didn’t say that,” I backpedaled,
thinking he was insulted by the comment. “What I meant
was....”

“What you meant was you’re so laid
back, you think a dress is something you put on once a year. What
you meant was you’re more comfortable in blue jeans and a tee shirt
than in a suit and silk blouse. And because I have to meet with
clients who have expectations that I can handle their finances, you
assume I’m a big, boring stiff who doesn’t know how to have a good
time unless I have gel in my hair.”

My jaw dropped open as I saw a new
side of Jasper, one I wasn’t expecting at all. He saw the look on
my face and started laughing.

“Close your mouth, Suzanne. You
might swallow a fly if you keep it open like that.”

“Huh,” I muttered, realizing I just
got my clock cleaned and I didn’t even know it needed it. His
comment about the blue jeans and tee shirt was a whole lot more
accurate than I cared to admit.

“Face it. You’re a reverse snob,
Dawkins. Anyone who dresses up is a heel. Anyone who dresses down
is a hero. The scruffier, the better. You assume a guy like me
doesn’t own a shirt without a collar and a little guy on a polo
pony. I can’t possibly have a pair of jeans with frayed cuffs. I’m
all image and no substance, right?”

“I...I....”

“Speechless? How refreshing. I
thought you were going to shove that size twelve sandal in your
mouth again.”

“Actually, I was going to
apologize,” I replied, regaining my composure. “The sandal is a
size eight, by the way. And as far as the frayed jeans are
concerned, I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Give me the keys.”

“Excuse me?”

“The keys. Hand them over. I’m going
to prove to you that I can handle the wind in my hair.” Jasper
leaned against the Miata. He ran a hand through his hair and turned
to give me a long look at his profile.

“That’s really not necessary,
Jasper. I was a jerk. I’m sorry,” I laughed nervously.

“Nope. No good. The keys. Or I don’t
buy the bungalow.” His long fingers wiggled as he extended his
expectant hand, waiting for me to put my key ring on his
palm.

“Not to worry,” I smirked. “Your
competition will.”

“Oh, good. You won’t mind Kyle
copping a feel, then?”

“Fine!” He caught the keys I tossed
him in mid-air, hopped behind the wheel without opening the door,
and honked the horn. “Hurry up, Dawkins. You’re
dawdling!”

“Just be careful,” I warned him. “I
need some transmission work.”

He turned the key, listening to the
hum of the engine, and then gently shifted into reverse. We turned
left coming out of the parking lot, crossed Mulberry Street, went
down two blocks, and hit the highway, where Jasper took the car up
to sixty-five. He took exit five, rolled down the ramp, and turned
right.

“It’s your timing belt,” Jasper
announced. “Not the transmission.”

“How do you know that?”

He gave me a big grin, fluffed his
hair again, and tapped me on the nose.

“I used to be a grease monkey. I can
change your oil, radiator fluid -- you name it. That’s how I paid
for college and grad school. My Uncle Larry owns a chain of repair
shops, and he always had a job for me.”

“Wow,” I grinned. “Maybe you do have
a pair of frayed jeans after all.”

Six minutes later, we pulled up in
front of the bungalow. Jasper dangled the keys in the air before
dropping them into my open hand.

“Lead the way, Suzanne. What goes on
here, at the front of the house?”

I took him around the property,
explaining where the parking area would be located and how the
planting beds would work. We found a wooden crate in the backyard
and used it as a makeshift step to peer through the windows along
the side of the house. I pointed out the bedrooms and shared the
plans for the sun porch.

“June will love this,” Jasper
decided. We sat on the back steps, looking out at the area where
the brick patio would go. “It’s perfect for her. Did you know she’s
an avid gardener? She grows some amazing tomatoes.”

“What kind of grandmother is she?” I
asked, wading into the deep end, where there was murky water
waiting for me.

“Great. She takes the kids all over
the place. She’s very hands on. Matthew’s turning eight. She goes
to all his soccer and hockey games. Gracie is six. She’s into
gymnastics. Owen will be two in September. He’s into
everything.”

“They sound like busy
kids.”

“Well, my sister tries hard. It
hasn’t been easy since Mark died.”

“Oh, how sad.” I knew he had an
older sister, but I had never met her.

“I relocated here for the last six
months of Mark’s life. I helped him set up his estate, move the
money into trusts for Julie and the kids. We talked about what he
wanted me to do with his insurance policy, how he wanted it
invested for his family. Luckily, he had one. June came back and
forth. Last time, when I took her to the airport to fly home to
California, she told me she wants to find a place here. I think
that’s a good idea, for her, as well as Julie and the grandkids. I
want to make sure June will get something positive out of
it.”

“What about your kids?” I wondered.
“How did they feel about the move?”

“My kids?”

“I saw the car seat when you gave me
a ride the other day,” I told him. He seemed confused momentarily,
before he suddenly understood.

“Oh, I picked up Owen from the
babysitter’s the other day. Julie had a meeting.”

I felt like a complete idiot. I’d
have kicked myself if I could have reached my own
behind.

“Does that mean you’re not
married?”

“No,” he replied, looking away. “Not
married.”

“But in a serious
relationship?”

“We’re taking a break, trying to
figure out what we’re going to do next. We seem to be headed in two
different directions. Helping Julie gave me a reason to take a step
back and reevaluate the situation.”

“That’s tough,” I told
him.

“No ring on your finger,” he noted.
I looked down at my hand and smiled. “Ever come close?”

“Closer than was wise. It turned out
that I dodged a bullet. He wasn’t the right guy for me.”

“Too bad. You’d probably make a good
mom.”

“Me?”

“Sure. You have a good sense of
humor, a great right hook, and you don’t take a lot of crap from
people.”

“That’s what makes a good
mother?”

“Absolutely.” He was watching me.
“Don’t you want kids?”

“Depends. No point in having kids if
I’m raising them by myself. I’m not a woman who wants to do it all
herself.”

“Interesting.”

“What are you people doing here?” A
gruff voice interrupted our conversation. Jasper and I both looked
up at the disgruntled man standing in front of us, with a broom in
his hand. “You’re trespassing!”

“No, we’re not,” I assured him.
“We’ve agreed to buy the place.”

“You can’t. It’s Rainbow’s house.”
He looked to be about fifty, with long, stringy grey hair, a
scruffy moustache, and wearing dungaree overalls without a shirt. I
felt like I was looking at Farmer Brown, the marijuana grower, and
he seemed to be one toke over the line.

“How’s that?”

“Rainbow will be coming back,” he
insisted. “You should leave.”

“You mean Susan Lefkowitz?” At least
that was the name on the deed. Somehow I had pictured a little old
lady as owner of the bungalow, since her family had formed a trust
for the house. But if Susan hung out with this guy, maybe she was
in need of family oversight.

“Her name is Rainbow
now.”

“She’s not coming back. Her family
is selling the house,” I said as kindly as I could.

“You can’t move in,” the man took a
menacing step forward and I heard Jasper take a breath, ready to
vault to his feet at the first sign of danger. “She’ll be back.
This is her home.”

“Well,” I said as comfortingly as
possible, “her family hasn’t been able to find her anywhere.
They’re quite concerned, so if you know anything, you should get in
touch with them. They’d probably appreciate talking to you. Do you
live around here?”

“Next door.” He shrugged in the
direction of the single story ranch tucked behind tall shrubs. “I
look after the place for her.”

“That’s nice. You’re obviously a
good neighbor. We’re going to start working here next
week.”

“Can’t” he told us again. “This is
Rainbow’s house.”

“Can,” I responded. “We bought it
from her family. If you have a problem with that, you should talk
to them.”

The glare he gave us seemed rather
hostile. I made a point of keeping eye contact because I didn’t
want him to think he was succeeding in scaring us off. Was it all
just bluster? His voice was strong in conversation, but I got the
sense his mind was addled. Maybe it was decades of drug use. Maybe
he was always this way. He seemed fixated on the idea of Susan
Lefkowitz as Rainbow. Could it be a New Age thing? I made a note to
myself to let Ned know we might have a problem. Just as quickly as
he came with little warning, he went the same way, turning
unexpectedly without another word and striding off.

“That was awkward,” Jasper decided,
as soon as Farmer Brown disappeared. “He seems pretty adamant that
she’ll be back.”

“I wish I knew what his name was,” I
said, more to myself than to Jasper. If Farmer Brown was going to
be a troublemaker, we would have to contain the crisis. The last
thing we wanted was the flip to flop, so to speak. The new owner
shouldn’t have to deal with harassment from an over-zealous,
over-protective neighbor with a tenuous grip on reality.

“Let me go talk to the guy.” Jasper
was on his feet before I could protest. “We’ll have a little
man-to-man.”

Who was I to discourage that,
especially if it yielded results? The truth was I was concerned
about Susan Lefkowitz. What if she was coming back? Did Farmer
Brown know where she went? Why did she leave without telling her
family and friends where she was going?