I hedged. “Somewhere. I can’t place it.”
“Well, if you do, please let me know.”
“I will. And if you happen to see Greta, would you please let her know I need to talk to her? I can’t finish the job in her backyard without her permission. And right now she’s refusing to speak to me.”
132
Heather Webber
Kate’s eyes widened.
“You seem concerned.”
“Well, as it is, the yard is still an eyesore.”
It really was, all torn up, yard debris everywhere. I cringed because I hated leaving a job undone.
“Despite what you heard, the homeowner association’s lawsuit is still in effect, Ms. Quinn.”
“Nina, please. And what does that mean?”
“It means that Greta has until the end of the month to re-pay the dues and to have the yard fixed or the house will be foreclosed upon.”
“Does she know this? What if she’s under the impression the suit has been dropped?”
“I’ll have the lawyers get in touch with her again. Now that Russ is out of the picture, I can’t imagine there being any issues or that she’d follow through with her threats to sue you. She needs you if she wants to save her house.”
That made me feel better.
As I drove away I slowed in front of the Lockharts’ house.
There was a small SUV in the driveway that had a local real estate agent’s logo on it. I pulled up to the curb as a woman pulled a For Sale sign out of the hatchback.
I leaned out the passenger window. “Excuse me, is this house for sale?”
She perked right up, sensing a sale. “Officially on the market tomorrow.”
Interestinger and interestinger.
“Really? It’s such a lovely house. I can’t imagine anyone moving from it? Was it a job transfer?”
She came up to my window. “No, just not enough space for the family anymore.”
My foot.
“They’re actually moving into Vista View . . . heard of it?”
133
I knew it quite well. It was a neighborhood of half-million- to multi-million-dollar homes.
Bill and Lindsey were movin’ on up.
Now that they could afford it? Because Russ was dead?
I thanked the agent, who looked put out that I didn’t make an appointment to look at the house, and headed toward Growl thinking that the motives for killing Russ were stacking up against Bill.
Fifteen
Growl had been in business for about a year now, and doing quite well as far as I knew. The parking lot was almost full when I pulled in. The building was a modern design, all sleek lines and dark stone. In a former life it had been an upscale coffeehouse.
I wondered if Bill was working. And if I could find out more information about those accounting books.
Inside, the place was jumping. I looked around for Riley and found him at a register, taking orders. He looked awfully cute in his dress shirt and nice pants, both black. Not that I’d ever tell him so. He still got defensive about those kinds of things.
He spotted me and held up a wait-a-minute finger. I took the opportunity to look around, see if I could spot Bill.
There were three registers in use, and a mix of patrons ranged from young gen-exers fresh from the office, to scrubby looking teens, to senior citizens looking for a dis-count. I spotted two vegetarian T-shirts. The majority of people seemed to be in their twenties and thirties, business types if the suits and sensible shoes were any indication.
Growl had accomplished what many other places hadn’t—
bridging the age gap and closing the financial divide.
135
The lines were long, yet people didn’t look impatient.
Someone walked by me with a tray of food that smelled heavenly but looked horrible. Too many green and slimy things on the plate. Spinach, I think. And some marinated mushrooms.
