I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (3 page)

Max was having a toast and coffee breakfast while going over some paperwork that his accountant had sent him.  He was thinking back to 2001, the year that he purchased the apartment building on US Route 1A, known locally as White Boulevard.

Only three of the eight apartment units were occupied.  The previous owner had not kept up on the maintenance and had pressured his tenants to pay their rents in cash.  The poor management procedures ultimately led to a threat of foreclosure from his mortgage holder.  Max contacted him and offered to buy the property.  The seller balked, but eventually he agreed to sell.

Max and his lender negotiated a financing commitment and he had the apartment units renovated, exterior repairs made, grounds re-landscaped and a new heating/cooling system installed.  He moved into a top floor apartment and set up one of the bedrooms as a home office.

A local realty office was charging reasonable fees at the time and was hired as the exclusive rental agent for the property, known now as Hargrove House, a Limited-Liability- Company with C. Maximilian Hargrove as the Sole Proprietor. Within three weeks, six units were rented.  A downsized, one bedroom basement apartment, on the same level with a heating/cooling room, a utility room, and a coin-operated laundry room, remained vacant.

The accounting papers that Max was scanning, this April morning, showed a change in his rental operation dating back to 2004.  He thought back to that one evening at Jerry’s Pub, as he was having a late supper and martinis, an old acquaintance which Max hadn’t seen since his army days in Kuwait, approached him.

“Captain Hargrove, I presume” he said along with a brisk salute.

“Sergeant Grover!” exclaimed Max, “Skip the salutes; I left that back at the discharge station a long time ago.”

Bruce Grover had been in charge of maintenance of the barracks at the last base where they served on active military service during the “Desert Storm” campaign in Iraq. Max invited Bruce to sit and ordered him a beer.

Bruce Grover was a civilian now, and he was in the area looking for work.  Grover was a drifter, and still a bachelor.  He was ill-at-ease with people in general.  He was a stocky man of medium height, in his late forties. His head had had lost most of its hair.

Although he was heterosexually inclined, he did not have an abundance of respect for females.  Rejection by the opposite sex, socially, was a common occurrence with Grover but he compensated by doing business with prostitutes.  They were paid to be civil and they usually were, at least until his time was up.

Max and the old acquaintance spent time reminiscing about military days, the only thing they had in common, and they parted ways around 10:00 o’clock.  Having given Bruce Grover a business card, Max told him he would check around for possible employment and suggested that Bruce call him in a few days.  When Grover called Max, a week after their reunion at Jerry’s, they agreed to meet at Max’s apartment building.

Max had been handling the daily dealings with tenants himself and had hired helpers to assist in the maintenance chores over the years since he bought the property.  It was eating into his business pursuits, time wise, and he had been thinking of hiring a full time maintenance man.

Grover drove up in a high-mileage, twenty-year-old pickup truck that showed wear, but was mechanically sound.  Max showed Grover around and offered him a job as maintenance and grounds keeper with a moderate allowance and use of the vacant basement apartment at no cost. Grover accepted, ready to move in and start immediately.

A storage barn behind the building served as an out-of-sight garage for the truck.  Max felt that the dilapidated looking truck distracted from the overall upscale image of the apartments.

Maggie had met Bruce Grover and, having heard about how he and Max knew each other, and after being pressed afterwards by Max for her initial impression, she gave a rather tactful non-opinionated response.  In reality, Maggie was rather repulsed by Grover but, since she wasn’t sure of Max’s attitude toward him, she reserved any judgments until she came to know Grover a little better.

Max had finished his paperwork and was leaving the apartments for an appointment this Saturday morning. Bruce Grover, returning from a trip to the village center for coffee and a newspaper, pulled into the apartment driveway and circled around to his parking area behind the main building. As he stepped out of his truck, Max called out his name.

“Hey Bruce, hold up a minute.”  Startled, Bruce turned and waved as Max approached him.  “I’m on my way to an appointment and I just got a call from Unit 2A,” Max said, “They’ve got a stoppage in the shower drain again.  Isn’t that the woman with the big hairdo?” he asked.

“Yeah, right, I’ll check it out.”  Grover responded brusquely.  At that, he turned on his heel and walked toward the rear entrance to his apartment.

Max was surprised at Grover’s abruptness.  He had noticed a recent change in Grover’s demeanor.  As Max had come to know him, he felt that Grover did not have a confidence about him that one would expect from someone of his age and experience.  A straightforward conversation with Grover was hardly ever completed with direct eye contact. One could readily come to the conclusion that something was being withheld, but one would not care to know what it was.  Simply put, Grover was not a “people person”

The recent change which Max noticed was that Grover had become almost pompous.  He seemed to act as though he had finally risen up, from his self-imposed inferiority, to everyone else’s level.  It even got to the point that he seemed cocky, even smug.

Perhaps
Bruce is getting ready to move on. He is a drifter, after all.
Max thought as he walked to his car. He was late for an inspection, with Maggie, of a commercial property which was in receivership. On the way to the appointment Max kept thinking about what his options were if Grover decided to quit.

Obviously the free apartment unit, part of his compensation, would have to be vacated.
He thought.  This didn’t bother Max too much.

His mind flashed back a few weeks to when there had been a complaint about noise during the late hours from the couple living in the apartment unit directly above Grover’s apartment.  Also, a complaint came from another tenant, an older woman, who voiced her concern over a loud argument which she had “overheard through the apartment door” while she was coming out of the laundry room.  This hadn’t concerned Max then because he thought the woman might have been eaves-dropping.  Both of the incidents, however, had occurred within recent weeks, ever since a woman Grover referred to as his girlfriend, had moved in to share his apartment.  Although Max had talked with Grover concerning routine maintenance matters during this time, the new occupant had not been mentioned.

As he drove on, Max mentally reviewed what he knew about the new girlfriend.  Always concerned about who was living in his apartment building, he had inquired about her and had gotten this information from Jerry Pippin:

Carina “Carrie” Slavonic was a young woman who had recently been befriended by Grover and had moved in with him.  Her parents were emigrates from their homeland in Yugoslavia to Great Britain and had established residence in London, England.  From London she came alone, to New York City, on an educational visa.  Why she had shown up in East Wayford was not known to Jerry Pippin.

Max had only recently met Carrie when, as he was leaving for his office one morning, he noticed her and Grover talking animatedly in the apartment driveway.  She was in her Porsche, starting to leave, and Grover, as he was leaning into the driver’s window, give her a kiss!  When Grover noticed Max, he whacked his head on the car door frame as he jerked back to an upright standing position in the driveway.  He tried to wipe a smear of lipstick from his face with his shirt sleeve as he was rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head.

My god,
he’s jerking around like a puppet with the strings crossed!
Max thought.

“Hey Bruce, have I met the new guest?”  Mac queried mockingly.

“Oh yeah, uh, no, I mean this is my girlfriend Carrie, Carrie this is my friend Max” he said, as the cars idled next to each other.

Max got out of his car and went over to get a close up view of the attractive young driver.
Did he say girlfriend? What would a young, good-looker like her see in a dead-ender like Bruce Grover?
Max pondered
.

A generous whiff of heavy perfume wafted out of the window of the Porsche.

“It was nice meeting you Carrie, I like your car” said Max, using his most tactful tone. There was no response from Carrie whatsoever.

“I’ll catch you later, Bruce” he continued.  With a puzzled look on his face, Max got back into his car and drove away.  In his rear view mirror he caught a glimpse of the Porsche burning rubber out of the driveway as it sped off in the opposite direction.

Max’s cell phone showed that Maggie had called earlier that morning.  As he drove to his office he dialed back.  While swapping recaps of current events, Max told Maggie about having met Grover’s new girlfriend.

“Oh, that sounds exactly like that new sales trainee that Francine hired.  You’re right about the miss-match with those two!” she exclaimed.  “Is she living there with him? What’s that all about?” she asked rhetorically.  Max had no answer.  None was necessary.

Probably instigated by Grover’s change in demeanor and his abrupt rudeness on this Saturday morning in April all of these flashbacks concerning Grover and Carrie were whirling through Max’s thoughts as he drove on to meet up with Maggie. He was trying to pin down something that was nagging on his mind.
That perfume, why did the smell of that perfume linger in his thoughts?

During the TV news early on a Tuesday evening in mid-May, a local television breaking news flash showed an abandoned mill building with the headline;

“A dead body was discovered, the second one in the past three weeks. This one was located in a vacant industrial building on Farm River Road. The building is situated on an old dam site along the banks of ‘County River’.”

The news commentator went on to describe the scene as the setting around the old mill building was being shown, including yellow police ribbons which were set up around the scene.

It was explained that a call from a cell phone had been received by a 911 operator and had been relayed to the East Wayford Police dispatcher.  The announcement continued;

“The immediate area was searched and the body was transported to the Yale-New Haven Hospital.  The cause of death was unknown at the time of this broadcast. Stay tuned for additional information relating to this second mysterious death in East Wayford within three weeks.”

Maggie and Max had been muddling over the idea of a get-away long weekend for the Memorial Day holiday as they enjoyed their evening meal.  Now, with her mouth hanging open as she and Max watched the forty-inch television above the bar at Jerry’s , she spoke first;

“Max, we have that listing. Do you remember inspecting that property, last fall?”

“Oh, yeah,” Max responded.  That property went on the auction block in February but the only bid that met the minimum didn’t pass muster with financing.  Is it still listed for sale?”

“I think so” Maggie said flatly, but I think it’s a dead issue.  A lot of the manufacturing space in the property is beyond repair and the amount of the liens against the former owner will hamper a clean purchase.

“Holy shit!” exclaimed Max.  “Do you realize that this is the second dead body, in less than a month, discovered in a property that we inspected?”

Maggie looked at Max across the corner of the bar with a blank gaze as she nodded, but she had no response.  They were both rather astounded as they finished the meal and cocktails that evening.

On Wednesday morning Detective Salvadore was waiting in his car across the street from Max’s apartment building.   As Max came out of the front entrance, Salvadore got out of his vehicle and approached with a manufactured, pleasant greeting.

“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove, could I have a word with you?”

Salvadore asked Max if he had seen the news flash concerning the body discovered at the abandoned mill site.  Max indicated that he had seen the news the evening before.

Salvadore wanted to confirm the information he had gotten from the Stanley Real Estate office regarding Maggie and Max having done an inspection together on the property.

Max was getting irritated at the vague questioning by Salvadore.
What in hell is he driving at? Why did he ask the realty company about this and why is he questioning me about this?
he wondered.

“I did inspect the property some time back and yes, Ms. Marshall unlocked the buildings” he responded rather curtly. “She and I cross paths doing our business quite frequently” he added. The detective nodded silently.  He made some notes in a pocket note book while Max stood looking at him with a quizzical expression on his face.  After a long half minute with no conversation between them, Max asked;

“Is there anything else Lieutenant? “If not, I’d like to get on to my office.” he said coolly without waiting for an answer.

“Oh, nothing else right now,” answered Salvadore.  “Your office, now that would be “Jenson’s auction house, correct?”

Max had turned toward his car at “nothing else”.  He stopped, turned back to face Salvadore and snapped;

“That would be Jenson & Associates, just so you get your notes correct. If you’ll excuse me, I’m running a little late and I don’t want to get a speeding ticket.” he added with thinly disguised sarcasm.

Salvadore was back in his vehicle, assumedly making notes, as Max passed him while exiting the driveway.

“This guy is starting to piss me off!” he mumbled to himself.  He dialed Maggie’s cell phone to tell her about Salvadore and alert her to his seemingly non-directional probing, just in case that she might be his next “pincushion.”

“Hi Max”, she answered. Before Max could start telling her about being questioned, Maggie blurted out;

“That damn Salvadore nailed me as I came to work this morning.  He had already talked not only with Francine, but with Sheena and Aggie, her two sales women! He was asking them about anything they knew about the old mill property where the second dead body was found. Then he quizzed me on anyone that I might have worked with on the sale of that property. I told Salvadore that nobody else worked with me on the marketing efforts of properties. I told him that all I do is open the door for co-brokers or for clients when the sales staff can’t be there. I didn’t bother to explain that my involvement with Stanley Realty did not include direct sales.  He didn’t press me on the auction effort, so I didn’t mention you at all.  Let the dumb ass learn what he’s quizzing people about if he wants the facts.”

Calming down some, she caught herself using Max as a sounding board and asked how everything was with him.

“Well, guess what, Salvadore caught me coming out of my apartment and quizzed me the same way. Although you didn’t mention my name, it sounds like one of your co-workers brought up how often we work together.  He pressed me on that point and I told him straight out about how you and I inspected the property, way back when. I also told him we worked together quite often.”

“Oh shit!” Maggie muttered, “Now he’ll think I’m holding back something.  That’s all we need is that creep prying into our business! Why doesn’t he go find out who-in-hell is killing these people?” she asked no one in particular.

“I hear you. I know the police chief pretty well from the tennis club,” Max suggested, “Maybe we should have a chat with him about Salvadore, just to see if this questioning is official, or if his detective is doing this on his own.”

“That’s a thought, let’s think on it” Maggie rationalized verbally.