I'll Protect You (Clueless Resolutions Book 1) (5 page)

The residential real estate situation in the Southern Connecticut area was not as severely affected by mortgage delinquencies as with the neighboring states of New York, Massachusetts and Rhode Island. Bank foreclosures on homes were, nevertheless, occurring at a historically high rate.  Property values had leveled off and had started to decline.  Developers had high inventories of unsold new homes and existing home sales were in a slump.  More and more home buyers who had purchased their homes during the peak price era were finding that their property was not worth what they had paid for it a few short years earlier. Reduced monthly payment plans for the initial years of new mortgages were expiring and, with those home owners unable to keep up with the higher payments, personal bankruptcies were spiraling.  An ever increasing number of foreclosed homes were being auctioned to the highest bidder.

Jenson & Associates auction activity was running at an all-time high. Max was falling slightly behind with his inspections and value recommendations. He was working with a few real estate brokerages and he was getting a higher-than-usual number of cases from his main source, Maggie, at Stanley Realty.

A little over three weeks had passed since Max and Maggie’s involvement with the mysterious death on Whitmore Lane had occurred.  The “Terrific Twosome” hadn’t had an abundance of recreational time for a month and on the fourth Monday in May, Maggie and Max got together for an evening meal at Jerry’s pub.

As they were sipping martinis while updating each other and waiting for the meals, a news flash lit up the TV screen over the bar:

“This just in: A report from the East Wayford Police has indicated that the state medical examiner’s office has found that the dead body found in the vacant mill on River Road in mid-May was not the result of a natural, nor an accidental death. The case was now considered the second homicide in East Wayford within the past month.”

The news reporter went on to show interviews with some local individuals, most of whom were voicing alarm at the apparent killings.  Since no progress was being reported by the local police, some were beginning to question whether the State Police should be brought in on the cases.

“Man, Salvadore has his hands full now.” Max exclaimed.  “I haven’t heard from, or seen the Lieutenant since he questioned me at my apartment.”

“Neither have I,” Maggie retorted with a satisfied half –smirk, “Maybe Lou Devaro told the jerk to back off.  Too bad, Salvadore is such a sweetheart of a guy.” she said with obvious sarcasm.

By 9:30 PM, with a busy day of three scheduled inspections together ahead of them, they called it a day and left the pub, each going their separate way.

As Maggie drove off a young-looking, slightly built, light skinned man with a baseball cap pulled low over his nose, started a restored, black, 1960’s Trans Am coupe and pulled away from the pub, driving slowly in the same direction.

As Max drove his recently-repaired auto in the opposite direction, he glanced in his rear view mirror and noticed the black coupe pulling out behind Maggie.

Hearing about the killings earlier had gotten Max a little jumpy. The young man following in the same direction as Maggie bothered him somehow.  He slowed, made a quick U-turn and sped up until he could see the black coupe up ahead. 
I can’t believe I’m doing this!
Max thought.

Lagging back inconspicuously Max followed behind both cars.  When the black coupe duplicated the two turns and followed the route which led to Maggie’s apartment, Max began to feel less foolish and more concerned.  When Maggie pulled her car into the driveway of the duplex apartment where she lived, the black coupe went on past the building.

Max pulled over, stopped and turned off the headlights. He didn’t want Maggie to spot him following her because he had no viable explanation.  This was embarrassing!

Just then, he watched as the black coupe turned around and came slowly back toward him and stopped just short of, and across from, Maggie’s driveway.  The headlights went off.

What the hell?
Max thought. 
This screwball is stalking her!

Max wasn’t about to take this odd behavior any longer.  He turned the headlights on and drove down the street and turned right into to Maggie’s driveway.  He slammed on the breaks and opened his door simultaneously.  He could hear Maggie yelling; “Max, Max, is that you?  She was calling out to him as he ran out into the street to confront the driver of the black Trans Am.  Suddenly, with the screeching rear tires spewing back a blue-gray cloud of smoke, the car roared up the street and was soon out of sight.

Max stood there in the street panting slightly and he turned to see Maggie running to him with an alarmed, puzzled look on her face.

“What in hell is going on Max?” she asked loudly.

“I’m not sure, I don’t like this.” he said with a distant look in his eyes.

7378, last 4 numbers on the plate.
  Max had memorized the last four digits of the license plate on the black Trans Am. He reached out and grasped Maggie’s shoulders with both hands.

With a concerned look in his eyes, Max explained to Maggie how he had been uneasy over the way the young driver had obviously been watching them as they were leaving the restaurant, but hadn’t mentioned it to her at the time.  Max didn’t want to alarm Maggie but after what had just happened he told her that he felt she shouldn’t be in her apartment alone, especially since her neighbors in the duplex were apparently not home.

“Max, I’m a big girl now and I have been on my own for, well, for longer than I should have maybe.” she said, half-jokingly.  Max stared at her without returning the light banter with his usual come backs.  He was in a dead serious mood right now.

Maggie sensed the caring, protective sort of vibes from him that she hadn’t experienced with him before this.  She was taken aback by it, and was feeling a warm glow rising up in her as she looked back into his intense eyes.  They had never been exposed to any sort of danger together.  Softly now, without her usual, self-assured demeanor, she continued, “I do have a dead-bolt lock on the door and a cell phone, so I should be okay, Max.” Then, after a second’s pause, she relented, “Why don’t you come in, we’ll have a nightcap and we can wait until my neighbors come home”

Relieved at what sounded like the best solution at that moment, Max agreed.  He felt a need to keep Maggie close to him at this point in time.  He followed her into the apartment as he cast a quick last glance up and down the street.

The safe, contented feeling they both felt that evening evolved into the first time, since they had met, that they spent the night at Maggie’s apartment.

Dawn broke on Tuesday morning with a bright red sunrise beaming into Maggie’s duplex apartment and awaked Max, early, as always. He quietly got out of bed, went about gathering his clothes and dressed.

Before leaving, Max peeked into the bedroom.  As Maggie was still sleeping soundly, he located a note pad on the kitchen counter and left her a message:

“Mag, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t had a good night’s sleep like that for a real long time.  Maybe my concern about your safety was overdone, let’s hope so.  C U later,
Max”

Closing the door, pre-setting it to lock as he left, Max felt the same sense of dread returning which he had experienced the previous evening.  When he saw the tire marks on the street where the black coupe had peeled out, he recalled the license plate number, a Connecticut plate, with the last four numbers 7378.  He was going to talk to Lou Devaro about it as soon as he could. Right now he had to get home, clean up and get some breakfast on the way to his first appointment where he would meet Maggie, on time as usual, he hoped.

Maggie awoke with her alarm doing a “song and dance” and, as she readied herself for the day’s activities she read Max’s note.
Max, you devil, you really are a freaking romantic,
she thought.

As she
jammed down a bagel with a cup of instant coffee, the lingering feeling she felt from the previous night with Max was good.  They really had a deepening appreciation of togetherness, it seemed. Whatever the future would bring, she felt that at least she would have experienced a meaningful relationship with a man she respected and she felt that his feelings were reciprocal.
It doesn’t get better than that
she thought.  But now, duty called, and she was out the door and on her way to her office by 7:30AM.

“Good morning Francine’ she sang as she strode to the key rack to gather the keys to the three properties on her day’s agenda.

While checking through her messages, she couldn’t help but notice the strong, lingering aroma of perfume that she had become accustomed to whenever  Carrie, the new trainee had been around.  Maggie appreciated perfumes and colognes used in the way they were designed, but the new girl walked around, many times, in an aroma bubble that could peel paint!

After checking for messages, she entered her agenda in the office log of appointments.  On the way out to her first appointment, she ducked her head into Francine’s office.

“How is the new trainee working out Francine?  Do you think she will be bringing in some new listings?” she asked rhetorically.

“I think she may be a real producer,” was Francine’s reply, “She really turns heads wherever she goes, and that’s for sure.” 
I wonder if that’s all she turns. 
Maggie’s thoughts quipped.

“Her perfume smells really expensive; do you know the name of it?”  Maggie asked with feigned interest.  Francine replied, in a distracted sort of way,

“I think she said it was called ‘Maiden on the Mount’.  It was imported from some Slavic European company.  She said she will order some for me, I hope it’s not too expensive!” was Francine’s rather rambling response.  “
Oh, freaking great, I’ll have to wear a gas mask in here between these two!” 
Maggie fretted silently.

Maggie was not directly involved with the marketing efforts.  There were office sales meetings and regional association meetings that Maggie attended at times, but usually only when she was asked to coach the sales force on providing financial recommendations to owners who were delinquent on their mortgage payments or that were distressed in other ways whereby a forced sale was imminent.

Although Maggie pretty much tended to her own responsibilities, she did wonder, from time to time, how many listings or sales Francine’s office staff actually produced, compared to the other offices in the East Wayford community.  The two saleswomen on the staff, Sheena Greene and Agatha “Aggie” Moran, were seldom very busy, it seemed.

Maggie’s specialized activity produced many more listings, and there was minimal advertising cost involved, but these transactions provided much smaller fees to the brokerage.  Unlike the salespersons she was salaried, rather than on commissions.

Although Maggie’s specialized expertise had become more in demand in recent years she doubted that she, herself, produced enough revenue to carry the office.

“I won’t be finished till afternoon, call me on the cell if anyone needs me” she called out, to anyone who was listening.  With that, she left the office.

Maggie was, as usual, punctual with the first inspection appointment with Max.  He arrived, uncharacteristically, ten minutes late this time.

Maggie was at the open front door of a distressed residence which was financed for more than it was currently worth in the slow market scenario.  Stanley Realty had not been able to find a buyer and foreclosure was likely.

“Rough night?” was Maggie’s greeting to Max as he walked to the entrance of the house.

“I’ve had worse” Max quipped as they exchanged understanding glances. Then it was down–to-business time.

Max reviewed the interior of the property and went outside to take measurements, pictures and make notes pertaining to conformance with zoning codes.

“What’s next on the list?  Max asked Maggie when it was time to move on.

“We have a small, three-unit commercial strip in the center of the village on 312 Oak Street. Two units are rented with solid leases and there is one office-style vacancy.

“Francine had it listed but she doesn’t have the commercial property connections to move the property fast enough.  It should have sold, but the owner is in some type of financial bind and ran out of time. The lender has filed for foreclosure”. Maggie summarized.

“If you can get us in and out before lunch, I’ll buy”. Max offered to Maggie.

“You’re on, I’ll meet you there” she replied.

Maggie showed Max through the two occupied units of the small strip type retail/office property and, as they were at the entrance to the vacant, third unit she stopped and turned.

“I am really getting hungry. How are we doing for time?” she asked.

Max, taking the bait, quipped; “If we keep on moving at this brisk pace we can have one of those nice, extended lunches.”  Smiling, Maggie unlocked the front entrance to the vacant office unit and pushed it open.

“After you” said Max playfully, as he followed her into the dim interior.

Max noticed a single-pole coat rack with an overcoat hanging on one hook and a tweed cap perched on top. Maggie had passed by it without paying attention.  With Maggie’s back to him, Max quietly laid the coat rack down on the floor and asked, “Is there a light switch here?”

As Maggie turned toward him with a quizzical look, Max, with perfect timing, jumped back while pointing to the object on the floor and yelled “Holy Shit!”

“Jesus!” Maggie gasped, as she backed away from what she thought, for a moment, was another dead body.

Max broke out with a cackling laugh as he watched Maggie try to process her gullible naiveté at the obvious prank.

“You bastard!” she blurted, “That’s nothing to screw with, you ass! My heart just jumped almost out of my throat!”  Max stifled his laughter as best he could, and reached out to give Maggie a reassuring hug.

“Sorry, Mag, I thought that, with all the tension we’ve been dealing with lately, a little comic relief is what we needed,” he said.

Maggie relaxed, returned his hug and said quietly, “You’ve got that right Max.”  After a short pause, she continued with pretended coyness, “Let’s wrap this inspection up and grab that lunch you promised me.”

At this point, there was a mutual urge, which they knew they both felt, to blow off the afternoon appointment and head out of town, for a private, romantic, light supper, four “nips” of good vodka (2 double martinis each), one half pint of dry vermouth… and a one-night suite.

Instead, being the responsible business operatives that they were, Maggie and Max had individually decided to suppress any madcap compulsions, dutifully stick to business, have a local lunch at Jerry’s Pub and complete the afternoon inspection appointment, as scheduled.

During the lunch at Jerry’s, the “Terrific Twosome” quietly exchanged ideas about how to proceed with their business lives in the community, in view of the mysterious, unexplained, recent dead body discoveries and how the rather clandestine personal involvement they had self-induced complicated matters.

Max was prone to continuing things as they were, while trying to deduce, on their own, how their business involvement coincided with the gruesome crimes.

Maggie, with her straight forward and no-nonsense personality that Max was so attracted to, favored ‘getting things out in the open’.  The two viewpoints, Max with his analytic, scientific approach to problems, and Maggie with her overt, instinctively confident, roll-the-dice tendencies, both resulted in the decision to meet with Chief Lou Devaro.  They both trusted that he would be fair and forthright and they wanted to get his personal input on the situation.

They would, no doubt, be in for a lecture from “Police Chief Lou” on giving up any information that they might have and on assisting the police in the handling of the law enforcement.  However they felt that, Lou, the friend, would give them perceptive personal advice on this matter.