Killer Transaction (Cindy York Mysteries Book 1) Read online

  With any luck, the second showing would go better. As I secured the lockbox, Ken put his arm around me. "Come on, let's go grab some lunch. I made us a reservation at a great French restaurant nearby. Want to leave your car here, and we'll grab it later?" He gave me a slow wink that made my stomach turn.

  "Ah, no thanks," I said, removing his arm. "I'll follow you."

  He shrugged and opened my car door, gave me one last appraising look, then turned and got into his vehicle. Was it his cocky attitude that irritated me? No, more the fact that he stared at me like he wished to devour me. Okay, maybe I was overreacting. I had to give him a chance. If he said something negative to Donna about this showing experience, I was done for.

  Ken had reserved a corner booth for us and joined me on the same side, so we could both view the lake, he explained. Uh-huh. He continued to drape his arm across my shoulders, and I kept removing it. Finally, he apologized.

  "I'm sorry. It's a bad habit of mine. I always do it whenever I'm out to lunch with clients."

  "I'm sure that goes over well," I said dryly. "What kind of business are you in?"

  "I own a pawn shop," Ken explained. "I sell coins and jewelry. I also buy gold and silver, along with other fine metals." He gave my arm a playful nudge, and it almost landed in my soup. "Donna said you were kind of hard up right now, so if you want to sell some jewelry, let me know. I'll give you top dollar."

  I flinched at the words. "Thanks, but that's really none of Donna's concern. And I'm not hard up. Sales might be a little slow for me right now, but my husband has a very good job."

  "Yes, Donna told me." Ken refilled my wine glass before I could stop him. "It must be tough for George—selling mufflers and all."

  I bit into my lower lip, hoping to temper my reply. "His name is Greg."

  Ken shrugged. "Oh, right. Whatever. So is there any news on your coworker's murder?"

  I shook my head. "Nothing yet."

  "That must be rough on you. How are you handling things?"

  I sighed. "About as well as I can. Since I'm the one who found her, people automatically think I'm guilty. You know how people around here like to gossip."

  Ken nodded. "The police don't have any leads?"

  "If they do, they certainly aren't sharing them with me." Ugh. As soon as I said the words, I wanted to bite my tongue off. The darn wine was already getting to me. I remembered what Greg always said, "Give Cindy a drink, and the world will know her life story." I didn't want to divulge any more information to Ken. I doubted he could be trusted, and anything I told him he would be sure to blab to Donna. She already hated me, so why give her any more ammunition?

  Ken laid his hand on my knee, and I tensed. "Please stop."

  He removed his hand and smiled at me as a cat would his prey. "You have the most gorgeous hazel eyes I've ever seen."

  Heat warmed my face. Whether it was from the wine or the compliment, I wasn't quite sure. Probably both. "Thank you."

  His hand went back on my knee. "That George is one lucky man."

  A small trickle of sweat traveled down my back as I removed his hand—yet again. "Thank you. And it's Greg."

  "Greg, George, they both start with G, so what's the difference?"

  What an arrogant jerk. I stared at my watch. "Perhaps we'd better get the check. I have to get home before my kids return from school."

  "Ah, I'm sure they'll be fine alone for a while. Donna mentioned you have like half a dozen?"

  "Not quite. Twin boys and a girl. Gee, you and Donna must have spent an awful lot of time talking about me."

  He roared with laughter as his eyes focused on my chest again. "Well, there's quite a lot to talk about."

  I was slowly suffocating with discomfort. "Um, I'd appreciate it if you'd stop touching me, or I won't be able to show you the other house."

  The smile faded from his face. "I'm sorry, Cindy. I guess I get a tad crazy whenever I see a beautiful woman. You see, my wife is a bit homely in that department."

  Was this guy for real? "That's a terrible thing to say about Donna. You got married—what, last week?"

  "Almost two weeks ago." Ken finished his crème brûlée and signaled for the check.

  My mouth fell open in amazement. "So if looks are so important to you, why did you marry her?"

  Ken shrugged, and his mouth twitched slightly as he reached inside his wallet for money. My eyes popped when I saw the thick roll of bills he carried. "She has some endearing qualities about her. She's intelligent, faithful, and a good companion."

  Good grief. He'd just described a Saint Bernard. I was silent for a few seconds, thinking how best to respond. Finally, I gave up. "Thank you for lunch. Shall we go now?"

  His eyes lingered on my chest again as he got to his feet. "By all means. Lead the way to the next house, my dear."

  This guy was trouble—I was sure of it. As we drove toward the house, his car following closely at my bumper, I found myself wondering what I would later say to Donna and wishing I hadn't forgotten my can of mace. Did I have enough nerve to tell her about the stunts her new husband was pulling, or should I clam up and leave well enough alone?

  I pulled up in the driveway with Ken's car right behind me. It was a beautiful Tudor style home situated on ten acres. As I walked toward the porch, I gazed at the listing printout. It had only been on the market since last week. Then, for the first time, I spotted the listing agent's name. Tiffany Roberts. Ugh. Why hadn't I noticed that before?

  "What's wrong?"

  "This listing belonged to my murdered coworker. I can't seem to get away from her memory today for some reason." Yeah, Cin, you know the reason. Because everyone thinks you're guilty.

  "Well, if you sell it to my mother, that'll fix everything, right?"

  I gasped. "That's a horrible thing to say."

  Ken grinned and held the screen door ajar while I punched my code in and produced the key, which I then stuck into the heavy oak door, turning the knob slowly.

  Without warning, Ken grabbed my hand and gently pushed me through the doorway. "Pretty ladies first."

  He was really starting to get on my nerves. Somehow I managed a slight smile and entered the home with Ken at my heels.

  This was the type of house I'd always dreamed about. A large crystal chandelier hung from the high vaulted ceiling in the foyer. To the right was a formal dining room, adorned with another glittering chandelier. The eight-piece, cherry wood dining room set was accentuated by a buffet table and china cabinet. To the left of the foyer stood a winding oak staircase, which I assumed led to the bedrooms.

  Beyond the staircase was a large family room with two fireplaces, one opposite a handsome built-in, oak bookcase. The other was accompanied by a sectional, loveseat, and flat-screen television about 70 inches in size, which almost took up the entire wall. It was revolting, yet stunning.

  French doors led to the patio and an in-ground pool with an adjacent pool house. A sunken hot tub was situated on a large wood-grain deck that ran the entire length of the back of the house. Now this was paradise.

  Ken put his arm around me and led me to the right. "Let's go see the kitchen."

  It was a splendid affair with stainless steel appliances, double wall ovens, a huge island in the center of the room, and pristine granite countertops. I was able to see my reflection in the polished, hardwood floors throughout the house. Persian rugs were tastefully scattered about. Everything was immaculate. As I placed my business card on the counter, I felt as if I'd cluttered the place.

  We went back to the foyer and up the stairs. I thought it odd not to see any photos strewn about. They could be found everywhere in my home. Four large bedrooms occupied the second floor, each with its own connecting bathroom. The baths were completely done in marble—floor, counters, and walls. Each was a different color, ranging from pink to black, dark blue, and powder blue.

  Although the baths, like the rest of the house, were elegant, the overall effect of so much marble struck me as cold and
sterile. In fact, the entire house was so picture-perfect I was starting to wonder if the owner still occupied it. This hadn't been noted on the listing.

  As we entered the largest master bedroom, I was unable to place the familiar scent that suddenly filled my nostrils. A light, airy smell that reminded me of lilacs. Where had I encountered that fragrance before? I wasn't surprised to find yet another fireplace. The owner seemed to be addicted to them. A king size bed was covered with a pink organza spread. The built-in California closet was full of clothes and more designer shoes than I'd ever seen in one place, except for Sex and the City re-runs. A white baby grand piano took up a large portion of the room.

  "Kind of an odd place for a piano, isn't it?" Ken mused, leading me away from the closet where I longed to examine the lovely clothes.

  "I guess so." I stopped briefly to admire an exquisite black-and-white porcelain vase, which sat on top of the piano. I gently turned it around. "How beautiful. This must be worth some serious money."

  I took a step back as Ken reached out his hand for the vase. He lifted it up doubtfully, looked at the bottom, and placed it back down with a shake of his head. "This is worthless. It's nothing but a cheap imitation. Nice try though." He headed for the doorway and turned around to wink at me. "Let's see the other bedrooms."

  As we walked down the sterile hallway with my high heels clicking on the travertine, I could feel the wine and two glasses of water from lunch catching up with me. "Excuse me for a second. I need to use the bathroom."

  "Of course, doll. I'll have a quick peek around, if that's all right."

  "Fine." It was a relief to be rid of him for a few minutes. He was creepy, and considering the come-ons, I actually felt sorry for Donna—a sentiment I never thought I'd experience.

  And then there was this house. Something about it was bothering me, almost like a déjà vu affect. As I washed my hands in the sink, the front door slammed. Maybe he's going to look at the swimming pool. That would be good. I could meet him outside, exchange good-byes, and hopefully never have to lay eyes on the slime again.

  As I exited the bathroom, Ken was ascending the long, winding oak staircase two steps at a time. Darn. No such luck.

  "I thought I heard the front door shut. Are you ready to go?"

  "Oh, I was examining the rose bushes," Ken said casually. "My mother's crazy about flowers, and it looks like they're going to bloom well this year. I think she'll love this house."

  "Really?" My previous thoughts about the man were momentarily forgotten. "Do you want to schedule another showing?"

  I tried to contain my enthusiasm and remember Real Estate 101—nothing was a sure thing until you got to the closing table. I was already calculating in my mind what kind of commission I could make on this deal. Even if Ken came in with a lowball offer, my payout would still be over ten grand. I was giddy with excitement at the thought as it meant our money problems would be over for a while. And I could always bring Jacques back with me for the next showing. Or maybe Donna would want to show it to her mother-in-law personally. I didn't want to be anywhere around this man again.

  "Let me call her tonight." Ken put his arm around me and led me toward another master bedroom, done in a neutral, black-and-white color scheme. "She'll be in town next week, so I think it's a good chance. She always does exactly what her boy tells her."

  I made an attempt at a half-hearted laugh while I removed his hand from my shoulder for the umpteenth time today. He let me enter the bedroom first. It was a similar setup to the other one. Huge gas fireplace with two comfortable easy chairs in front of it, a similar walk-in closet, although this one was empty, and a king size bed with a black-and-white organza spread.

  "It's such a gorgeous house." I felt his hand on my backside and whirled around angrily. "You need to keep your hands to yourself."

  "Come on, baby. You know you want it."

  What a conceited pig. "This showing is now over." Furious, I headed for the doorway, but he grabbed me and pulled me into his arms.

  I struggled to free myself. "I said that's enough."

  He practically whined in my ear. "Aw, hot stuff, give me a break. Donna's boring. And ugly. I'm betting George is too."

  "No, Greg's not. Do Donna a favor and grant her an annulment. Even she deserves better than you."

  I hoped this would cause him to let go, but he only tightened his grip and managed to capture my mouth with his. My insides filled with dread, and I thought I was going to be sick to my stomach. Why hadn't I trusted my gut instinct with this man?

  I managed to get one hand free and push his face away. "Don't ever do that again. You need to leave. Now."

  "Don't fight it, doll. Relax and enjoy." He pushed me backward up against the wall and pinned me there, clamping his hands over my arms. He kissed me again while the panic inside me rose at lightning speed.

  Ken chuckled and leaned back for a second to study my face. "I love a feisty woman."

  At that moment, I lifted my right leg and thrust my knee as hard as I could into his crotch. I watched the color drain from Ken's face as he released his hold on me and collapsed to the floor with a groan. Shaken, I reached inside my purse and searched inside for a weapon. Anything. The best I could come up with was my car key, which I pointed at him as I grabbed my phone with the other. Heck, it was better than nothing.

  Ken grabbed the bed for support as he slowly rose to his feet. Dark eyes shot daggers at me, and his voice became a low, angry growl. "You bitch."

  My breath came out in quick, short gasps. "Get out of this house before I—I call the police. And Donna too."

  Ken staggered toward the bedroom doorway and turned to give me one last menacing look. "No wonder you can't get any sales. You haven't learned what it means to give and take in this business. So long, loser."

  I stood there, feet frozen to the floor, listening to him thump his way down the stairs, until the front door slammed, and his BMW roared off. I rushed down the stairs, locked the front door, and ran for the safety of my car. I couldn't get away from here fast enough. The chill that I got from standing in that picture-perfect house was almost as bad as the episode I'd just experienced with Mr. Frisky Fingers.

  After traveling about a mile down the main road, I pulled into a department store parking lot and reached for my phone, hands still shaking. I could barely manage to press the number in my contacts section.

  He answered on the first ring. "How's it going, love?"

  The tears I'd been holding back finally streamed down my face as my shoulders convulsed with sobs. "Can you come and meet me? I really need you."

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jacques rubbed my back in a comforting manner until I managed to pull myself together. "Do you want another drink?"

  We had met in the parking lot of Starbucks, the same one we'd been to earlier in the day, but I refused to go inside. I was a hot mess, and it had taken me almost half an hour to finally stop shaking. "No, thanks. I'm okay now."

  He pushed the hair back from my face. "You're not okay, love. Tell me where to find that son of a bitch, and I'll kill him myself."

  I shook my head vigorously. "I just want to forget about it."

  Jacque's jaw dropped. "Are you crazy? The guy accosted you. If you hadn't gotten away he might have—" His eyes darkened.

  I put my hands to my ears. "Please don't say the word."

  "You have to tell Donna. Maybe you should go to the police too."

  I rubbed my temples in agitation. "No. She'll fire me. And Ken will find a way to deny everything. I know his type."

  "Cin—"

  "I need this job, Jacques."

  "Listen, who cares what Donna does? And it's not the end of the world if you lose this job. I have something else in mind for you anyway."

  I gave him my best pleading look. "Please. Let me think about what to do for a day or two. I have to wait until after my closing, or she might try to cheat me out of the money. And for God's sake, don't tell Greg."

&nb
sp; He frowned. "Sweetie, your hubby barely says boo to me, so that won't be a problem. But I don't like this. Greg has to know, and I think Donna should too. I realize she's the Wicked Witch of the West's twin, but even Donna deserves to know she married a sleazeball."

  He was right. "Okay, I'll tell her. But after the closing. Right now, I just want to go home."

  Jacque's face was somber as he stared at me. I could have sworn I saw a tear behind the designer eyewear. "Cin, you're like my own sister. I don't ever want to see anyone hurt you."

  A lump in my throat kept me from speaking for a full minute. I gave him a kiss on the cheek, grabbed my purse, and opened the passenger side door of his car. "If I leave now, I'll just make it before the twins get home."

  "Promise me you'll think about what I said? And you'll call later?"

  "I will. And thanks—for being a lifesaver. I love you."

  He gazed at me soberly. "I love you too, dear."

  I arrived home as the school bus pulled up in front of the house. I waved to Barb, their bus driver, who greeted me with a slicing motion across her throat. Great. Everyone was a comedian these days.

  The twins waited at the front door impatiently while I locked my car and grabbed the mail.

  Seth stared at me. "You don't look so good, Mom. Your face is like the color of Mrs. White's hair."

  "Did you throw up your lunch?" Stevie asked.

  "I'm fine, guys. How was school?"

  "You were the best part of the day," Stevie said. "Everybody was talking about you at lunch. Elizabeth asked if we could go on a field trip to visit you when you land in the slammer."

  Something to look forward to. "How nice."

  "Mrs. White left right after you did. Mrs. Lewis came in to teach the class for the rest of the day." Seth headed for the snack cabinet in the kitchen.

  I reached inside the fridge and grabbed him an apple instead. "What was wrong with Mrs. White?"

  Stevie shrugged. "She said she didn't feel well. I heard her tell Mrs. Lewis, 'one more year and I'm out of this hellhole.' Why'd she say that?"