answer.
“We will indeed.”
And that voice, the assuredness, made her mum smile.
“Then let me clear and you two can get going …”
***
Outside the house, Jack stopped by his car.
“I like those two.”
Sarah nodded. Though it wasn’t always perfect, she was one of the lucky ones who actually got on with her parents. And somehow, it seemed important that Jack liked them as well.
“I’m glad,” she said. “Interesting story from my Dad, eh?”
Jack nodded. “And unexpected. Some old secret. Does it have anything to do with what happened?” He gave a shrug.
“What next?” Sarah said.
“Up for a bit more digging?”
Sarah nodded.
“Okay. Good. I’m going to visit the village’s real estate offices.”
“Estate agents.”
“Right. Pretend that I’m growing tired of the barge, and maybe hinting I have piles of cash for a property. Get some idea of what that manor house might be worth. If it was burned by one of Victor’s children, they would have found out if it had value.”
“Good. I’m a bit swamped this afternoon, but is there something you had in mind for me?”
“If you have time, I was thinking a visit to the local electrician’s might be worthwhile. If they had fires there previously, some wiring repairs must have been done. And we know Dominic did some.”
“I know just who to see,” she said. “Been a fixture in the village for decades. I’ll try and pop in when I get my layouts sent out.”
“Great. And we can touch base this evening?”
“Absolutely.”
Another nod, and Jack opened the door to the Sprite. But Sarah put out a hand to his arm to stop him.
“And Jack — thanks for reassuring my mum. She needed to hear that. From you.”
“About being careful?”
“Yes.”
“Easy to say, Sarah, since I meant it.”
A small breeze kicked up, sending orange leaves scurrying under the small sports car.
“Getting chilly,” Jack said. He angled his big frame into the too-small driver’s bucket seat. “Going to have to put the top up soon …”
“The village in winter? You’ll love it.”
“I bet I will.”
And then Jack started the engine and Sarah walked back to her Rav 4.
Autumn was definitely in the air, and winter — waiting in the wings.
10. Property Values
Jack had spotted more than a couple of estate agents in the village. Sales and rentals must be good, based on all the pictures of pricey properties covering their front windows.
Made sense — nice part of the world, he thought.
Though — in some ways — not that different from Manhattan. People still did bad things to each other, people still had their secrets, and there was still a need for people like Jack to ask difficult questions.
He pulled the collar of his jacket up, the chilly wind finding its way through the narrow streets.
About to enter one agent’s office, he took a breath and hoped he looked like a well-off client in search of a big property.
Two down, and this last one to go.
Both conversations useful but tricky to end. The important thing was that both agents confirmed what he suspected — Mogdon Manor may not be worth all that much with the massive amount of repairs and restoration it needed. Would take a small fortune just to get it up to code, let alone desirable.
But the property, the grounds?
Easily worth millions.
One could bulldoze the Manor, and still walk away with a ton of cash.
He debated skipping the last of estate agents, Cauldwell & Co, at the far end of the town, near the car park. Looked smaller than the others, maybe dealing with less glitzy properties.
But as he often reminded himself, you never knew where something useful would pop up.
So he went in, his act as prosperous owner-to be now well honed.
A man at a large wooden desk raised his head from the Daily Telegraph and immediately flashed Jack a broad grin.
Like estate agents anywhere, they do love when a fresh body walked into their place.
“Ah, hello! Can I be of assistance to
“We will indeed.”
And that voice, the assuredness, made her mum smile.
“Then let me clear and you two can get going …”
***
Outside the house, Jack stopped by his car.
“I like those two.”
Sarah nodded. Though it wasn’t always perfect, she was one of the lucky ones who actually got on with her parents. And somehow, it seemed important that Jack liked them as well.
“I’m glad,” she said. “Interesting story from my Dad, eh?”
Jack nodded. “And unexpected. Some old secret. Does it have anything to do with what happened?” He gave a shrug.
“What next?” Sarah said.
“Up for a bit more digging?”
Sarah nodded.
“Okay. Good. I’m going to visit the village’s real estate offices.”
“Estate agents.”
“Right. Pretend that I’m growing tired of the barge, and maybe hinting I have piles of cash for a property. Get some idea of what that manor house might be worth. If it was burned by one of Victor’s children, they would have found out if it had value.”
“Good. I’m a bit swamped this afternoon, but is there something you had in mind for me?”
“If you have time, I was thinking a visit to the local electrician’s might be worthwhile. If they had fires there previously, some wiring repairs must have been done. And we know Dominic did some.”
“I know just who to see,” she said. “Been a fixture in the village for decades. I’ll try and pop in when I get my layouts sent out.”
“Great. And we can touch base this evening?”
“Absolutely.”
Another nod, and Jack opened the door to the Sprite. But Sarah put out a hand to his arm to stop him.
“And Jack — thanks for reassuring my mum. She needed to hear that. From you.”
“About being careful?”
“Yes.”
“Easy to say, Sarah, since I meant it.”
A small breeze kicked up, sending orange leaves scurrying under the small sports car.
“Getting chilly,” Jack said. He angled his big frame into the too-small driver’s bucket seat. “Going to have to put the top up soon …”
“The village in winter? You’ll love it.”
“I bet I will.”
And then Jack started the engine and Sarah walked back to her Rav 4.
Autumn was definitely in the air, and winter — waiting in the wings.
10. Property Values
Jack had spotted more than a couple of estate agents in the village. Sales and rentals must be good, based on all the pictures of pricey properties covering their front windows.
Made sense — nice part of the world, he thought.
Though — in some ways — not that different from Manhattan. People still did bad things to each other, people still had their secrets, and there was still a need for people like Jack to ask difficult questions.
He pulled the collar of his jacket up, the chilly wind finding its way through the narrow streets.
About to enter one agent’s office, he took a breath and hoped he looked like a well-off client in search of a big property.
Two down, and this last one to go.
Both conversations useful but tricky to end. The important thing was that both agents confirmed what he suspected — Mogdon Manor may not be worth all that much with the massive amount of repairs and restoration it needed. Would take a small fortune just to get it up to code, let alone desirable.
But the property, the grounds?
Easily worth millions.
One could bulldoze the Manor, and still walk away with a ton of cash.
He debated skipping the last of estate agents, Cauldwell & Co, at the far end of the town, near the car park. Looked smaller than the others, maybe dealing with less glitzy properties.
But as he often reminded himself, you never knew where something useful would pop up.
So he went in, his act as prosperous owner-to be now well honed.
A man at a large wooden desk raised his head from the Daily Telegraph and immediately flashed Jack a broad grin.
Like estate agents anywhere, they do love when a fresh body walked into their place.
“Ah, hello! Can I be of assistance to
Similar Books
