Raven Sisters (Franza Oberwieser Book 2) by Gabi Kreslehner Page B

no longer clicked but sank deep into the lawn, which didn’t seem to bother her.
    “Uh-huh,” she said, looking around. “So this is the object of desire.”
    She laughed a little foolishly at her own joke, and Franza forced a small smile so as not to appear impolite.
    Since the beginning of the year, Franza had been living in an apartment in town, in a neighborhood close to the river and the wetlands. Two months later, Max had found an apartment four blocks away from her, and they’d put the house up for sale.
    At first it had felt like the collapse of an old order, as if years of their lives had simply been wiped out and replaced by a deep pain. She knew Max felt the same, but neither of them admitted it to the other.
    The house sale dragged on. It was more difficult than they had anticipated. A constant stream of people came to view it, but they always managed to find something that didn’t suit them. The garden was too small or too big, the house too old or too modern. There were too few rooms or too many.
    They probably found it too expensive and were seeking to drive the price down with their petty faultfinding.
    And now here was another prospective buyer.
    “Yes,” Franza said. “It is.”
    She studied the young woman’s face, as if to discover what was going on behind it, and noticed the beginnings of a pimple to the right of her top lip, a blackhead blemishing the surface of her skin. It immediately made her feel less old and ugly, and she began to smile.
    “Welcome!” She extended her hand. “Are you here on your own? Couldn’t your husband spare the time?”
    “No,” the young woman said apologetically. She looked like an attorney or a banker, at any rate, something to do with finance, with facts and cool objectivity. “He’s stuck in a meeting, but he’s going to try and get away.”
    Her gaze swept over the garden, and Franza had to smile. She’s already looking for faults, she thought, for something she can use to bargain with.
    “Well,” said the banker, “it’s a little unkempt, isn’t it? Quite a bit of work to do.”
    She turned and looked at Franza, aggressive, observant, ready to fight for every cent.
    “Law firm? Bank?”
    The woman frowned in confusion. “I beg your pardon?”
    “I was just asking what your profession is,” said Franza with a smile, thanking God or whichever power was out there for her composure and calmness, which grew as she aged.
    “The former,” said the woman in the garden a little sharply, raising her eyebrows and allowing her eyes to glide slowly over Franza, who knew she was not looking her neatest that day.
    Franza nodded. She’s probably thinking I’m a frustrated women’s libber, she thought, and of course that I’m sexually unsatisfied and undisciplined, as I obviously overeat. And of course there’s that stain on my shirt, level with my left breast because I was a bit careless when having coffee with Port earlier. Because Port made me spill it, big kid that he is.
    “Don’t go trying to drive the price down,” she said. “It won’t work. Either you want the house or you don’t. Either the house wants you or it doesn’t. There’s no middle ground.”
    She gave a small smile and enjoyed seeing the young woman’s irritation. Franza was sure the woman was thinking she was completely stupid because she was behaving like such a sourpuss and not sucking up to her, something she really should do if she wanted someone to buy this house.
    But perhaps, she thought with a small inner sigh, the house doesn’t want to be sold. Perhaps the house simply wants to stay ours.
    Her cell phone rang. The display showed Herz’s office number. Oh dear, she thought, not a good sign. Can’t I take an afternoon off without people killing each other?
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go. Perhaps you could call my husband. He might be able to show you around the house.”
    She took the call. They had found a body. September