coffee shop.Chances were slim that I’d be able to concentrate on writing today, even though my character was about to find a body and what I’d just experienced could add a ring of authenticity to my chapter. I turned in the direction I’d come, eager to leave the chaos behind, and saw Crystal Devlin’s assistant in front of the realty office with a key in her hand. The emergency vehicles had drawn Jordan’s attention, and she stood frozen in place.
I didn’t want to be the one to tell her the news about her employer, but I couldn’t bring myself to pass by the woman without a word.
Jordan smiled and spoke first. “How are you this morning?”
I slowed my pace. “Not too good, to tell the truth.”
She frowned. “Why? What’s going on down there?”
“You haven’t heard?”
She shook her head. “No. I just came from the nursing home across town. I go there every morning before work. Breakfast with my mom.”
“That’s nice.”
She grimaced. “It’s not, actually. She acts like she doesn’t remember who I am. Spends the time griping at me because her breakfast isn’t perfect.”
“I’m sorry. Alzheimer’s?”
“No, she had a stroke,” Jordan said. “Bottom line is she’s just mean. Nothing new.”
“Oh.” I wondered why the woman subjected herself to such treatment every day. I would get poor marks as a daughter if anyone expected me to visit my ornery mother under those circumstances.
Jordan looked past me to the flashing lights. “Was there an accident?”
My train of thought had gone down the mother track, and I jerked back to the present. “Um, you mind if I come in to tell you about it?”
“Okay.” She unlocked the door, and we stepped inside.
Jordan flipped a wall switch, and fluorescent lightsbrightened the office. She walked over to the desk and put her purse down, then leaned over the desk to power up the computer.
“I’m afraid the news is bad,” I said slowly. “Crystal—”
Jordan’s head popped up, and she turned to face me. “What’d she do this time?”
“It’s not what she did, it’s what happened to her.” I paused and blew out a breath. “Crystal is dead.”
Jordan stared at me and slumped against the desk. “Oh no. How did it happen?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “It appears that she was killed by falling bricks.”
Jordan’s face, usually a rosy shade, had gone pale. “
Where
did it happen?”
“She was in the old restaurant that’s up for sale.” I described the scene. “Maybe she was meeting a prospective buyer.”
Jordan shook her head. “We’re not showing that space until the work is completed. Another week, maybe more. She gave me explicit instructions.”
I lifted my hands in a beats-me gesture. “Maybe she changed her mind. In any case, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I wasn’t going to say one word about the possibility of foul play.
Jordan wrapped one arm around her waist and rubbed her forehead with her other hand. “This is just awful. Her poor family. Lance. Cody. Poor Mrs. Morales.”
“Who’s Mrs. Morales?” I said.
“Crystal’s housekeeper, cook, personal assistant. Paloma Morales. She’ll be devastated. They were close.” Jordan looked toward Crystal’s office, at her desk, then back to me. “What happens with all the properties for sale? The closings? Oh no, do I even still have a job? What should I do?” Her eyes filled with tears.
I sensed she was putting on a bit of a show. Jordan hadn’t seemed at all fond of Crystal the day before. Of course, they might have simply been out of sorts after the incident with the cat and the broken vase.
“Take it as it comes,” I said. “You’ll probably hear something from the family or their attorney. Until then I would answer the phone, take messages.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Maybe the sheriff will have some advice. I’m sure he’ll be by to speak with you.”
“Me? Why?”
Oops.
I didn’t want to be the one to tell her the news about her employer, but I couldn’t bring myself to pass by the woman without a word.
Jordan smiled and spoke first. “How are you this morning?”
I slowed my pace. “Not too good, to tell the truth.”
She frowned. “Why? What’s going on down there?”
“You haven’t heard?”
She shook her head. “No. I just came from the nursing home across town. I go there every morning before work. Breakfast with my mom.”
“That’s nice.”
She grimaced. “It’s not, actually. She acts like she doesn’t remember who I am. Spends the time griping at me because her breakfast isn’t perfect.”
“I’m sorry. Alzheimer’s?”
“No, she had a stroke,” Jordan said. “Bottom line is she’s just mean. Nothing new.”
“Oh.” I wondered why the woman subjected herself to such treatment every day. I would get poor marks as a daughter if anyone expected me to visit my ornery mother under those circumstances.
Jordan looked past me to the flashing lights. “Was there an accident?”
My train of thought had gone down the mother track, and I jerked back to the present. “Um, you mind if I come in to tell you about it?”
“Okay.” She unlocked the door, and we stepped inside.
Jordan flipped a wall switch, and fluorescent lightsbrightened the office. She walked over to the desk and put her purse down, then leaned over the desk to power up the computer.
“I’m afraid the news is bad,” I said slowly. “Crystal—”
Jordan’s head popped up, and she turned to face me. “What’d she do this time?”
“It’s not what she did, it’s what happened to her.” I paused and blew out a breath. “Crystal is dead.”
Jordan stared at me and slumped against the desk. “Oh no. How did it happen?”
“I’m not exactly sure,” I said. “It appears that she was killed by falling bricks.”
Jordan’s face, usually a rosy shade, had gone pale. “
Where
did it happen?”
“She was in the old restaurant that’s up for sale.” I described the scene. “Maybe she was meeting a prospective buyer.”
Jordan shook her head. “We’re not showing that space until the work is completed. Another week, maybe more. She gave me explicit instructions.”
I lifted my hands in a beats-me gesture. “Maybe she changed her mind. In any case, she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I wasn’t going to say one word about the possibility of foul play.
Jordan wrapped one arm around her waist and rubbed her forehead with her other hand. “This is just awful. Her poor family. Lance. Cody. Poor Mrs. Morales.”
“Who’s Mrs. Morales?” I said.
“Crystal’s housekeeper, cook, personal assistant. Paloma Morales. She’ll be devastated. They were close.” Jordan looked toward Crystal’s office, at her desk, then back to me. “What happens with all the properties for sale? The closings? Oh no, do I even still have a job? What should I do?” Her eyes filled with tears.
I sensed she was putting on a bit of a show. Jordan hadn’t seemed at all fond of Crystal the day before. Of course, they might have simply been out of sorts after the incident with the cat and the broken vase.
“Take it as it comes,” I said. “You’ll probably hear something from the family or their attorney. Until then I would answer the phone, take messages.”
She nodded slowly. “Okay. I can do that.”
“Maybe the sheriff will have some advice. I’m sure he’ll be by to speak with you.”
“Me? Why?”
Oops.
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