I moved back into the main room and crossed to the closet, peering into the four-by-six space, which was fully carpeted, empty, and painted a pristine white. Sufficient room for filing cabinets and office supplies. Even had a hook where I could hang my jacket. I turned back to the main room and let my gaze travel the perimeter. If I placed my desk facing the window, I could look out at the deck. The shutters were perfect. If a client dropped in, I could close the lower set for privacy and leave the upper set folded back for light. I tried a window crank, which turned smoothly, without so much as a whine or a creak. I leaned against the windowsill. “No termites, no leaky roof?”
“No, ma’am. I can guarantee that because I did the work myself. This is real quiet back here. You ought to see it by day. Lot of light coming through these windows. Trouble walks in, you got cops right across the street.” His accent was faintly Southern.
“Fortunately, my job’s not that dangerous.”
He tucked his hands into his front pockets. His face was dappled with sun damage like a fine patina of freckles. I couldn’t think what to say next and the silence stretched. Tommy launched in again without a lot of help from yours truly. “Place was in pretty bad shape when we took possession. We upgraded plumbing and electrical, put on a new roof and aluminum siding. Stuff like that.” His voice was so soft I found myself straining to hear.
“It looks nice. How long have you owned it?”
“About a year. We’re new out here. We lost our parents a few years ago-both passed away. Richard hates talking about that almost more’n me. It’s still a sore subject. So, now it’s just the two of us, my brother and me.” He crossed to the cooler and opened the lid, glancing over at me. “Offer you a beer?”
“Oh, no thanks. I was just about to have supper when someone showed me your ad. After I talk to Richard, I’ll head on back and eat there.”
“Don’t like to drink and drive,” he remarked, smiling ruefully.
“That’s part of it,” I said.
He rooted through the crushed ice, pulled out a Diet Pepsi, and popped the tab. I held up a hand, but not quick enough to stop him.
“Seriously, I’m fine.”
His frown was softened by a tone of mock disapproval. “No beer, no soda pop. Can’s open now. Might as well have a sip. You don’t want the whole thing to go to waste,” he said. Again, he proffered the Pepsi, waggling the can coaxingly in my direction. I took it to avoid a fuss. He reached into the cooler and extracted a bottle of Bass Ale. He flipped the cap off and held it by the neck while he seated himself on the floor. He leaned his back against the wall, his legs extended in front of him. His work boots looked enormous. He gestured at the empty expanse of carpet. “Pull up a seat. Might as well be comfortable.”
“Thanks.” I picked a spot across from him and sat down on the floor, taking a polite sip of Pepsi before I set the can aside.
Tommy took a long draw of beer. He looked like a guy accustomed to smoking while he worked. “I used to smoke,” he said, as though reading my mind. “Tough to give up, but I think I got it licked. You smoke?”
“Once upon a time.”
“Been six months for me. Now and then, I still get the itch, but I take in a couple of breaths just like this. . . .” He paused to demonstrate, his chest expanding as he sucked air audibly through his nose. He let out his breath. “Pretty soon the craving goes away. Where you from?”
“I’m local. Went to Santa Teresa High.”
“Me and my brother come from Texas. Little town called Hatchet. Ever hear of it?”
I shook my head.
“Right outside Houston. Pop was in oil. Luckily he sold the company before the bottom dropped out. Poured all his money into real estate. Developed shopping malls, office buildings, all kinds of commercial properties. California’s weird. People don’t seem all that friendly like they do where we come from. Especially the women. Lot of them seem stuck-up.”
The silence settled again.
He took another pull of beer and wiped his mouth on his palm. “Private detective. That’s a new one on me. You carry a gun?”
“Occasionally. Not often.” I dislike being “drawn out,” though he was probably only being polite until his brother appeared.
He smiled lazily as if picking up on my innate crankiness. “So which do you prefer? Guys way too young for you or guys way too old.”
“I never thought about it like that.”
He wagged a finger. “Guys way too old.”
I felt my cheeks grow warm. Dietz really wasn’t that old.
Me, I like women your age,” he said, showing a flash of white teeth. “You got a boyfriend?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Tommy laughed. “Oh, come on. You seeing someone steady?”
More or less,” I said. I didn’t want to piss this guy off when I was hoping against hope I’d end up renting the place.
“‘More or less.’ I like that. So which is it?”
“‘More,’ I guess.”
“Can’t be much of a romance if you have to guess.” He narrowed his eyes as though consulting his intuition. “So here’s what I think. I bet you’re real schizy. Bet you blow hot and cold about other human beings, especially men. Am I right?”
“Not necessarily. I wouldn’t say that.”
“But you must’ve seen a lot of bad guys, the business you’re in.”
“I’ve seen some bad women, too.”
“That’s another thing I like. Bad girls, bad women, renegades, rebels . . .” He lifted his head, checking his watch as he did. “Here he comes. Fifteen minutes late. You can just about bank on it.”
I glanced at the window as a pair of headlights swept across the parking area. I rose to my feet. Tommy finished his beer and set the bottle aside. A car door slammed and shortly afterward Richard Hevener walked in, tapping a clipboard restlessly against the side of his leg. He wore jeans and a black T-shirt, over which he wore a supple-looking black leather sportscoat. He was taller than Tommy and a lot stockier, his hair dark. He was the somber brother and seemed to take himself very seriously. This was going to be a chore.
“Richard Hevener,” he said as he offered me his hand. We shook hands and then he turned to Tommy. “Looks good.”
“Thanks. Finish picking up and I’m out of here. You need anything else?”
I tuned out briefly while the two conferred. I gathered there was another property undergoing renovations and Tommy was starting work on that the following week. His manner had shifted in his brother’s presence, his flirtatiousness gone. Their discussion finished, Tommy picked up the wastebasket full of carpet scraps and carried them outside, heading for the trash bin at the rear of the lot.
“So what do you think of the place?” Richard said, turning to me. “You want to fill out an application?” His accent and his manner of speaking were much less “Texas” than Tommy’s. Consequently, he seemed older and more businesslike.
“Sure, I could do that,” I said, trying not to sound like I was sucking up.
He passed me the clipboard and a pen. “We pay water and trash. You pay your own electric and phone. Heating’s prorated and it varies, depending on the season. There’s only one other tenant and he’s a CPA.”
“I can’t believe the space hasn’t been snapped up.”
“Ad just went in. We’ve already had a lot of calls. Three, right after yours. I’m meeting another guy tonight.”
I could feel anxiety begin to mount. I leaned on a windowsill and began to fill in the information. Applications are tedious, requiring tidbits of information that are actually nobody’s business. I filled in my Social Security number and my California driver’s license number, circled DIVORCED in the section that asked if I were single, married, or divorced. Previous addresses, how long, and reasons for leaving. Personal references I listed, along with the bank where I had my checking account. I made a few things up. I drew a dotted line where it asked for credit card numbers and the balance on those accounts. By the time I finished, Tommy had left. I heard his truck in the driveway and then it was gone. I handed Richard the clipboard, watching while he scanned the information.
“If you want a deposit, I can give you one tonight.”
“No need. I’ll call your references and run a credit check. We have a couple more people coming by on Monday.”
“Do you have any idea how soon you’ll be making a decision?”