Appraisal for Murder Read Online Free PDF Page A

him. “Do I know you?”
    “No, but I know your husband.” He studied me as he backed up half a step, apparently trying to ascertain if knowing Robby would make me slug him.
    “I’ve learned there were a lot of people who knew him who didn’t know me. And it’ll be former husband as soon as my lawyer makes it legal.”
    He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about what you’ve been through.” He gestured to a bench. “Could we sit for a minute? My bunion’s killing me.”
    I hesitated, then figured the boardwalk was as good a place as any to talk to a stranger. “Sure.” We walked to a bench, one facing the boardwalk rather than the ocean.
    He cleared his throat again. “Sinus,” he said.
    The man is a walking calamity.
    “The thing is,” he continued, “your husband owed some money to some people.”
    “I’d be top on that list, I think. He raided all our joint assets, even my personal retirement account. And his bank is more than a little irritated at him.”
    “Yeah, I read about that.” He cleared his throat again. I was tempted to tell him just to have a good spit in the sand, but I didn’t. “See, my boss lent him some money, to kind of help him out.”
    “Your boss was a fool,” I said.
    “Well, he don’t like to be put in that position, you see.” He looked sideways toward the ocean, and then back to me. “He wants me to talk to you about paying some of that debt.”
    My laugh was so harsh and loud that two seagulls squawked and flew off the bench next to us. “I don’t think so.”
    “You see…” he began.
    “My lawyer said that since I saw no benefit from the money I’m not responsible for any gambling debts Robby incurred on his own, or for money he embezzled. The law firm published some notice to that effect in the newspaper.”
    “Yeah,” he said, “we saw it.”
    “Who’s we?” I was growing more than a little tired of these illusions to a boss I figured might not exist. This guy is trying to con me.
    He slipped off one of the narrow black patent loafers and began massaging his foot. “You could say that my boss lends money to people down on their luck, especially when they frequent certain casinos in Atlantic City.”
    Suddenly, I felt chilled all over. Am I in some sort of mob movie or is this real? “I don’t like casinos. Too much cigarette smoke.” I stood. “I need to go now.”
    “Please,” he shoved his foot back in his shoe and stood. Despite his seeming friendliness, I felt nervous. “The next request, it might not be so nice.”
    “Are you threatening me?”
    “No, I’m really not. It’s just how things are.”
    I turned and walked away quickly, without looking back.

CHAPTER THREE
    I SPENT THE NEXT TWO DAYS trying to put Joe Pedone out of my mind. This was easier than it would have been a few days ago because I was driving around Ocean Alley looking at the houses Harry Steele had appraised and the prior sales that he listed as comparably priced to each one he was working on. I had thought of Ocean Alley as a place to relax rather than in terms of its real estate values. I was going to have to spend a lot of time looking at past sales.
    I spent several hours researching a bunch of other prior sales in the Miller County Court House. It was built in the early 1920s, the previous one having been severely damaged by fire. Uncle Gordon’s mother was the county elections clerk at the time. She heard the fire engines and ran to the building in her bath robe to try to save records. When the firefighters refused to let her in, she snuck in the back and closed several of the heavy interior oak doors, thus keeping the fire from spreading into several offices. Every time someone told that story when I was young my mother would add that while her actions had saved a lot of valuable records, no one should ever run into a burning building. This was not a lesson she really needed to reiterate, but I suppose she felt obliged to stress this.
    This court house