Death by Inferior Design Read Online Free PDF Page B

imaginary whip. “Manly stuff. Cowboys and Indians, and all that. Besides, Jill doesn’t even like beer.”
    “But the room design is your Christmas present to Jill, isn’t it?”
    “Not the Barcalounger, though. I mean, she couldn’t possibly . . .” His face had paled visibly. “Cripes! You’re right. If I claim the major new item in the room, Jill’s going to have a hissy fit.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “I should’ve asked Sullivan if he got us any other new seats for Jill.”
    “Even if he didn’t, you can always ask Steve to change his design, you know. Maybe he could provide matching recliners for you and your wife. After all, maybe his friend at the Barcalounger store owed him two favors.” I fought back a grin at the idea of Sullivan being forced to integrate not one but two Barcaloungers into his design.
    Looking a little panic-stricken, Kevin stomped upstairs to find Taylor.
    Okay, that hadn’t been very nice of me, and I especially had to assign myself negative brownie points for chuckling the moment Kevin had left the room. Having the homeowner get cold feet about a plan in progress is one of a designer’s toughest challenges.
    Upstairs, Kevin grumbled, “Taylor, Steve needs you to put in equal time here. He’s got some stupid entertainment center and a . . . coffee table, or something. He’s waiting for us at Axelrod’s.”
    “Yeah, all right. See you later, Carl.”
    “Jeez,” Kevin muttered at me as he slunk down the stairs, Taylor lumbering ahead of him. “I can’t believe you ripped out the paneling I put up.”
    “You installed the paneling?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Myra asked me to, a few years back. The Axelrods used to own this place. Randy never got around to putting the stuff up himself. But Debbie loved that paneling, big time. She even had me come over and spruce up the finish on the wood just a few months ago.”
    My heart sank. A half-dozen people had apparently had access to the paneled wall. With that lack of privacy, the letters and necklace might as well have been stuck to the refrigerator door. I said to Kevin, “Since you and Taylor are heading across the street anyway, would you two mind unloading the lumber in the back of my van?” Earlier I hadn’t gotten anywhere with this request to Taylor, but a brief stint as my pack mule was the very least Kevin owed me for leering at me so rudely.
    He said, “We’d be happy to.”
    “Thanks. Please be especially careful with the bedposts.” The tiger-maple legs and headboard posts had been the one item I’d managed to have premade, despite the busy time of year, and I was protective of them and proud of my design. I tossed Kevin my keys.
    Taylor had been waiting at the front door listening to our exchange. Now he asked Kevin, “So I’m s’posed to build an entertainment center? What, like, a shelf unit for the stereo and TV?”
    “No, Taylor,” Kevin grumbled as Taylor opened the door. “We want you to build us an entertainment center, as in a series of trapezes and a water slide. My wife, Jill, happens to be a chimpanzee.” He rolled his eyes at me as he shut the door behind them.
    An hour later, Carl had finished sanding the wall, and we primed it with an acrylic wallpaper primer. Carl wasn’t a naturally chatty person, and I eventually gave up on trying to draw him into conversation, most of which had been geared to my private agenda about determining who was responsible for the hidden photograph. The only salient points that I managed to glean were that it had been Randy Axelrod who’d insisted upon hiring me to work on this house, and that Randy and Myra had always lived alone.
    Randy, it seems, had told Carl that he was familiar with my work by virtue of his having inside information as the editor of a design magazine. As much as my ego begged me to accept that explanation, the photograph burning a hole in my pocket suggested that he’d used his editing job as a convenient ruse. My hunch