The Good Neighbor Read Online Free PDF Page B

likeliest scenario, Colt decided she was wrong; he decided furthermore that it was evidence of some kind of plot. He would investigate later. For now, he considered wandering be hind the house to explore the backyard again, but he didn’t want to miss the agent when she finally pulled up, because he wanted to give her a good dose of the Eye of Doom, which was one of his most effective business techniques. It was the look he used when he had fixed on making a deal, no matter what the body count. The agent’s name was Marge Westerbrook, and after their initial chat on the phone, Colt thought he had her number pretty well: divorced, raising one child on her own, lonely. One of those women who pretended real estate was an actual career. It wasn’t that he was psychic. It was that Marge Westerbrook felt obliged to tell everyone her personal details over the phone, before she’d even met them. This was a habit Colt despised—people talking too much about themselves.
    “She’s fucking late,” he snarled for the third time.
    Francie sighed. It had been her hope that exposure to the coun try air would teach Coltrane how not to be in a hurry all the time. She could see now that this would take longer than a few minutes. “Do you still like it here?” she asked him, hoping to distract
    him from his own impatience. “The house, I mean?”
    30 W ILLIAM K OWALSKI

    He paused, lifting his head, smelling the air like an animal. “Sure,” he said. “Kind of place I always wanted.”
    “Really?”
    “Uh-huh.” Colt got back in the driver ’s seat, sniffed again, and let loose with a sneeze that rocked the car.
    “Jesus,” he gasped. “I wonder if I’m allergic to something.” “I didn’t know that about you,” she said.
    “I’ve never been around these many damn plants before,” he said, looking in the glove compartment for a tissue. “Plants every where you look. It’s like they’re invading or something.”
    “No, I mean about the house. I didn’t know you always wanted a place like this.”
    “Oh, that.” He found one and blew his nose. “Yeah. Always thought, you know, when I was a kid, I’d have a country place someday. Everyone who’s anyone has one. Forszak has one, re member? Good idea. Somewhere to get away to.”
    She wanted to ask him, But do you love it? Or do you just want it because of Forszak? But questions along these lines irritated him be cause they were analytical, and she had no right to be analyzing anybody. Instead, she got out of the car and leaned on the roof, looking across the road where the river lay hidden from view be low the embankment. Instantly she felt better about everything, even the dwindling number of things in her life that had nothing wrong with them. You could be invisible over there, she thought. You could be down there soaking your feet in the water and no one would be able to see you. Not a soul.
    “Here she comes,” said Francie.
    She had spied a yellow Volkswagen, one of the new models, raising dust as it came around the bluff. Colt got out of the car and slammed the door.
    “Half an hour she made us sit here,” he said. “Could of called.
    She has my cell number.”
    “Colt, please,” said Francie. “Be kind.” “Good Lord, she drives a bug,” said Colt.
    The Good Neighbor 31

    The Volkswagen scrabbled to a halt in the gravel driveway. A large, florid woman got out, already trilling at them before she closed her door. She had red hair, wore a flowery-yellow printed top with black slacks, and in the crook of one arm she cradled a clipboard to her oversized bosom as though it was a nursing child. “Helloo!” she called. “I’m so sorry, my son wouldn’t change his shirt, I just . . .oh, teenagers. Hello there, sir, are you Mr. Hart?”
    “Hello,” Colt said, shaking her hand. The Eye of Doom, he felt, had gone unnoticed, but he had only loaded one shot; he didn’t re ally feel like causing trouble today. He would save that for negoti ating.