Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [170]
Tess glanced around the room. There were plenty of stacked boxes, but very little furniture. Perhaps the movers had only begun to bring in the heavy stuff. She wondered how much Maggie was able to take from the condo she and her husband owned. Tess knew the divorce proceedings were growing messy. Not that her client had shared any of this with her.
Everything Tess knew of Maggie O’Dell, she had learned from a mutual friend, Maggie’s attorney, who had recommended Tess. It was this mutual friend, Teresa Ramairez, who had told Tess about Maggie O’Dell’s bitter lawyer husband, and how Maggie needed to invest in a substantial piece of real estate or risk sharing—maybe even losing—a large trust left in her name. In fact, Maggie O’Dell had confided nothing in Tess, other than those necessities required for the business transaction. She wondered if Maggie’s secrecy and her aloof manner were an occupational hazard that carried over into her personal life.
It didn’t matter—Tess was used to just the opposite. Usually clients confided in her as if she was Dear Abby. Being a real estate agent had proven to be a little like being a bartender. Perhaps part of her colorful past had been good preparation, after all. That Maggie O’Dell didn’t wish to bare her soul was perfectly fine with Tess. She certainly didn’t take it personally. Instead, she could relate. It was exactly the way she handled her own life, her own secrets. Yes, the less people knew, the better.
“So, have you met any of your new neighbors?”
“Not yet.” Maggie answered while she stared out at the huge pine trees lining her property like a fortress. “Only the one you and I met last week.”
“Oh sure, Rachel…um…I can’t remember her last name. I’m usually very good with names.”
“Endicott,” Maggie supplied without effort.
“She seemed very nice,” Tess added, though what little she had gleaned from the brief introduction made her wonder how Special Agent O’Dell would fit into this neighborhood of doctors, congressmen, Ph.D.’s and their stay-at-home society-conscious wives. She remembered seeing Rachel Endicott out for a jog with her pure white Labrador, while dressed in a designer jogging suit, expensive running shoes and not a blond hair out of place nor a single bead of sweat on her brow. And in contrast, here was Agent O’Dell in a stretched-out T-shirt, worn jeans and a pair of gray Nikes that should have been thrown out ages ago.
Two men grunted their way through the front entrance with a huge rolltop desk. Immediately, Maggie’s attention transferred to the desk, which looked incredibly heavy and was quite possibly an antique.
“Where ya want this, ma’am?”
“Over against that wall.”
“Sorta centered?”
“Yes, please.”
Maggie O’Dell’s eyes never left them until the piece was carefully set down.
“Dat good?”
“Perfect.”
Both men seemed pleased. The older one smiled. The tall, thin one avoided looking at the women, slouching not from pain but as though he wasn’t comfortable being tall. They unwrapped the tape and unlatched the plastic fasteners from the desk’s many nooks. The tall man tested the drawers, then stopped suddenly, snapping his hand back as though he had been stung.
“Um…ma’am. Did you know you had this in here?”
Maggie crossed the room to look inside the drawer. She reached in and pulled out a black pistol encased in some kind of holster.
“Sorry. I forgot about this one.”
This one? Tess wondered how many the agent had stashed. Maybe the obsession with security was a bit over the top, even for an FBI agent.
“We should be done in a bit,” the older man told her, and he followed his partner out as though there was nothing unusual about hauling loaded guns.
“Do you have anyone coming to help you unpack?” Tess tried to disguise her mistrust, her distaste for guns. No, why kid herself? It was more than a simple distaste, it was a genuine fear.
“I really don’t have much.”
Tess glanced