Innkeeping with Murder - Tim Myers [46]
The man was relentless. Alex said, “If you’re worried about your clients losing interest in the property, don’t. It’s inevitable. I couldn’t afford replacement value on my policy, so I won’t be attempting to rebuild it. I don’t know how much I’ll be getting, but I know it won’t be enough to cover all of this damage.”
Without the extra money those rooms brought in during peak season, he was finished as an innkeeper. The wisest thing to do was to see if the buyer would still be interested in acquiring the property, at a reduced rate of course, then take the insurance money and leave Elkton Falls forever.
No one had ever accused Alex of doing the wisest thing.
Finster must have misinterpreted Alex’s expression. He leaned forward in a conspirator’s gesture. “Tell you what I’ll do. Let’s go down to my office as soon as everybody leaves. You can sign the offer sheet, I’ll date it yesterday, and nobody will have to be the wiser. That way this setback won’t touch you. You can pass the loss off to the new owner. It’s a sweet deal, Alex. You’d better jump on it.”
Alex didn’t try to keep the disgust from his face. “That would increase your cut of the commission, too, wouldn’t it?”
Finster stroked his chin. “Hey, you win, I win. Who cares about the buyer? What do you say, have we got a deal?”
Alex had suddenly reached his limit. All of his anger shot out at Finster.
Alex jammed his index finger hard into the real estate man’s chest. “Get the hell off my property this instant. If I so much as see your Cherokee anywhere near Point Road, I’ll run you into the bushes. Now go.”
Finster started toward his car, then turned back. His face livid, he shouted, “You’ll be sorry for threatening me, I’m a big man around these parts.”
Alex yelled, “Finster, get out before I kick your fat ugly butt all the way back to the town limits.”
Finster hurried to his Cherokee and drove off in a spray of gravel. Alex turned to find several of the firefighters cheering heartily. A chorus of “Yeah, Alex” and “Way to tell that old windbag” accompanied him as he joined their ranks. Somehow the confrontation had left Alex feeling dirty. He hated losing his temper.
The fire chief cut Alex out of the crowd and pulled him toward the back of the remains of the building. The firefighters took it as a cue to go back to work patrolling the area immediately surrounding the burned building.
Chief Weston was a small, wiry man who looked like an elf in a Christmas parade. Alex had personally seen the man lift timbers that would have stymied Mor Pendleton.
The chief looked coolly into Alex’s eyes. “You just made yourself one mouthy enemy there.”
Alex grunted. “He’s had it coming for a long time. Finster just picked the wrong man to go after today.”
Chief Weston nodded once. “I couldn’t agree with you more. Still and all, you’d better watch your step around that fellow.”
“I don’t think I’ll have any more trouble from him, Chief, but thanks for the advice.” Alex kicked at some of the rubble at his feet. “Mor tells me you think this is arson.”
The little man nodded in agreement. “They didn’t try to hide it too hard, either. We found a gas can overturned by the back part of the house.”
“So whoever set the blaze couldn’t be seen from the lighthouse.”
The chief said, “That’s about right. I hear you’re having your share of troubles over here.”
Alex offered a weak smile. “That’s putting it mildly. Did one of my guests call the alarm in? I want to thank them myself.”
A puzzled expression crossed the fire chief’s face. “That’s kind of curious. Mor Pendleton telephoned to say he was out here and for everyone to come quick. From what I hear around town, he’d been spending, quite a bit of his free time at the inn.” The fire chief scratched his chin. “You should be glad he saw the flare-up in time. Otherwise you could have lost everything but the lighthouse.”
Weston’s wife ran the town’s only pet-grooming salon, so it didn’t surprise Alex that the man had the latest word on everyone’s behavior, in or out of the Elkton Falls city limits. It