Page 4 of Devil in the Details

She might be right. If it hadn’t been for his ability to shapeshift and teleport, a few of the confrontations he’d had with Hendricks’ demons might have turned out very differently.

All the same, he didn’t like to use those powers any more than he had to. Sure, Calach had been banished, and Caleb didn’t think he’d picked up on any signs of other demons lurking around the greater Las Vegas area since then, but still, there was always the chance that he might be giving away more than he intended every time he needed to make a demonic flex.

“But I promise I’ll do everything I can to not stand out,” he said. “Well, except not try to win. There’s a big chance I’ll wash out in the first round, though.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” she replied, then set down her coffee cup. It was black, too, although with a glaze that had certain washes of beige, the perfect complement to the black soapstone counters with their veining of pale tan.

“I’m not sure I’m capable of that,” he said with a grin. “Anyway, are you available to walk the other house today? I know it’s Saturday, but — ”

“It’s fine,” she broke in, her smile mirroring his. “I didn’t have any big plans today anyway. And I understand you wanting to get the place on the market as quickly as possible.”

The words ended on a slight upward inflection, almost as if she was trying to figure out whether the cost of the remodel had turned out to be more than he’d planned. As with any other project of that scope, it had gone over budget, but not by too much, only around $20K or so.

And that hadn’t been enough to put even a dent in the money he had stashed in various banks and credit unions around town, especially now that he had a financial advisor who handled his stock portfolio and had already earned him more than double that, thanks to some very wise investments.

“I do like to keep as much liquid as possible,” he said, and her eyes danced, telling him she’d noted the evasion but wasn’t about to call him on it.

Instead, she asked, “Do you have a spare set of keys to the other house?”

At once, Caleb pulled out the little envelope with the keys he’d had made at Lowe’s just two days earlier, when he’d finally admitted to himself that he wanted to keep the Pueblo Street house and dispose of the other one. “It’s ready and waiting for you,” he said. “The house cleaners were there yesterday, and it’s in great shape. I’ll disable the security system from my phone so you won’t have any trouble getting in.”

“Perfect,” Delia replied. “I’ve got my camera in the car, so I’ll just go ahead and shoot the photos while I’m walking the place. That’ll speed up the process.”

Because Delia, unlike quite a few other real estate agents, didn’t rely on her iPhone to take pictures of her listings. No, she had a big professional Nikon and made sure to massage everything in Photoshop before she posted it, so Caleb knew the other house would get the best possible presentation.

They chatted a little bit about the current real estate market, but then she excused herself, telling him that if she went and took the photos now, she should be able to get the listing up by the end of the day.

“And with any luck, someone will snatch it right up,” she said as he walked her to the door. “With interest rates down, most properties are moving pretty fast, and there isn’t a lot of inventory. And I know the house having been featured on a cable show back in the day will probably help, too, if only because people will probably look up some of the video clips online. That’ll make my job a little easier.”

“I’m sure your excellent photos would be enough,” he said, and she only shrugged.

“Maybe. But it never hurts to have a secret weapon.” A pause as she shifted her purse strap on her shoulder. “Anyway, once I have the listing put together, I’ll email you the password so you can take a look at it before it goes live. That way, you can fix any mistakes.”

“I doubt there’ll be any,” he said with a smile, and she only shrugged again.

“Oh, you’d be surprised. Little things tend to slip through even when you’ve read something over a dozen times.”

He supposed that was true, or else he wouldn’t have caught the typos that had popped up in some of the books he’d read in college, books he assumed had been vetted by multiple editors.

“Sounds like a plan,” he said.

Delia gave him a wave and then headed down the front path to her car. As she went, her bright hair blazed in the sun, bouncing against her back.

Damn, she was beautiful.

Too bad he’d probably never have the guts to tell her.

Chapter Two

On this bright, sunny day — not that Las Vegas had much of anything else — Caleb’s current home looked more like something out of the Brady Bunch than ever. Like the house on Pueblo Street, this one was mid-century in design but more modest in size, not quite 2,300 square feet. Certainly big enough for a family, if not nearly as showy.

Delia parked at the curb, then went around to the rear passenger side of her SUV so she could open up her camera case and extract her beloved Nikon D850, which almost always rode back there. While she supposed she could have pulled up in the driveway, she wanted to get an unobstructed view of the garage and the house as a whole so it would look as appealing as possible.

Ten snaps from different angles — she always shot at least twice as much as she thought she would need — and then she slung the camera strap over her shoulder and headed for the front door. After getting out the little envelope with the spare keys, she unlocked the door and went inside.

The foyer’s floor was covered in slate that she guessed was original to the house, although the rest of the flooring was luxury vinyl plank that she assumed the flippers had installed when they completely remodeled the home a few years earlier. Delia took photos of everything, from close-ups of the flooring to a panoramic view of the great room with its floor-to-ceiling fireplace and the overhauled kitchen beyond. When the house was built, it probably had many more walls, since home layouts were a lot more compartmentalized back then, but now it was mostly wide open spaces.

As Caleb had said, everything looked neat and clean, almost like no one lived there at all. One mug sat on the kitchen counter, as if he’d had his coffee and then hurried off to the other house without taking the time to rinse out the cup and put it in the dishwasher.

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