Page 55 of Clawed
It didn’t matter what time it was.With their mutual satisfaction assured, they could both rest, and he could finally breathe again.
Chapter Twenty-One
House Inspection
Graham Cole
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ROGER BISCOMBE HADbeen trying to get inside the property on Ocean Gardens for weeks.But out of the country on business meant his efforts were thwarted, so he’d asked his agent, Graham, to go to the house on his behalf.Graham, a busy man in his own right, hadn’t exactly been enthralled with the task.He had more than one client to attend to, but more than that, he just didn’t enjoy being by the sea, and—as the name of the road suggested—that was where the house Roger wanted him to go to was situated.It had taken Graham another fortnight to pluck up the enthusiasm to take Roger’s spare key and actually go to the house.Peering up at the exterior, he could see why Roger had outsourced the job.
The property on Ocean Gardens was in disrepair.Run down and in need of more than a lick of paint, the house had been on Roger’s ‘to-do’ list for years, but it had never taken precedence over the dozen other places he was constantly renovating.After all, that was how the two men knew each other.Roger bought properties, usually at auction, and he reconditioned them, while Graham acted as an agent to those who wanted to buy and sell those houses.
The small house by the sea had never been a priority for either man.There had always been a bigger, brighter, and shinier distraction to occupy them.That, Roger promised him, was what the new business opportunity overseas represented, but Roger would need to sell the ramshackle oceanside house to help fund the new potential project.
Standing at the bottom of the steps leading to the house, Graham pulled his jacket tighter around himself.He hated the sea.The wind was always so cold and the looming gray water so unappealing, but Roger had practically begged him to go there and check on the place.He wanted Graham to take stock of how much work needed to be done to create a return on his investment, or whether it was Graham’s opinion that Roger should just accept a financial loss in order to get rid of the place quickly.Staring up at the pebble-dashed house, he couldn’t understand why his client had ever been interested in the place, let alone why he assumed anyone else would want to buy it.
Still, he’s paying me.
He rolled his eyes as he tugged the key from his pocket.
Hopefully, I’ll be in and out within a few hours.
Reaching the top step, he paced toward the front door.The door looked about as secure as the rest of the place, but he was surprised at how shiny the metal surrounding the lock looked and what limited light there was glimmering from its shiny circle.It was as though a new lock had been fitted, but if Roger had ordered one, why wouldn’t he have also updated the windows and the tired-looking door?What was the point of a new lock if the door was dilapidated?Roger wasn’t the kind of man who cut corners.Changing the lock alone wasn’t his style.
Bewildered, Graham slid the key into the metal slot, expecting it to relent immediately and let him inside.When, after a few attempts, the key wouldn’t turn in the lock, a crease appeared in Graham’s brow.
He’d picked up the right key, hadn’t he?His heart rate increased as he checked the plastic tag hanging from the key.Graham had so many clients and properties that it was possible he’d inadvertently taken the wrong one, and he’d kick himself if it turned out that was true.It had taken him the best part of an hour to get to the desolate house, and he still had the return journey to look forward to.The last thing he needed was an additional round trip to collect the correct key.
Relief emanated through him when he read the hand-scrawled label and realized he’d taken the right key.Whatever the problem with the house’s lock was, it wasn’t on him.Yanking the metal from the lock, he walked a few strides in the direction of the enormous front window.The panes were dirty from all the coastal weather and months of never being cleaned, and behind the glass, grim, uninspiring net curtains prevented him from seeing inside, but there was no doubt in his mind.That was the right house, and he had the correct key.
So, why can’t I get in?
Walking to the tall side gate, he reached over the top to unhook the rickety wood.The entrance swung open as though the hinges were scarcely coping with the effort, and Graham slipped over the threshold into the garden.The paved walkway that had once led around the side of the house to the back door was entirely overgrown, the grass and weeds wedding to create something of a jungle.He fought his way through them to reach the only other entrance to the property.Holding the keys aloft, he identified the one for the rear of the house and slid it into place, but try as he might, he couldn’t get the damn door to budge.
Frustrated, he yanked harder at the door handle, noting the rear lock also seemed more pristine than the rest of the place.Had both locks been changed without Roger telling him?He banged his fist against the wood at the door’s refusal to open.Why would Roger change the locks and not tell him?He was usually so meticulous with the minutiae, but as it was, it looked like he’d sent Graham to the coast without having access to the property.
