Page 8 of A Murderous Crow
Going for a cool one-point-four-two-five million, the Dickinson-Exley House was an 1890 crown jewel of a Victorian, complete with witches’ peak and a unique one at that. It wasn’t a room under the witches’ hat. It was a round sitting porch, and it wasgrand.
She was agorgeous,historical, three-bedroom, three-bath, with parking on the property. Three thousand eight hundred and seventy-one square feet of historical elegance withbeautifulpressed copper ceilings throughout, working gas and wood-burning fireplaces and stoves, and golden glowing wood trimand banisters throughout. She had shelving everywhere inside, from bedrooms to sitting rooms to a lovely and cozy in-home library or office space. While the people living here now were rather minimalist by comparison to what I felt like Hal was looking for, this place had spaces, nooks, and crannies aplenty justbeggingto be filled with antiques.
She even had classic cast-iron tubs and fittings in more than one bathroom, as well as beautiful stained-glass windows.
She had been impeccably restored and maintained throughout her lifetime, and she was justperfectif I did say so myself.
Her current owners were overseas on a trip, which was just fine by me. I sat in the beautiful kitchen, my Jag parked out back, and worked diligently, looking through listings for my next client, just sure I’d be putting in an offer on this one for Hal within moments of his arrival.
He arrived with a light rap on the kitchen door to the back of the property, which, I confessed, scared the life out of me! I jumped, pressing a hand over my heart between the panels of my halter-style jumpsuit.
He’d startled the hell out of me, but it took me no time at all to shake it off and to clack across the kitchen’s stone tiles to unlock the back door with a laugh and a toss of my long hair over my shoulder.
“You got me more nervous than a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs, honey!” I greeted him gaily, and immediately I noticed that he was a man aglow with maybe slightly too much drink.
He greeted me familiarly, a hand at my lower back as he leaned in to kiss each cheek, which I didn’t think much of. He seemed relaxed, and it was a typical European greeting.
“Now this!” he exclaimed, sweeping out his arm, and I smiled warmly.
“Yeah?” I asked. He followed me in, and I shut the door behind us. My phone, laptop, and keys were on the kitchen counter, and I took up my phone and slid it into my pocket.
“This is beautiful!” he exclaimed, taking in the pressed copper ceiling and the gleaming stone countertops. He slid a hand along the counter, and I swallowed hard as he looped his index finger through the ring of my keys and swung them, catching them in his palm. He fidgeted with my keys, and though I wasn’t alarmedyet,my intuition was stirring again.
I shoved her away and said, “Come see the rest of the first level. If the kitchen impresses you, I can’t wait for you to see the drawing room.”
I toured the home with him, and with each room, he seemed more and more enamored. My hope and excitement grew that this might be it – and that I could put in an offer. As far as most clients were concerned, this hadn’t been too bad, but then, it all went pear-shaped all too fast.
He wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me in, trying to kiss me – for real this time – in one of the upstairs bedrooms. I turned my head, pushed back, and said, “Hey, no.” But he persisted, and I ended up, in a desperate bid to get him to stop, coming down on his foot in one of my spiked heels. I was grateful that even though my feet hurt like hell from being in them all day, that I’d chosen the unconventional shoes because I hadn’t bothered to have this jumper hemmed, and these were the only shoes that would allow the outfit to work for now.
Ridiculous fashion over function saved the day, because he shouted and let me go. He balled his fist around my keys and, hand wrapped around my upper arm with bruising force, sank his fist into my gut, crying out, “You little bitch!”
I doubled over, winded, and he dropped me. I went to all fours, trying not to gag and vomit from the blow, while trying desperately to draw air. He thought I was down, and yeah, I mayhave been – tears pouring from my eyes and unable to breathe – but I was alreadymovingfor the hall, scrambling on all fours.
He swore behind me and launched himself at me, tackling me around my waist, but sliding over the tan linen pantsuit to my knees. I kicked and kicked again. My heel caught him in the cheek, and he let go. My keys fell to the carpet, but I didn’t go for them, because that meant goingcloserto him, andno fucking way!
I scrambled to my feet, still retching, trying to breathe, chest feeling like it would explode, and I made it to the stairs. Unfortunately, they were the ones goingupbecause he burst out of the room, face bleeding under one eye and making another crazed and savage grab for me, but I was up the stairs.
He caught me around the ankle, and I went down, screaming, kicking, my lungs finally working as I lost a shoe and he lost a grip. I made it to the top of the flight and in a door, slamming it closed between us, throwing the lock, and backing away.
I took my phone out of my pocket and scrambled to text Fabian and managed to get out –He’s going to kill me – 911 – 911! 14 W. Duffy
Crash!
I screamed and dropped the phone. The door held, but I didn’t know how long it would.
“You get out here, youfucking little bitch!” he screamed. His accent was so thick with his anger and drunkenness that it was barely comprehensible.
“Mr. Lindstrom, stop!” I cried and tried to reason with him as my butt hit the tile and I scooted back toward the tub and scooped my phone back up. The screen was cracked in half, and the lower half, where I would dial, was flickering green and then black, while the top half remained normal.
“I’m calling the police!” I lied, but I couldn’t. My phone was damaged, so I couldn’t dial. I prayed my text to Fabian made it through and that the police were already on their way.
Chapter Six
Corvus…
I was in the Porsche, just about to leave the Manse after a late dinner with the boys, when my phone buzzed twice and the screen lit with an incoming text.
I had texted Savannah just a little earlier – to annoy her about a matter that really could have waited until tomorrow – but I was feeling petty, as she’d disturbed me days ago with an equally petty text after hours.
