The photos Lacey had given to the police unleashed a maelstrom of questions about the death of Lou Miron. No longer convinced that his death was due to natural causes, the police had begun an investigation. His son was in jail without bond for breaking and entering, and under investigation for the possible murder of his father.
Lacey searched through her purse for her ringing cell phone, blinking back frustrated tears. She was a real estate agent, for God’s sake. They didn’t prepare her for this in any of her real estate courses.
“Hi, Mick,” she answered it dejectedly.
“I thought I’d check on you. Maeve said you went to the Miron house.”
Lacey sighed. “Yes, I had to take the contact information off the sign. I’m kind of tired of explaining the situation to interested buyers.”
“I’ll bet.”
Lacey looked out the window again, bewildered. “They have police tape all over the house. I had to get permission from the police to just take down the stupid sign. It’s surreal.”
“I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Just keep focused on your other clients.”
“You’re right. Frankly, I’m surprised that I haven’t lost clients over this. I was afraid my name plastered all over that front page article in the paper would put the final nail in my casket.” No pun intended, she thought ruefully, remembering how she had acquired this client in the first place.
“Don’t they say that any publicity is good publicity?”
“You might be right about that. My phone has been ringing off the hook. It seems there’s an odd subsection of the population who think it might be cool to have Lacey the Crime-Fighting Real Estate Agent sell their property.”
Mick laughed on the other end.
“I don’t know though, Mick. Maybe real estate just isn’t for me, anyway.”
“Don’t say that. You’re a great real estate agent.”
“That’s in question. But thanks. I don’t know if I really enjoy it though. I love taking care of people, walking them through a process, holding their hands through the ups and downs. But you know? I really hate the sales part. Maybe I should go back to school. Get my masters in psychology or social work. If I can make enough in real estate to cover some night classes, it might be possible.”
“That’s a great idea.”
Mick’s enthusiasm bolstered her spirits. “You really think so?”
“Of course. You’d be a natural in that line of work.” He paused. “Now, Lacey? Go home. Sitting there any longer can’t be good for you. Besides, you happen to have an invitation to a movie tonight from a rather hot-looking sailor.”
“Sounds wonderful. But tell Jack I’d prefer going with you.” Lacey brightened at the deep laughter on the other end of the phone.
***
Mick put his cell phone back in his pocket.
“How’s she doing?” Jack asked, tapping out something on his computer.
“Not great. I’m worried about her. She put so much work into that listing. I hate to see her lose it.”
“She can’t let it get to her, though.”
Mick pushed himself back from his desk. “She actually mentioned the possibility of going back to school so she could do something else. Something people-focused, but without the sales.”
“Like a psych, maybe?”
“Yeah, or social worker,” Mick added.
“I could see her doing something like that.”
Mick pulled his chair back into his desk and began clicking on his keyboard intermittently, his mind drifting.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jack tilt his head in Mick’s direction. “Might free her up to move, too. That is, if she ever wanted,” he offered noncommittally.
Mick’s back straightened. “Why would she want to move?”
Jack raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea.”
“There’s more keeping Lacey from marrying me than that.”
The corner of his mouth edging up into a smile, Jack’s eyes widened. “Who said anything about marriage?”
Mick bristled. “If I get back into the SEALs, Lacey would be miserable. She’d be worried all the time.”
“Uh, Mick, hate to point it out, but she’d be miserable and worried whether or not she was your wife. She loves you. Goes with the territory, man.”
Mick stood to look out the window, hoping some answers would spell themselves out in the clouds. Minutes passed in an uncomfortable silence, and Jack resumed typing.
“I actually looked at rings the other day,” Mick suddenly confessed.
Jack’s hands dropped from his keyboard, and he turned to read Mick’s face.