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“Have time now?” Yannick focuses a laser gaze on Joe, willing him to say yes.
Joe blinks furiously, then rubs his eyes.
“JL has to get back home in the next few days. No time like the present, eh?” Yannick’s sly prod gets the agent to hold up a hand, then he sidles around the desk and out to the lobby.
When Joe gets back, a portfolio and a For Sale sign are under his arm. “Suzi says I have no appointments until much later in the day. You drive and I’ll follow.”
Like ducklings, they follow me out. “Should we take both cars or just drop you here?”
“Might as well all go together.” Joe looks at the Corvette with anticipation before climbing into the back.
Our trip from the office to Maman’s house is fairly quick. House dark, the beater in the driveway is a surprise.
Joe frowns, disgruntled. “You have another agent coming?”
“No. You are the only one we’ve contacted.”
Joe spends a little time looking at the front of the house, muttering, and taking photos with his phone. “I’ll have a professional out for the sale pictures. These are just for reference.”
“Fair.” I’m not concerned about who takes the shots. I’m itching to find out about the car. This is the problem with an empty house. I suspect someone is creeping around inside.
“Do you have a gun with you?” I whisper to Yannick.
“In the trunk. Do you want me to get it?”
“Better safe than sorry.”
He comes back with a .38 Special and a Glock and hands me the Special. Joe looks over. “What the…”
“Shhh. Keeping walking around out here, Joe.” Yannick runs around to cover the back door and I carefully walk up the front steps, glad my running shoes won’t make much noise. The front door is unlocked, and I curse softly as I ease it open. Once it’s free of the frame, I kick it, wincing as the heavy wood hits the wall.
“Come out,” I yell, holding the gun in a ready position.
A high keening noise comes from nearby. “JL? Is that you?” Angélique edges nervously forward, hands up, just like in the cop shows.
I lower the weapon. “Yannick. You can come back now. No one is going to run out.”
My pal saunters around to the front. Meantime, Joe has come up on the porch, giving me a quizzical look.
“You can put your hands down, Angélique. Tell me why the hell you’re here.”
She turns and walks back inside, and we trail behind.
Once in the living room, she plops into her usual chair. We all stand stiffly, looking at her. I fold my arms. “Well?”
“Your maman called and told me she is going into a nursing home for a while so I thought I would bring her a few things and check to make sure everything is all right with the house.”
“Where are the boys?”
“With my parents. At Stanley Park.”
“How did you get in?”
“I still have a key.” Her eyes regard me warily. “She never asked for it back.”
Two grocery sacks sit on the floor near her feet. Curious, I try to see what’s inside. She pushes them to the side, but one falls over. I catch a glint of gold. “Did Maman ask for anything specific?”
“No, she didn’t ask at all. Just doing her a favor.” She shifts around in the chair. Then, gazing at Joe, she asks, “Aren’t you that real estate agent who’s on the television?”
