She knew something of Jamie Finch. He was organized. He was driven. He dotted his Is and crossed his Ts. He was that kind of person. When you spend hours, as he probably does, frustration could build. Then, throw in a competing agent with a stellar record, rolling in the dough and who has been for years; and, considering that the competing agent might be ruthless, might keep things legal, but barely, well that could be a powder keg just waiting for a match.

  It could lead to murder.

  Once upon a time a man had a dream to be a real estate agent. It was all he wanted in life, but he also had dreams of living in mansions, owning speedboats, maybe a vacation home. Even though he knew it would take time to arrive there, he grew impatient. Then, he saw his big break. His client wanted a house worth at least a million. This was it! This would get the ball rolling, except someone else squashed those dreams; someone else stopped him at every turn; someone else knew how to play the game, roll the dice so it always brought him luck and no one else. The man, pushed to his limits, confronted the other agent; it enraged him more, until in an act of uncontrolled fury, he snuck up behind the man and pushed him over a railing. He plummeted to his death.

  “Ms. Baron?”

  Belle startled. “Um, yes.”

  “What do you want? Why are you here?”

  “You know, trying to be friendly. Give you a heads up that there’s been a murder. Jeremiah Fisher.”

  Henry Clay paled. “When?”

  “Yesterday, after Jamie’s big showing. I’m sure Detective Graystone will be by.”

  “Thank you for informing us. Now I’m sure you need to see to your own rinky-dink business.” His phone rang, and he ducked back into his office and shut the door.

  Insufferable! What a clever way to dismiss someone and insult them at the same time. She wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he was kicked out of any local business owner organization.

  She heard the voices again from down the hall. Henry Clay, back turned, was on the phone, so she strolled closer to Jamie’s office and stood outside, listening. Well, waiting for her turn. She couldn’t help it if they didn’t close the door and talked loudly.

  “How many others are interested in that particular house?” a woman asked.

  Sound of shuffling papers. “I don’t know exactly. I haven’t heard how many bids have come in since the open house.”

  Did Jamie not know about Jeremiah’s death? She supposed it wasn’t being broadcast as Lucas collected information. She wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up here soon.

  “Have you been able to talk with the selling agent, talk him down at all?”

  “No, Mr. Fisher said his client was firm on the asking price. I can put in the bid today, then we wait. Maybe we should consider other homes. There are some which have recently come on the market.”

  “No. I want that one. Anyway, I didn’t see too many there that acted excited about the property. Maybe that will be in my favor?”

  “That could be because of everything that happened,” Jamie said, somewhat drily.

  “Oh, you mean the ghosts? That doesn’t bother me. People die in their homes and they don’t want to leave. It’s what’s familiar to them. I understand that. Anyway, it adds character.”

  Belle shifted on her feet. It must be Jamie's client. Hannah? The whole ghost thing could be her lucky break, but did she really think those noises were a ghost? Yes, it had creeped Belle out when she’d been alone upstairs. Especially, at the first wailing. But then, it became repetitive. Time to crash their party.

  She gave a quick knock, then entered Jamie’s office. They both startled, then stared at her, surprised she interrupted a private meeting.

  Jamie tried to disguise his dislike at the situation, at seeing Belle again, but she saw it. She plopped down in the chair next to Hannah. “I couldn’t help but hear the talk of ghosts.”

  “Yes, is there something you wanted?” Jamie asked, curt but polite.

  “I just thought you’d both like the most recent update.” Belle threw out there, hoping they didn’t kick her out, which they had every right to.

  Hannah leaned forward. “What’s that?” She sounded panicked. “Did the house sell? It sold, didn't it?” She slumped in her seat. “I knew we should have put the bid in before the open house. I knew it!”

  “No, nothing like that.” She paused, then said, “The ghost noises were a recording.”

  “Or,” Jamie said, thoughtfully, “it was a cover to hide the fact there is a ghost.”

  Belle honestly didn’t know what to say. She tried more facts. “They found the actual device. If you listened carefully, you could hear the sounds were repetitive. Whoever created this ghost, didn’t do a very good job.” In fact, Belle bet Lexie could throw together a more convincing ghost soundtrack, or one of her friends whose parents allowed them access to phones.

  Time for a little detective work. Time to reveal the bigger shocker from the previous day. “I suppose neither of you have heard the latest tragic news?”

  Hannah, again, grew frantic. “Did something happen to the house? Was there a fire?”

  “No, nothing happened to the house.” She studied their expressions, the way they sat, the look in their eyes. Did they know? Was she in the room with the killer?

  “What is it?” Jamie sighed, as if please, get on with it and leave us alone.

  “Jeremiah Fisher was murdered.”

  Jamie’s mouth dropped open; the pen fell from his hand. He didn’t know how to contain his glee while at the same time, showing proper remorse.

  Hannah straightened in her seat and had no problem expressing her opinion. “Let’s move on this. If we put in a bid or if you talk to the agent who takes over, maybe you can talk down the price. Play the ghost angle.” She looked at Belle. “Where was he found?”

  “In…the house.”

  “You mean, the open house from yesterday?” Jamie was dumbfounded.

  Belle nodded in the affirmative.

  “Aha!” Hannah cried. “If there was a recent murder in the house, that should definitely bring down the asking price. I would be surprised if anyone still wants the place.” She took a moment to think about what she said. “I’m not sure I still want it. How gruesome.”

  “Yes,” Belle said. “This was a murder. Not a broken window.”

  “Hmm.” Hannah stood. “I’ll need to think about it. I’ll get back to you, Jamie. Maybe next time our meeting won’t be interrupted.” She left the room.

  Jamie shot to his feet. “What were you thinking? You can’t just walk into my office when I’m in the middle of a meeting.” He paced the room. “How long were you standing outside before you burst in here?”

  Belle chose not to answer because she didn’t want to lie. “Well, the police aren’t broadcasting anything yet, and I thought you might want to know.”

  “Sure.” Then it was Jamie’s turn to pale, grow fidgety. His voice dropped. “That means the killer could have been at the open house. Walking among us.” He sucked in a breath. “It’s like on television.”

  Belle imagined Jamie’s packed day, hours of showing houses, talking with clients, doing the research, then crashing on his couch, zoning out to a screen. Not that she would blame him. She used what he said to shape how to question him. “Yes, I was there. It is strange to think Jeremiah was there, alive, and today, he’s gone. Ruthlessly pushed from the second-story railing.”

  She waited to see his response to that.

  He said, “Brutal.” His expression showed nothing but shock.

  “In fact…” Belle leaned back in the chair, “I noticed you and Phil Graystone deep in a heated conversation. I’m going to guess it had something to do with Jeremiah. You were furious.”

  Her statement distracted him. His eyebrows lowered, his lips twitched, like he was remembering all the reasons he was mad at Jeremiah Fisher. “I was trying to get Mr. Graystone to rein in his agent. Jeremiah is ruthless. A cut-throat pirate in the realty business. He has enough money. There’s no need to…” It was like night and day. The moment he realized he needed to stop talking.

  Belle must have appeared too eager, like she was ready for a murder confession, and he read her like a mystery novel.

  He sniffed. “I have nothing to hide. I’ll tell anyone who asks that Jeremiah was stealing sales out from under me. He has also stolen clients. He walked all over the little guys in the business. It was wrong. That’s what I told Phil Graystone. He had a cheater working for him.”

  “Jamie, where were you yesterday afternoon about the time of the murder?”

  “When was that?” He searched his desk like he could flash receipts that showed where he was at that time.

  “It was within a couple hours after the open house ended.”

  He somewhat deflated. “I was driving through the nearby towns, researching. Yes, I can see houses online, but I know the tricks of camera angles and lighting. Sometimes, I need to see the properties in person. You’d be amazed at what owners try to hide.” He zoned out, thinking, staring at the papers on his desk. “This could be good,” he muttered, more to himself. “There’s a ghost. Now a murder. No way can they sell that house at asking price.”

  “The ghost wasn’t real,” Belle said.

  “No one really knows that. Houses can be haunted, you know.” He narrowed in on Belle. “If real estate agents went around committing murder in houses, picking off competing agents, there'd be no one left. It’s part of the business.”

  “Who do you think killed Jeremiah Fisher?”

  “Not me,” he stated, a bit too enthusiastically. “I’d look at that other agent, Mia Harmen. She was skulking about the house the entire morning. Looked positively guilty, like she was up to something. Definitely, Mia Harmen.”

  Images of Mona streaking across the yard appeared in Belle’s mind. It wouldn’t hurt to ask. “Jamie, did you happen to see a woman at the open house? Red hair. Glasses.”

  He thought for a moment. “Nope. Too focused on the ghost.”

  Chapter Seven

  Lucas sat in the squad car for a few minutes, just looking at the grand office building of Graystone Estates. Working here could have been his life. He could have been a realtor, climbing his way up the ladder, selling homes out in the community. At times, he doubted his decision. It would have been nice to be side-by-side with Dad. Lucas knew his dad had wanted to pass the business onto him.

  Lucas also knew his heart wouldn’t have been in it. He would have been doing it just to make someone else happy. That wasn’t what anyone should base their career around. Pleasing someone else.

  Now, here he was. About to go inside and question Graystone agents.

  It would be no big deal, except for what could only be an argument he had with his father the day before. It wasn’t left anywhere close to being resolved. He had a strong suspicion it wouldn’t be until the murder was solved.

  Well, his higher-ups hadn’t taken him off the case yet.

  Why didn’t his dad want him on the case? Lucas was motivated. He was a good detective. He cared. The alibi was one of the worst he’d heard. Mostly because it sounded fake. Shopping. Errands. But with no purchases.

  Time to go inside. He should officially question his dad, but he couldn’t quite work himself up for that. Which, he knew, was a red flag, a reason he should step down. He would after he talked to Jamie Finch, after he knew who was taking over the case.

  He decided to enter through the side door. He was familiar with Graystone Estates. He knew by using this side entrance he was less likely to be seen. Lucas almost always listened to his gut instinct, but in this case, he was ignoring it one-hundred-percent.

  He knocked on Mia’s door.

  She opened it, motioning him inside. He made sure to shut the door.

  He’d make it quick. Ask his questions, then leave.

  “Hello, Mia. Detective Graystone.”

  She giggled. “Yes, I know who you are. Your dad brags about you all the time.”

  “He does?”

  “Of course. Every time you solve a big case. He brings in the newspapers and everything.”

  That just made him feel worse.

  Mia Harmen, at first glance, was an average real estate agent. Always dressed professionally, as she was now. Hair perfect, makeup perfect. From what Lucas remembered, dressing and looking nice could be the difference between signing a client, or them walking out the door to find another one. It was all about appearance. Given how many years she’d worked in real estate, she had to be well off.

  “What do you think of Jeremiah’s death?” Lucas asked.

  She didn’t respond right away. After a few moments, she said, “I’m not sure I’d call it a death, Detective. That sounds too mild. Like he passed away in his sleep peacefully. No, it was murder. Violent and horrifying.”

  “I agree, Mia. Why do you think Jeremiah missed out on a peaceful passing much farther down the road?”

  “You mean, why do I think he was killed?” Color crept into her cheeks. “It’s no secret he didn’t have many friends.”

  “Isn’t that putting it nicely?” Lucas knew the man was hated.

  “Maybe. But I try to say only kind things about people, especially after they’ve passed.”

  “I understand, but that won’t help find his killer.”

  She sighed, looked down before responding. “Fine. He was strongly disliked. He made enemies everywhere he went. He didn’t even attempt to play the game.”

  “What game is that?”

  “Social etiquette. He didn’t even try.”

  “Some would call that honesty, almost refreshing.”

  “It usually can be. At events or open houses, he’d always steer away from the crowds, and find time to himself in the backyard. Something like that.”

  “Maybe he knew he wasn’t a nice person and tried to prevent a situation where he’d have to talk to people.”

  “You’re being much too kind. He could be downright cruel. But then, he knew when to plaster on what could barely be called a smile and play his clients like the bongo drums.”

  Lucas wasn’t sure that was the right analogy, but he understood what she was saying. “What did people think of him here in the office?”

  She glanced at the door like she wasn’t comfortable talking about her coworkers. “I’d say there was what you’d expect. Some idolized, begged for crumbs, any bit of advice he’d give. Some despised him. Some were envious. Some didn’t care. Some feared him.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “In all honesty, while I’ve been here, I’ve probably run through all of the above. But I’ve learned that it does me more harm to hold onto negative feelings.”

  Lucas noticed she did a very good job of answering the question but not really answering. “I can imagine the envy.”

  “Of course there is.” She tilted her head. “Detective Graystone, isn’t there job envy in all fields? Always someone who makes more money, gets the promotion or recognition, moves ahead. I suppose it’s worse in the competitive environment of selling realty, but I knew that when I signed on for it.”

  “I’m sure. But you probably didn’t envision working with someone like Jeremiah.”

  She laughed. It came out harsh. “That’s for sure.”

  Lucas leaned forward. “Who would you put at the top of the suspect list?”

  “Oh, definitely his wife.”

  His wife? Why was this the first time hearing of a wife? Maybe because he didn’t look for it. Maybe because he assumed Jeremiah was a bachelor.

  Mia continued, “She’d come in on and off, beg for money. She wanted—no deserved—more of an allowance. She’d threaten to sue. They’d have big fights. I even felt bad for him. They’d separated, but it was obvious not everything was resolved, or even close to it.”

  He shifted gears, feeling his time running out. “Tell me about this big bet you had going with Jeremiah.”

  “Oh, that silly thing.” Yet, she appeared flustered. “I suppose you want the details.”

  He nodded. “Yes, I do.”

  “It really was silly. It was at a social event, one of the rare ones Jeremiah attended. Everyone was a little tipsy, even him. He was even being somewhat social. I might have seen him smile. We were joking back and forth”—she looked away, embarrassed—“until, in a drunken fervor, I proposed the bet.”

  “What was it?” Lucas envisioned high stakes.

  “I bet I could make more profit than him in the coming year.”

  “That year is almost over?”

  “Yes, but it’s been wonderful for me. I’ve never been more motivated. I’ve had my best year, all because of this bet. I regretted doing it initially, because he used it to taunt me whenever he had a sale, but secretly, it was one of the best things for me. I was grateful.”

  “What about Jeremiah?”

  “He’s had one of his best years, too.”

  “What about the sale of this house?” Lucas asked. “Would that have pushed him too far ahead for you to catch him?” Yes, he knew what he was implying. Mia probably did, too. But that was his job.

  She shrugged, very casual about the question. “Maybe. Maybe not. I still have a few possible sales.”

  “I know you have work to do. Just one last question. Where were you yesterday afternoon, the few hours after the open house?”

  Lucas sensed his father’s presence before he spoke.

  “Detective Graystone, a word.”

  This interrogation was over. Lucas knew that from the firm tone of voice. His father led him right out the side entrance.

  Lucas expected a scolding. He expected anger and frustration. He expected a confrontation.

  “Lucas, I need you to leave. Please don’t return until this investigation is over.” He sounded firm. He looked determined.

  “Dad, I’m trying to help.”

  “This isn’t helping. You should not be investigating this case and you know it. I put in the call this morning to the station to ask for a different detective.”

  Lucas bit back the frustration at his dad’s lack of communication. Never mind the fact the whole situation felt like he went behind his back. “At least tell me where you were yesterday afternoon. Why were you late to lunch?”