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CHAPTER 47

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DONNIE, THE BABY, AND I followed Harriet and Nigel up the street to their house.

Or, to be precise, to where their house used to be.

“Well, Barda.” Harriet sounded almost accusing. “Seems you were right all along.”

“Me?” I stared at the sloping pile of rubble, dark and ominous in the twilight. “What do you mean? What happened to your house?”

“What house?” Donnie asked. “Where?”

“Dass not a house!” Francesca giggled. “Dass a rocks!”

“Rotten luck, what?” Nigel said.

“You were right about Linda Wilson, that self-important, bloviating cow,” Harriet fumed. “She’s a mean, cheeseparing skinflint who refuses to maintain her property to a decent standard and doesn’t give a fig about people’s houses sliding into graveyards when they least expect it.”

“The retaining wall gave way?” I asked.

“Didn’t even put up a fight. Just as you predicted, Barda.”

“What did you predict, Molly?” Donnie asked.

“I’m not an expert or anything, Harriet. I was only asking about it because it looked a little unstable to me. I mean, rocks kept breaking loose and falling down into the cemetery.”

“Are you saying there was a livable house here?” Donnie asked. “I’m sorry, I haven’t spent a lot of time walking around the neighborhood.”

“Until just a few minutes ago,” Harriet said. “The only warning was a sort of vibrating sensation underfoot. Nigel and I got out just in time.”

“Did you call Linda?” I asked.

“She’s not picking up,” Harriet said. “We went round to knock on her door and she’s not answering that either.”

“We’ve nowhere to go,” Nigel added. “I suppose we’re lucky to be alive.”

Donnie and I looked at each other. He gave me a nod.

“Our rental unit’s just been fixed up,” I said. “They’ve repaired the fire damage. I mean, if you don’t mind that Mr. Henriques...um...”

“Why don’t you come spend the night?” Donnie interrupted.

“Ah, just like old times, eh darling?” Nigel said to Harriet.

“What?” Donnie said.

“Barda, you’ve got a vacancy then?” Harriet said to me. “This is opportune.”

“A vacancy? Yes. Yes, I guess we do.”

“Okay, great,” Donnie said. “I’ll go get my car. We can move a few of your things down before it starts raining again. Seems a lot has happened since I’ve been gone.”

“I’ll come with and fill you in.” Harriet trotted downhill to join Donnie and Francesca. “Back in two shakes.”

This was terrible luck for Harriet and Nigel, but all things considered, it was a stroke of good fortune for us. We weren’t likely to get better tenants than Harriet and Nigel Holmes. They were eccentric, sure, and my being Harriet’s department chair was a little awkward. But they weren’t going to throw noisy parties or vandalize the property. And I knew I could count on them to pay the rent.

Linda Wilson wouldn’t be happy about our poaching her tenants. Too bad. She didn’t maintain her property. It was a wonder no one was hurt. Linda had no one to blame but herself. Not that it would make any difference to her. She would still think of some way to blame me.

Nigel was already poking through the remnants of the collapsed house.

I went over to join him and examined the rubble to see what I could safely salvage.

“Here, let me help,” I said. “I don’t know what’s important, but—”

“No, no, please,” he insisted. “We’re already causing you enough trouble.”

“No trouble at all.” I saw the corner of a check stub poking out of the rubble and tugged it free. “We keep new toothbrushes and spare sweats just for guests. Tomorrow’s a school day, and...”

Something on the check stub caught my attention.

“OMH dot com?” I read.  “Why does that sound...”

I looked up to meet Nigel’s gaze. Nigel’s complexion normally tended toward the florid, but in the sodium light he looked practically purple. And despite the cool evening, he was sweating.

“Silly for us to be poking about in the dark like this,” he stammered. “Not sure what I was thinking, really. We might as well head over to yours, take care of this tomorrow when it’s daylight.”

“Nigel,” I said. “OMH dot com? Is this OutsourceMyHomework dot com? What is this?”

Nigel gulped.

“You mustn’t tell Harriet,” he pleaded.

You wrote those business plans for my students. It was you, wasn’t it?”

“Well, I...”

“Party Pooper?” I demanded. “Toot Sweet? Urine Luck?”

“Yes, that was rather good, if I do say so—”

“You taught at Balliol College! And here you are enabling academic dishonesty! What were you thinking?”

“You don’t understand, Molly.” Nigel looked down at the rubble beneath his feet. “Harriet thinks I’ve found a publisher for my memoir.”

“There are other ways to make money besides writing for an essay mill,” I said. “Legal, non-scummy ways.”

“It’s not to do with money,” Nigel said quietly. “We’ve got loads. It’s just that Harriet is so proud of me. She’d be crushed to know the truth.”

I saw the headlights of Donnie’s car coming up the street.

“I won’t tell Harriet,” I said. “Okay? But Nigel, you have to promise me two things. First, if you’re going to be renting our place, no more of this essay mill business. I’m legally liable for any criminal acts you commit on my property and the last thing I need is to get caught up in something like this. Tell Harriet you’ve already gotten the full amount of your advance and have that be the end of it. Don’t worry about royalties. Most books don’t earn out anyway.”

“Fair enough.” Nigel dabbed his eye with the back of his wrist. “What’s the second thing?”