On the other side of the Southerland house, Carole explained that the Sweetwater Cove house she was showing him would be complete in about two months. There was still time for Win to choose his colors, appliances, flooring, light fixtures, cabinets and counter tops. “The developer will soon move in the house that he’s building next door, and….”
“What the hell?” Win galloped down the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” Carole called after him.
“My car alarm’s going off!”
With a wet tennis ball in his hand, Kurt stood in the driveway near the gleaming black Porsche.
“Hey, kid! What the hell did you do to my car?” Win grabbed Kurt’s shoulder with one hand, drew his other arm back, balled up his fist.
“Don’t hit me, mister!” said Kurt. “The ball hit your car, but the car’s not hurt. I checked. Honest.”
“Turn the boy loose. Do it now,” said a furious Sam. King growled. His lips curled, his teeth looked like ivory daggers.
Win relaxed his grip, stared at Sam and King. “That kid hit my car with a ball. And this is none of your business.”
“Win, let him go!” Carole hurried into the yard.
“Carole, what’s going on?” asked Aurora, running toward them. She clutched a-two-by four.
Win stared at the man ready to defend the boy, at the woman holding a board, at the dog poised to attack. “Hey, I wasn’t going to hurt the kid. Just wanted to scare him a little, teach him it’s not polite to throw balls at expensive cars.” He released Kurt, laughed.
“Aurora, Sam, this is Win Ford, a client. Win, meet Aurora and Sam Harris. Aurora’s my best friend.” Carole looked at Win. “Would you please shut that car alarm off?”
She turned to Kurt. “I’m sure this was an accident. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am. I was throwing the ball for King and aimed wrong. I didn’t mean to hit the car. There’s no dent or anything, see?” He touched a damp spot above the door handle.
Win examined the door, ran his hand over it, pulled a linen handkerchief from his back pocket and wiped a piece of grass off the door. “No harm done,” he said in a now charming voice. “Can we be friends?” He held out a hand to Kurt.
Kurt looked from Aurora to Sam. “I, I guess so.” He shook Win’s offered hand.
“Now that we’re all buddies, why don’t I take everybody out for lunch?” Win said. “To show there’re no hard feelings. Hey, even the mutt can go.”
“Sorry,” said Sam and Aurora in unison. “We have things to do.”
“But I’ll treat you to the most expensive place on the lake.”
“Sorry, but no.”
“Okay, then. Suit yourself. Maybe some other time.”
“I doubt it,” Aurora said.
“Aurora, be polite,” Sam muttered. She glared at him.
Win opened the car door. “Get in, Carole. I’m not interested in this house. Take me to the next one on your list.” He gunned the engine and waited for Carole to buckle up.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, Aurora,” said Carole. The Porsche squealed out of the driveway.
King sniffed. His nostrils twitched. With nose to ground, he trotted around the side of the house.
“He’s picked up a scent.” Aurora hurried after her dog. Seconds later King stopped in front of a mud-colored portable toilet in the back yard. He sat, barked three times, pawed the closed, battered door. Aurora grabbed his collar.
Sam studied the door. “Nobody could have any privacy in there. The door’s barely hanging on. The lock’s broken, too. I’m going to open it. Stand back, this might be ugly.” He opened the creaking door.
Aurora wanted to cover her eyes, but she couldn’t look away. Had King found Tom Southerland?