Scoop says that doughnuts are not really all that good for you.” Cooley poured himself a cup of coffee. “Even though they taste great.”
“You make the coffee?”
“Duke left instructions.” Cooley tapped an index card thumbtacked to the wall above the pot. “Pack basket to top. Cook overnight.”
“Overnight?”
“My mother used to do that with turkeys,” said Cooley. “You should go home and get some sleep. Deanna and me can handle things here.”
“May just do that.”
“Claire called. Asked if you were free for dinner tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
“Buffalo Mountain. Around six. You’re to call if you can’t make it. I would have checked your appointment book, but you don’t have one.”
Thumps took a long look at the percolator, decided against it. “Call me if anything comes up.”
“You know who did it?” Cooley glanced back at the holding area. “Grabbed Greeley?”
“Maybe.”
“Cool delivery service,” said Cooley. “Sort of like FedEx for criminals.”
WILD ROSE REALTY was at the far end of Main Street, an ordinary storefront with large windows. Most of the glass was papered with real estate listings. Houses for sale. Houses sold. Ora Mae Foreman was behind her desk, staring intently at the two monitors.
Thumps walked to the middle of the office, stood there as though he were waiting for an audience with the queen. “What happened to the rest of your team? Your niece and nephew?”
“Sent the rascals back to their mother to enjoy an expensive university education.” Ora Mae didn’t look up. “Convinced them that they didn’t want to go anywhere near real estate.”
“Scare the children, frighten the horses.”
“He said you’d show up sooner or later.”
“I’m supposing the ‘he’ you’re referring to is Cisco Cruz?”
“Only white man I know looks as good in black as me.”
“He’s Latino.”
“Point is, he ain’t Black, and that’s the end of it.” Ora Mae pushed back from the monitors. “So, the answer to your question is . . . client confidentiality.”
“I haven’t asked a question yet.”
“When you do, the answer will be . . . wait for it . . . client confidentiality.”
“Pretty sure it doesn’t apply to real estate.”
Ora Mae lined Thumps up in her crosshairs. “It does if I say it does.”
“Don’t worry,” said Thumps. “Not going to arrest you. Don’t have any room at the jail right now.”
“But, as it turns out, this is your lucky day,” said Ora Mae. “My client has waived her rights and has advised me to answer any and all of your questions.”
“That would be Nora Gage.”
“Should you have any.”
“I know she’s renting a place out at Ironstone River Estates.”
“Renting to buy,” said Ora Mae. “To be precise.”
“Which means exactly?”
Ora Mae flashed a smile. “She’s renting right now, until I can convince her to buy.”
Thumps smiled back. “Why would anyone buy a house in Ironstone River Estates?”
“You talking about the flood-plain hiccup?”
“Bit more than a hiccup.”
Ora Mae stood, went to a large map on the wall. “That’s going to be resolved.”
“The developers going to build a water wall after all?”
“Conan & Fallon Ltd.?” Ora Mae snorted. “You know what the ‘Ltd.’ stands for?”
“Limited?”
“As in limited liability, maximum profit. Last time anybody saw those boys, they were running for the jungle.”
“I’m just surprised they were able to sell any of those houses.”
“Then you’d be surprised by who bought them.”
“So, surprise me.”
Ora Mae pressed her lips together, made a zipping motion with her fingers.
“You know house sales are public record.”
“Then you can look it up. What I can tell you is that folks who own property in that particular part of the world have hired a nasty old law firm. Going to file suit against C & F, the town, the county, and most likely the state and all the saints in heaven. Six months, a year at the most, the whole thing will be settled.”
“And just how do you settle something like that?”
Ora Mae ran her finger on the map. “This is the line of the flood plain.”
“Okay.”
“The lawyers will run up a whack of billable hours. There’ll be depositions and geological studies enough to sink Manhattan, and in the end, the line will be moved.”
“Moved?”
Ora Mae moved her finger. “Presto chango, no more flood plain.”
Thumps didn’t try to mask the indignation. “Which won’t keep the area from flooding.”
“Not my problem,” said Ora Mae.
“You going to sell those houses?”
“If I get the listings.”
“That’s immoral.”
“Unethical,” said Ora Mae. “It might be unethical.”
Thumps stared at the map.
“You and Claire should grab a place while the grabbing’s good.”
“On the flood plain?”
“Prices in Ironstone River Estates are depressed at the moment,” said Ora Mae. “But as soon as they move the line, values are going to shoot back up. Do you know the last time that part of the Ironstone flooded?”
“Global warming,” said Thumps. “Severe weather. Climate change.”
“Eighty-two years,” said Ora Mae. “People want to be on water, and living on water has its risks.”
“Nora Gage and Cisco Cruz?”
“Don’t you want to know the prices? There’s a really nice lot overlooking the rapids.”
“Nora Gage? Cisco Cruz?”
AS IT TURNED out, Ora Mae didn’t have a great deal of information. Nothing much on Cruz that Thumps didn’t already know. Even less on Nora Gage.
“Cruz called me. Said he needed a rental, someplace secluded and quiet. Upscale with a view. Ironstone River Estates was perfect.”
“Gage’s rental is on the river. I thought people couldn’t live in those houses.”
“At present, it’s what we in real estate call a ‘grey zone.’
” “As in, don’t ask, don’t tell?”
“As in.”
Thumps was on the sidewalk outside Wild Rose Realty, trying to remember the distinction between “immoral” and “unethical,” when he felt his cellphone vibrate.
“Hey, boss. I wake you?”
“What’s up?”
“I wasn’t going to call ’cause you were going home to get some sleep. So, I didn’t want to disturb you . . .”
“Cooley . . .”
“Right. You should probably get back to the office.”
“Because?”
“Greeley,” said Cooley. “I already called Dr. Mooney.”
Thumps started back up the street to the sheriff’s office at a quick walk. Now that he thought about it, “immoral” and “unethical” were pretty much the same thing. Both were tied to a set of agreed-upon standards. The word he had been searching for in his discussion with Ora Mae and dynamic flood plains was “amoral.”
BETH AND COOLEY were waiting for him when he cantered into the office.
“You can slow down,” said Beth. “He’s dead.”
Thumps stood up straight, tried to slow his breathing. He could feel the sweat pooling up on his shirt, armpits, and back.
“It’s hot out there.”
“No, it’s not,” said Beth.
“What the hell happened?”
“Don’t know,” said Cooley. “Took his order for supper. The choices were a cheeseburger or vegetable lasagna. He went with the cheeseburger, hold the onions and mayo.”
“Cooley . . .”
Cooley gave a low snort. “I can see the onions, but who doesn’t want mayo?”
“Cooley . . .”
“So, when I got back with the food, he was on the floor.”
The door to the cell was open. Stan Greeley was lying face up next to the chair.
“I tried to revive him,” said Cooley. “You know, CPR, but nothing happened, so I called Dr. Mooney.”
“Turns out the dead guy who turned out to be alive is the alive guy who is now dead.” Beth shook her head. “You’re going to have a lot of fun with this one.”
“Any idea what killed him?”
“Nope,” said Beth. “You want me to speculate?”
“Sure.”
“When he got knocked over that cliff, he messed himself up pretty good. If he had stayed in the hospital, they might have caught something on a scan.”
“But he didn’t stay,” said Thumps. “He walked away as soon as he got there.”
“I’m guessing he was hurt more than he knew. Probably cerebral edema.”
“English?”
“An intracranial hematoma.”
“Not helpful.”
“He hit his head,” said Cooley.
“He hit his head,” said Beth.
“Enough to kill him?”
“You hit your head,” said Beth. “You think you’re okay, but the brain doesn’t like the trauma, and it starts to swell. Could take minutes. Could take hours. Days, in some cases.”
Cooley nodded. “He said his head hurt.”
“I rest my case.”
“He sort of looks like we beat him up,” said Cooley. “In the autopsy report, you might want to mention the fall he took out at the river.”
Beth nodded. “Is that Jenga?”
Cooley went to the desk, took a block out of the centre of the tower. “You want to give it a try?”
Beth shook her head. “Have enough annoyances in my life already.”
Thumps held up a hand. “Greeley?”
“Sure,” said Beth. “I’ll take him back to my kitchen, open him up, see what’s cooking.”
“You mind if I eat his cheeseburger?” said Cooley. “No point it going to waste.”