Wine, Dine and Christmas Crimes by Maria Swan (brene brown rising strong .txt) 📕

Those weasels. That would keep sellers and listing agents from finding out who the investors were until it was too late to back out. Ah! Now it made more sense. And obviously Sunny wasn’t getting directly involved.

Who better to use than Monica Baker, the naïve newbie? That way Desert Homes was still getting the usual cut, and neither the sisters nor the sellers knew that Kay was in it, and I bet Dale Wolf made a lower than low offer while the condo was still sealed off from the public as the owners grew more and more concerned about declining value. Brilliant.

If it was so cleverly conceived, how come I felt more like the sacrificial lamb than a lucky Realtor getting paid for doing almost nothing?

The ample space in front of the high-rise had quite a few vehicles parked in hopscotch manner. Looked like Cox, a commercial cleaning company, APS? Huh, must be serious if most of the local utilities companies were present. And all had showed up at the same time? Weird. Shouldn’t they be using the service entrance?

My cell chimed. “Hi, Kay, I’m idling at the front entrance, where should I park?”

“Oh, good, I caught you right on time. Can you drive into the garage? Just circle to the underground elevators, and I’ll come down and hand you the paperwork. It’s better that way, we’ll keep it all under wraps until we have an accepted offer.”

“Wait, wait. I’ve never been in the garage. I hate those catacombs-like places. I get claustrophobic.”

She laughed. “Relax, you won’t even need to get out of your car. You just drive toward the back of the building. You can’t miss the entrance. The gate wasn’t working properly due to the electric problems, so they forced it open, and it will stay like that until the electricity is back to normal. See you in five minutes. No need to park. Stay close to the elevators. I’ll find you, I mean...a hot pink car?” She laughed.

I didn’t like it at all. She didn’t need to be mean. And I was telling the truth. And the detail about electric problems didn’t help. What if the elevator got stuck? Or did it function on special generators? Please, God, let me out of here.

I had always avoided underground garages. They gave me the heebie-jeebies, and there was nothing I could do about it.

I followed Kay’s directions, and the entrance to the garage was the easy part. I found it interesting that while the front of the building was crowded with commercial vehicles, the garage had none. I drove into what I considered the open jaws of hell, and the place wasn’t too bad by the entrance, not many cars around. I assumed most of the residents had day jobs they drove to.

As I advanced deeper into the cavernous place there was no more natural or electric light. The only bright spots were the elevator signs. Although they seemed to twitch. With a sigh of relief, I pointed my Fiat into that direction.

I parked myself smack in front of the two elevator doors and kept the car humming, the minute Kay handed me the contract, I would zip out of there. Time passed, slowly. The engine still hummed. I rolled down the window, my anxiety rising. Deep down I knew I wasn’t really suffocating, but still, I had difficulty breathing.

Had to do something. I punched Kay’s number. It chimed, and chimed and—nothing. Come on, Kay, come on.

Maybe she was in the elevator, and the cell didn’t work in there.

Don’t look at the clock Monica, don’t look at the clock.

Engines noise and faint voices came from somewhere outside. Maybe from Camelback Road or from all the utilities workers scrambling around. My sense of direction and reality started to slip. That was it. I had to do something.

I killed the engine and got out of the car. Six steps and I found myself staring at the elevator doors. If Kay doesn’t come to you, you go to Kay. Mohammed was a wise soul.

I stretched my finger to reach the call button when the light announcing the arrival of the lift next to it lit up.

What a relief, it must have been Kay. I took a step back, jiggling the car keys in my hand. The door whooshed open, and to my disappointment instead of a tall, smiling Kay, a burly hard hat utility worker in full gear stepped out. Damn. What now?

I had no choice, I stepped into the cabin and tripped on—a shoe? Attached to a foot. NO. I recognized Kay’s hair. She was on the floor in the corner hidden from the door. She looked like a folded over broken doll.

“Kay, Kay.” I bent and shook her, tried to lift her head but couldn’t because a powerful hand had lifted me up, grabbing my hair and dragging me out of the lift.

“Get back in the car,” Walter the doorman ordered.

I tried to talk. He slapped me with his free hand while still dragging me by my hair.

Tears welled in my eyes. “Wait, wait. Kay needs help. Here, take my key. Take my car. Please. Go.”

His fist hit me just below the nose. I inhaled something dusty or maybe it felt that way as I started to cough. He pushed me into my car from the passenger seat while I kept offering my car keys.

Once he let go of my hair I heard a sharp click, like when the key released from my Realtor lock box. Instead, what Walter had released was the blade of a knife which he pushed against my neck between my right ear and the collar of my sweater. I turned on the ignition. I tasted blood in my mouth on the left side where his fist had landed.

Don’t cry, Monica, don’t give him the satisfaction.

My eyes looked straight ahead. I waited.

“Go straight out the gate, no funny stuff. Turn left, and don’t slow down, no matter who tells you