Chapter 2 #2
Neither Finette nor Iggie ever spoke in a dull whisper. They always wanted to be heard, as if by forcing people to pay attention, they raised their status.
“Love the gadgetry tips he shares,” Iggie said. “What’s new?”
Finette pulled a pen from her tote. “See this? It’s a digital pen that records whatever you hear, say, and write. It pairs with audio recordings or your mobile phone’s Notes app.”
“Love it.”
“I’ll send you a link.”
I said to Reika, “Why did you call Finette the devil incarnate?”
“She’s boastful. Her last exchange is a perfect example.
I peruse Burt’s blog, and I get all sorts of tips, but I don’t brag about them.
And I don’t buy everything he thinks is cool.
Who has that kind of free cash? I think Finette does, hoping Iggie and others will be impressed. Pfft. She’s not hot stuff.”
Recently, I’d gotten to know Finette, because I’d attended a few town council meetings, plus she’d come to a neighborhood watch gathering I’d thrown at my house.
She lived around the block from me. Generally, she was nice, but yes, she could be a braggart.
I recalled a conversation at the neighborhood gathering where she told me how she’d come up through the ranks in the political sphere, working on real estate projects first as an assistant and then as a project boss.
According to her, her tech savviness had given her a leg up.
After she’d made a name for herself, she ran for office.
I wondered if heading up the town council was as high as she aspired to go.
Maybe she would set her sights on becoming mayor.
“Look how she swishes her tawny hair about.” Reika fingered her tight gray curls. “It’s vain.”
How do you really feel? I mused but didn’t voice the words.
“And don’t get me started on Iggie,” Reika continued.
“He’s rude and crude and reminds me of Homer Simpson, with his florid cheeks and his rotund belly.
How he can be as good at golf as he claims to be is unfathomable.
And his thinning hair! He’s always patting it into place.
” She mimed the action. “As if it’ll help. Ha!”
“Having good looks or a fit body doesn’t guarantee you can swing a club,” I teased. “However, I will agree with you about his character.”
I didn’t know Ignatius Luckenbill II well.
He wasn’t a reader, and I’d never catered an event for him.
Even so, he had a reputation for being a puffy blowhard with a kiss-my-tush attitude.
I’d read accounts of him in the news. He’d made his mark as a real estate developer by putting many of his competitors out of business.
Whenever he could, he’d maligned them. My father had once opined that Iggie’s father, from whom he’d inherited Luckenbill Construction, had been equally shrewd, with a take-no-prisoners approach.
“If only the police had proved he burned down his last project,” Reika said. “But, alas, the arson inspector couldn’t find any evidence. If I were a betting woman, I’d guess he’s wooing Finette so he can make a bid for the properties Mr. Gardner wishes to purchase.”
“I got the impression Jason had sealed the deal.”
“Jason?” Reika arched an eyebrow. “You’re on a first-name basis?”
I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “We met a bit ago, when he stopped into Feast for the Eyes while Tegan and I were doing inventory.”
“Uh-huh.” She smirked. “Well, don’t call him a property owner yet.
He still has permit hoops to jump through.
If he doesn’t qualify, the properties will be back on the market, and I’ll do a full-court press to convince the preservation society donors to scramble up the cash to make the highest bid and preserve the properties, as we’d intended.
If you’ll excuse me, my aging bladder calls.
I must use the loo.” She took Amira along.
I eyed Iggie and Finette again. They’d joined the line of people ready to order.
Iggie was fiddling with the cuff link on his right sleeve and bumping into customers without apology. “We don’t need another developer in town,” he said, loudly enough for the entire place to hear. “If anybody is going to design the future of Bramblewood, it should be me.”
“You,” Finette said, disdain dripping off her tongue.
“All my properties are premier. As you well know, the community surrounding the golf course is top notch and in demand.” He’d upgraded the area about three years ago.
The houses were expensive. The club memberships were costly, as well.
“What do you know about this—Dang it. Help me with my cuff link.” He held out his arm to her.
She slipped her cell phone into her tote and did as asked; then she pushed his arm away. “You’re welcome.”
“What do you know about this guy named Jason Gardner?”
“I know he’s smart. Talented. Wealthy—”
“Admit it, you know next to nothing,” Iggie interrupted. “He’s got money. Big deal.”
“He’s originally from Bramblewood but relocated to California when he was ten.”
Why hadn’t Jason mentioned his roots at the bookshop? Vanna hadn’t seemed to recognize him or his name, but then she was a number of years younger.
“Do you have an appointment with him?” Iggie asked. “Is that why you’re all dolled up?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Finette hissed. “I always dress for success.”
When Iggie reached the head of the line, he ordered a black coffee. “What do you want to drink, Finette?”
“A caramel macchiato with two pumps of vanilla syrup.” He pulled his cell phone from the inside pocket of his jacket, flicked a finger across the screen, and displayed the phone to the barista.
She rang up the purchase. I noticed he didn’t leave a cash tip.
Conceivably, he’d added one via the app.
“Give me a reason why you passed on my bid,” he said to Finette as he shuffled to the spot where completed drinks were placed. “You used to be my best cheerleader.”
“Once upon a time you were brilliant, with cutting-edge ideas and a vision for Bramblewood. Now? You’re stale. A hack.”
“Take it back.”
Finette shook her head.
“Is Gardner paying you?” Iggie demanded.
“Paying me?”
“Yeah. With jewelry? I’ve got eyes. I see you’ve got a new infinity necklace and ankle bracelet. I happen to know you’re stretched for funds, having to take care of your great-aunt. So, fess up. Is he bribing you? Otherwise, how you can afford the bling?”
“You … you … I’ll have you know I’ve purchased everything I own myself.
I’ve had this necklace and these”—she aimed a finger at her ankle bracelet and the bangles on her arm—“for years! I wear the infinity symbol because it fills me with confidence and radiates a sense of sophisticated style. It bestows upon its wearer a reminder of her potential and of the impactful relationships that shape her life.”
“Bullpucky. Sheer, utter rot! Why, I should press the town council to dismiss you.”
“Don’t take a tone with me, Ignatius.”
“Are you sleeping with Gardner?”
“Enough! Scrap the coffee. May you burn in hell, you … you … snake.” She turned on her heel and stomped out of Ragamuffin.
Reika exited the restroom at the same time, eyes wide. She’d heard what everyone else had. “Oh, that man!” She stomped past me to Iggie. “You imbecile.”
“Huh?” He looked dumbfounded.
“You’re mad because the town council didn’t grant you the rights to the properties and now you’re taking it out on Finette. Not fair. You’re slime. A boor. I don’t know what your problem is, but I’ll bet it’s hard to pronounce.”
Holy heck. For someone who, minutes ago, had referred to Finette as the devil incarnate, Reika was certainly going to bat for her. On the other hand, who better than her to do so? She was a vocal women’s rights advocate who’d led numerous marches for a variety of causes.
“At least Mr. Gardner promises his mall will replicate the historic look of the town,” she went on. “Unlike whatever you might construct.”
“Hogwash,” Iggie said. “The guy has all of you wrapped around his finger, but I promise you, he’ll make the mall as gawdy as the one he planned to build in Santa Monica, California, but abandoned. Do you hear me? It. Never. Got. Off. The. Ground.”
“I heard he was quite the celebrity in Hollywood.”
“He was until he wasn’t. ‘Why?’ I ask you. Because he’s a poser. A deadbeat. He lost interest in his last project, and wham! He hit the road.”
Why had Jason abandoned it? What was his story?
“Face it, he’s a flake,” Iggie continued. “A ne’er-do-well.” He took his beverage from the barista, told her to dump Finette’s order, pushed past Reika, and exited the coffeehouse.
I shuddered, recalling how Tegan had claimed tempers were flaring in the heat. In view of Iggie’s sketchy history of possible arson, I certainly hoped that was all that would flare up.