CHAPTER 8
C HAPTER 8
T he Dixon and Dixon firm was exactly as their private investigator had described. Curtis’s group had employed former FBI agent Joel Blanchard on a number of occasions. Joel had spent over twenty years working on property crimes. He had two sons; one kept the books, while the other did Joel’s online research. Joel was fast, discreet, precise, and on point. Curtis stopped outside the architect’s entry and texted Joel, saying he needed to talk: ASAP. New project.
Then he followed Gloria inside.
The lobby was decorated with framed photographs of lovely homes, awards, drawings of prospective dwellings. Three AD covers were blown up to poster size. Gloria’s phone chimed with an incoming message.
She read out loud, “ ‘We’re tied up with a previous conference and need a few minutes.’ ”
“No problem. Do you have Rae’s telephone number? I need to send her a heads-up.”
“Well, of course you do.”
“You can wipe that smirk off your face or you can watch me go find another agent.”
“Oh, you.”
Curtis accepted the paper with Rae’s number, stepped back outside, and texted her requesting an urgent meeting. Tomorrow morning, if at all possible. The timing was crucial, and was in regard to a very important issue.
Joel Blanchard phoned while he was texting. “What’s up?”
Curtis asked, “Are you recording?”
“Always.”
“I need a rundown on two new issues. Both are time crucial, I need what you can give me tomorrow.”
“All-nighters carry an extra charge.”
“Understood.”
“Will this require online research?”
“Absolutely.”
“You don’t know, you can’t imagine, the moans I’ll have to put up with. Go ahead.”
“Rae Alden.” Curtis spelled her name. “She’s a local attorney. I need to know her recent background.”
“Recent, as in . . .”
“A bit about her law school would be good, but mostly I want to know her reputation since starting her practice.”
“Which means I’ll need to connect with people directly. I need a couple of days.”
“You can’t have them.”
A pause; then, “I’ll have a basic workup by midmorning. What’s number two?”
“Landon Barrett. He’s a property owner adjacent to our resort. We want to buy his home. Barrett is missing. Rae Alden has power of attorney. I’ve just learned she intends to put the place up for sale.”
“What does that mean, ‘missing’?”
“No idea. I’m hoping to put an all-cash offer on the table tomorrow morning. I need what you can get me.”
“Interesting.” A pause. “Okay, I’ll see what I can dig up. Call me . . .”
“Let’s say ten o’clock, I’ll text and confirm.” Curtis saw Gloria step up to the entrance and wave through the glass. “I have to go.”