Death & Agrimony

Chapter 2

Frank, his cell phone parked on one knee, sat on the porch steps and gazed across the backyard. The boardinghouse had a sizeable yard, adorned with thick-trunked trees and tall, bright green grasses, fescue and maybe bluegrass, that flowed toward a distant wooden fence. He couldn’t remember what adjoined the property from the parallel street, but this lot and the two on either side had enough space between them to erect at least three like-sized structures. “I’m surprised, in a town so strapped for good housing, that someone hasn’t knocked over these three old houses and put up some new, affordable apartments.”

There was a light breeze, and it seemed to whisper across the porch, causing the wind chimes hanging from the rafters to jingle.

“Yeah, somebody would make a nice piece of change, especially if they sold to one of the bigger companies. Might be a good idea to find out if someone’s floated that idea.”

The back screen-door’s spring twanged as someone flung the door wide. Frank didn’t look around as it slammed shut. The woman’s harsh perfume, cologne, or whatever it was, always preceded her by at least ten feet. He waited, hoping the cantankerous landlady wouldn’t decide to park beside him.

“Thought I’d find you back here.” Mrs. Gombs stood over him, shedding cigarette ashes. “You on the phone?”

“No.” Frank dusted ash from his shoulder before reaching for his cell. He shoved it into his breast pocket. “What do you need?”

“Well, what do you think of that new gal?” She moved forward and down three steps, putting her level with his eyes. “Bimbo, right? Think she’s going to be a problem?”

He shook his head. She had to be the only person left on earth who used the word bimbo. And Frank didn’t like it. “I saw a quiet young woman who’s just looking for a decent place to sleep at night.” Frank stifled a frown as he gazed at her. “And Miss Pruitt…” He paused, allowing the name to linger between them. “…is damned smart. The books she has in that box aren’t for feather-weight brains.”

Her response was a sharp snort before drawing hard on her cigarette, its tip glowing brightly in the fading daylight. “Don’t mean she won’t be a pain in my ass. Especially if that boyfriend of hers keeps hanging around.”

Frank sighed. “He’s a nice guy, and he’s also smart. That young man is carrying a genius IQ.” He stood and stretched, causing the woman to back down a step.

But clearly, Frank hadn’t changed her mind. “So what? Smart don’t mean squat. Some of the worst people I ever saw was smart as hell. 

They just used it to do bad, was all. The world might be better off if it didn’t have so many smart-assed folks.” She rolled her eyes before asking, “How do you know so much about that boy anyway?” She blew out the smoke she’d been holding in her lungs.

Frank wondered how she did that.

He watched her for another long moment, considering whether he should, or even wanted to, answer her question. Frank preferred not to talk about his clients. But in this case, if it would help those young people have a bit of peace…

He leveled a steady gaze at her. “I’ve handled a few jobs for his father’s company. Never interacted with young Stanley, but I’ve seen him here and there. His father talks a lot about his brilliant mind and how Stan will make major contributions to the world someday.”

She snorted again, smoke leaking from her nose. “The only thing he’s going to contribute to the world is babies if he keeps chasing skirts.”

That gaze Frank had on her hardened, and he could feel his own heat rising. Time to move. “I’ll take a turn around the house, see if Miss Pruitt is staying, and give Stan a hand if he needs it.” He took the steps up to the porch, and then crossed it with two long strides.

“Check on that whole lot,” Gombs barked out behind him. “I don’t trust any of them.”

Frank might have yanked open the screened door with more force than needed, but he caught it before the wooden frame slammed. 

He wouldn’t demonstrate his feelings, not yet. But one day soon, he and the Mrs. would have a nice long talk about what it meant to be a civil human being.

That cool breeze had followed him in from the back porch. Frank stood for a moment, shaking his head. “No, I’m okay. I won’t let her yank my chain today.” He smiled. “At least, not much.”

The soft whisper of the wind lingered in the narrow hallway, a barely audible sigh.

“You’re more than right. It’s time to finish this up and get on to the next job. We’re out of here on Friday, one way or another.”

Frank removed a vintage tobacco tin from his blue coveralls pocket. He glanced around, and finding himself alone, stepped into the space beneath the stairs. The spot was unfinished, leaving the studs, braces, treads, and risers visible. In the upper area where light couldn’t reach, Frank tucked the container between two studs. He shook the surrounding structure to make sure the tin would stay put.

With that chore finished, he shoved a hand into his other pocket and squeezed a tarnished poker chip. “How you feeling? That should make things easier.”

A tiny bit of dust floated from somewhere overhead, propelled by the soft breeze.

Frank smiled. “Good.  Let’s see if the new kids are staying.” He came around and ran up the stairs to find Tabitha Pruitt and Stanley Pratt.