A Margin of Lust (The Seven Deadly Sins #1)(37)

"The cap was missing. I checked."

"Doesn't that seem a bit strange to you? Coincidental?" Gwen had a lot of time to think while she'd been waiting for him to return. "I mean, first the cockroaches, then on the day of the open house, a dead bird in the stove pipe?"

Lance massaged his temples. "Maybe. I don't know. Old places are unpredictable."

"I've never heard of a sudden infestation of roaches from a chimney flue. And how did that sticky stuff get in it?"

"No. It was weird. Definitely weird."

"And this, this, smell thing. You were here yesterday, right?"

"Yeah."

"Did you smell anything then?"

Lance shook his head.

"Wouldn't it have to kind of build up? I mean, it depends on how long the... thing... the animal has been dead. If it's this overpowering today, you'd think you'd have smelled something yesterday. Even if it was faint."

"I don't know. I was touching up the paint. Paint has a pretty strong odor. Maybe it masked it. Or, maybe it's been there for a couple of days and just started to stink."

Neither said anything for a beat, then both spoke at once.

"We have to call—"

"We'll have to cancel—"

Gwen stopped talking.

"We'll have to reschedule the open house for tomorrow," Lance said.

"How do we get the bird out of the vent?"

"I don't know. I'll figure it out."

"Lance," Gwen's voice faltered. "I'm afraid. I think someone is sabotaging us." She told him about the conversation she'd had with Investigator Sylla the day before. "What if it's him, this Moray person?"

The tense lines of his face melted into something softer. "Let's not get paranoid. It's a strange coincidence, granted, but I don't see any connection between the murders and a couple of roaches." He stepped forward and put an arm around her shoulders.

Gwen buried her face in his chest. The spicy scent of his cologne wrapped around her head and drove away the stench of decay.

#

Gwen's phone buzzed from somewhere under her desk. She followed the sound to her purse. She'd stowed it there when she arrived at the office. Someone had called on the Sailor's Haven house an hour ago, and she'd stopped by work to get her lockbox key before heading down.

"Hey." It was Lance.

"Hey, yourself. How's it going?"

"Well, it turned out the critter was a rat, not a bird. That's why it smelled so terrible. The removal guy said rats are the worst."

"Nice," Gwen said with a shudder. Her dislike for rats was only second to her loathing of roaches.

"He hooked the thing and pulled it out of the vent with a rope. Then he sprayed with some biological chemical."

"How does it smell?"

"I aired everything out and burned a few candles. Smelled fine when I left."

"Thanks for handling that," Gwen said, her voice growing soft.

"Not a problem. On my way out, I noticed the flier box on the curb is empty. Is there a chance you could refill it this afternoon? It might help pull people in tomorrow. If not, don't worry about it. We can bring down more in the morning."

"I can do that." Gwen opened a drawer and found the master flier for the house. The color photograph printed on it was lovely. The landscape company they'd hired had done a great job cleaning up the vines and bushes. Lance had repaired the rickety fence. Even the fig tree had been tamed by a good pruning. "The house looks so benign in this picture. No one would believe what's happened there."

"Gwen..." Lance's voice sounded tired.

"I know, I know. You think my view of the place has been tainted by the murder. Of course, it has. You're right. But, things haven't gone exactly swimmingly since."

"I've worked on a lot of renovations. The older the house, the more booby traps it has. I've seen stuff you wouldn't believe."

She wasn't going to argue, especially because she didn't know what to think. The idea that someone was trying to undermine the sale of the house did seem a bit farfetched. But she also had a hard time accepting the cockroaches and the rat were just coincidence. "I'm at the office now, about to head to Dana Point. Someone wants to see Sailor's Haven. I'll swing by Laguna on my way."

"You sure you're okay with dropping off fliers alone? I already put the lockbox on the side of the house, so you don't have to do that. Don't even have to open the gate." She could hear the laughter in his words.

Gwen made a stack of fliers on the copy machine in the office then headed out to her car. A pebble of anxiety dropped into her stomach as soon as she turned north on the Coast Highway. The ripples spread in wider and wider circles the closer she got to Cliff Drive. By the time she pulled up to the curb in front of the house a whirlpool of stomach acids churned inside her.

All she needed was to open the plastic holder underneath the "For Sale" sign and drop the fliers in. She wasn't afraid. Not exactly. What she felt was more a marriage of dread and disappointment.

This listing was going to make her career. That's what she'd once thought. Now she couldn't wait to unload the place. She put the papers into the box, got in her car and turned south. She had fifteen minutes to get to Dana Point.