“I threw uponetime!”
“Six times.”
“Whatever. How are we getting in there? Is that smell enough to get us in the door?” Nick nodded at the mammoth arched wooden door recessed into the long front porch.
“I have a better idea,” Weber said, pulling out his phone and heading in the direction of the For Sale sign.
* * *
Ten minutes later,the metal gate creaked open, and a shiny, white SUV rolled up the cracked asphalt of the driveway. A tall, lanky woman got out with a big, let-me-sell-you-something smile and sunglasses. She wore a purple skirt that showed off long legs and a sleeveless matching tank that showcased nicely muscled arms.
“Gentlemen! You obviously have great taste if you’re interested in this property. It’s the perfect fixer-upper for a handy couple.”
“We’re definitely not a couple,” Nick said. Burt let out a happy bark and swished his tail in the dead leaves on the driveway as if volunteering to be part of a couple.
“Investors with vision then,” she decided. “I’m happy to show you around.”
“Are you Haley?” Weber asked, stepping forward to shake her hand.
“I am. And this beautiful riverfront estate could be yours for a bargain-basement price.”
Haley was about to be very disappointed.
“I’m Detective Weber, and this is my consultant, Nick. We’re investigating a missing person that we think may be connected with this property.”
Haley deflated. “Well, hell. You really got my hopes up.”
Burt trotted over to her and leaned into her lower body comfortingly.
She blew out a breath and stroked a hand over his gigantic head. “Nice sparkly dog.”
“His name is Burt,” Nick said, making the introduction.
“Man, I’ve had this albatross of a mausoleum hanging around my neck for two years. Two years!” She kicked at a pine cone with very pointy shoes.
Burt trotted off to retrieve it.
Haley blew out a sigh. “Badge.”
“Excuse me?” Weber asked.
She hooked her fingers. “Let me see your badge, please.”
He held it up.
She grimaced. “You’re not homicide are you?”
Weber hesitated and she rolled her eyes. “Just great. Homicide’s at my abandoned shithole estate with a sweaty guy and a cadaver dog looking for a ‘missing person,’” she said, using air quotes.
“Technically, Burt and I are mostly civilians,” Nick put in. “I’m a private investigator.”
“And you think your missing person is dead in this house?”
“We can’t really say,” Weber hedged.
Haley tipped her head back and let out a strangled groan. “If you find a dead body in this house, I am screwed. No one wanted to buy this dump when someone hadn’t died in it. What am I gonna do with a corpse?”
“The police usually remove the body for you,” Nick offered.
